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Dove blinked at Quaide. He blinked back.
She threw up a hand. “Hold on. You let a stranger in!”
Quaide arched one dark brow at her claim.
Rain stopped. “He said he’s FBI.”
Dove couldn’t look away from the man she’d spent countless nights ruining clean hotel sheets with. The man she’d left with no explanation.
“Does he have a warrant?” she asked him to his face.
His stare dipped from her wet hair to her bare shoulders and landed on the tops of her breasts pushing against the white towel that was the only barrier between her and the man she ached to have touch her.
“You’re dripping, Dove.” His warm voice set her on fire. Like always.
She had no response to that and simply gaped at him as he got off the stool, walked to the range and grabbed a kitchen towel draped over the handle. He returned to her side and began pressing the wet ends of her hair between the cloth.
A shudder tore through her. At his closeness. At his touch. Oh god, she wanted him to touch her so bad.
But he shouldn’t be here.
“What are you do-ing?” Her demand had a small waver.
“Drying your hair.”
“Are you using this as an excuse to touch me?”
“Can’t I be doing both?”
Silence fluttered between them. Was he recalling that night they spent in the honeymoon suite and how he’d dried her off after their bubble bath and carried her to bed with her legs wrapped around his waist?
She didn’t dare turn her head. One look at his face would tell her if he was.
“Uhh…” Rain tipped her head to study them. “Am I interrupting something here?”
Jerking back to the present, Dove stepped out of Quaide’s reach. “This is Quaide. We used to work together.”
“Quaide.” Rain’s eyes cut over him. “Isn’t that your boss?”
“Wasmy boss.”
Rain’s eyes widened, which only accentuated the blue more. “Oh my god! You were sleeping with the boss? How many bad decisions have you made, Dove?”
Irritation hit with the reverberation of a gong inside her. “Are you kidding me now? You’ve been living in my closet for six weeks.”
“That doesn’t answer my question about you sleeping with your boss.”
“Rain! Enough! Go to your room.”
She threw her a sweet smile. “I don’t have a room.”
“Go to your closet!”
Her sister only paused long enough to toss them both a huge, dazzling, Barbie-doll grin before flouncing out of the kitchen. Dove waited several seconds to hear the closet door slam before she settled her gaze on Quaide’s.
His chest inflated. God, he looked amazing. Though now that she looked harder, she saw hollows under his eyes too. Small lines etched around each hazel eye and a bit of his usual glow seemed to have extinguished.
Oh hell. He looked as bad as she did.
