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I blush. “Well, thank you, but I feel like the office probably isn’t the place for that.”
“Seriously, though, you’ve got great style. Very retro-housewife-meets-secret-vixen-librarian.”
I’m not sure what that actually means, but in my head, it sounds pretty damn cool for being a woman in my very early 30s. I often wonder if my image and fashion choices make me look older than I am, but I like the throwback style.
“So, how is everything going? Chloe reading?” I grab the stack of mail and sift through the envelopes.
“Everything’s good. She did her homework and had a snack. She was reading but I think she’s probably still talking to that guy upstairs.”
“What?” My head snaps up and I almost drop the mail. “What guy?”
“Alex, the security guy,” she says a little nervously. “Shit, should I not have let him in? He said you knew he was coming and he had a key.”
“Oh, no,” I say, shaking my head, “that’s fine. He’s still here?”
“Yeah, upstairs. He said he was finishing up. The rest of the guys went home. Chloe tried asking them about 50,000 questions, so I tried to steer her back to her room to focus on her book so they could work.”
“Probably a good idea.” I reach into my purse and grab a wad of cash, handing it to Zara. “Thanks as usual. I better go rescue him from her questions.” I laugh, hiding my nervousness at the thought of a man in my home, talking to my daughter.
It’s not that I don’t trust Alex around my daughter . . . it’s that I know how Chloe can be. She’ll get attached at the drop of a hat and think he’s her new friend, then when he’s out of our life in hopefully a few short weeks, she’ll be sad.
I walk up the stairs, listening for the sound of Chloe’s voice probably explaining her current book, but I don’t hear anything. I notice her bedroom light is on, so I push her door open to see her on her belly reading with her headphones on. I step back into the hallway and walk toward my room. Maybe Alex ducked out without Zara noticing since I didn’t see his car parked out front.
I’ll go ask Chloe about her day in a moment, but I need to get out of these heels and take a few deep breaths to calm down after a very long day of interviewing victims. I remove each shoe, tossing them to the side before walking over to the edge of my bed and taking a seat. I close my eyes, resting my hands on the edge of the mattress as I let my head loll forward. I feel guilt that Chloe doesn’t have a father figure in her life . . . not even my own father is around to be involved. And the birthday and Christmas cards her paternal grandparents send are no substitute for actual involvement. Sometimes I’m tempted to ask them why they even bother with the bare minimum. I don’t want to “settle” for just any man in Chloe’s life—her father has put her through enough heartbreak that she’s better off with just a mom than any man who plans to half-ass it.
“Ahem.”
I snap my head up so fast, I feel an instant pain shoot through it. I reach my hand up to touch the side of my neck as I fly off the bed and spin around to see Alex standing in my room. “Sorry, did I startle you again?”
“Seriously?” I gasp, my heart racing. “What the hell are you doing in my room? And what is with you always sneaking around? I thought you’d left.”
“Well, I did warn you that if I were in your room, you wouldn’t know it unless I wanted you to.” He shrugs with a sly grin, but I flash him a look that lets him know I am not amused in the slightest. “I had to run a wire in your closet. That’s where I put the hub for the system. If you want to set up a computer specifically for the cameras, you can, or you can just log in on your phone or this tablet.”
“Is a full computer system necessary? I mean, is this going to be the first step toward a panic room?” I wrap one arm around my waist nervously as the other stays against my neck. I’m very much aware that we are standing in my bedroom—a place I consider to be my safe space.
“No, not necessary. Are you okay?” He nods toward my neck.
“Yeah, just tweaked it in my moment of panic. I’ll be fine.”
“Come here, I want to walk you through things.” He crooks his finger toward me while holding up the tablet in his hands.
A warm shiver runs through me at the way he commands me. I know he didn’t mean anything by it, because that’s probably just the kind of man he is, but damn, my body sure doesn’t realize it.
“Yeah, sure.” I step toward him, looking down at the screen while he taps through it, showing me live feeds of the entire exterior of my house.
I try to stay focused. I try not to notice the slight hint of aftershave—or maybe cologne?—that’s still lingering on his body after several hours. I wouldn’t have pictured him as a cologne guy. I’m suddenly very aware of how close I’m standing to him . . . the warmth radiating off his bicep as it brushes against me, and the dark hair that’s sprinkled over his tan skin.
When was the last time I had sex? Shit! No. Why did that pop into my head?
“You okay?”
“Hmm?” I realize I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head when the intrusive thought popped into it. “Oh, yeah, just this neck,” I lie, hoping he buys it. “Doesn’t help that I’ve been glued to my computer or bent over a file more than usual lately.”
“Here.” He tosses the tablet onto my bed and turns to face me. He grabs my shoulders and spins me so my back is toward him.
“What are you—”
“Just trust me,” he says as he runs his thumb slowly up the side of my neck, pressing deeply into my flesh.
