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The image of him so young, chasing after a girl, is amusing. A grin tips my lips. “And now, you’ve been married how long?”

He sighs. “Almost forty years. Damn good years. Even the hard ones.”

He’s not usually so reminiscent when we’re together. While he isn’t all business, he generally kicks into mentoring mode.

“I’ve never met anyone more deserving of a good life, Tom.” It’s true. He’s the best man I know. Even in his shadier dealings, he conducts himself with a veneer of integrity. It’s a wonder we’ve built such a close, personal relationship when he knows my methods of business are far less honorable than his.

“You and I aren’t so different, Gavin.” He chuckles as if he knows my thoughts. “Different paths, but both take a shit ton of tenacity and dedication. Both of us do whatever it takes to save the lives of those in our care, using any means necessary. It can be humbling to imagine bringinganyone into that. Sometimes, it isn’t up to us though—the way someone gets under our skin, pumps through our veins.”

He stares pointedly at me. “I’ve seen the expression pass over you—the look I had on my face for fifteen months—when you speak about my daughter.” He raises a firm palm, halting my objections. “I’m not suggesting anything happen now. She’s got her work cut out for her and preparing her and protecting her must always be the priority. I don’t question that keeping her safe would be your priority though. You’ve become like a son to me over these years, earned my respect and my trust. So, if something should take shape, you have my blessing.”

The men I live and work with don’t seem to notice, but the doctor misses nothing, well aware of the infatuation I have for the Little Storm. He’s lost his goddamn mind if he thinks his daughter, who has been raised with ethics and morals and strength, would ever willingly give herself to the person hired to hunt her down and turn her over for profit though. The truth of that thought slices through me.

I pluck a cigarette from my pocket, lighting it with a deep drag and blowing out the smoke to settle my nerves. “That means a lot to me, Tom, because you have my utmost respect. Having yours is an unfathomable honor. And Ivanna has been a joy to watch and protect, but she—”

“You need to quit smoking. Not just because it’s a terrible habit, doing unspeakable things to your body, nervous system included, but Ivanna detests the smell. She wouldn’t look twice at someone who smoked.”

Something about that advice, breaking down the obstacles between us into simple hurdles, feels like a road map. What if every barrier to her is merely a fire I need to extinguish, one by one? I’ve nevernotgone after what I want. And he isn’t wrong; I want his daughter. More than I’ve ever wanted anything. Fantasies about the redheaded vixen have kept me from touching any other woman for more than a year. No one compares. And Ivanna Kingston grows more tempting by the day. She deserves better, but if she’s going to be in my world, she needs to be mine.

I drop the cigarette to the ground without a word, crushing it with the toe of my shoe.

Tom sips his scotch with a chuckle. “You’re a good man, Gavin.”

I stroke my forehead, rubbing the memory away with a sickening pang.Fuck.She’s gotmyemotions all over the place.

“Pee,” I tell her, “so you don’t get a UTI. I’ll change the bedding and make you some food.”

“Did you just order me to pee?”

I kiss her temple. “Yes. Don’t fight me when I’m taking care of you. I’ll be back in a few.”

She rolls her lips, a coquettish smile tipping the corners. “Okay.”

I shut her in there, switch out the comforter, throw on my joggers, and head to the kitchen, pulling out some berries, eggs, milk, butter, and bread. Before the eggs are scrambled and the toast is browned, Ivy is standing beside me, wearing nothing but one of my button-ups.

“Ivanna, I told you I’d be back. I don’t want you out here, wearing that. I want you naked in my bed.”

A smile explodes across her gorgeous, clean face as she braces her hip against the counter. “No one is out here, except us, they’ve seen me in less, and it’ll be fun to rip off. Plus, I have questions.”

Squashing the vexing memory of them all gawking at her in the tiny blue bikini, I bite. “Questions?”

“Favorite food? Color? Side of the bed?”

I stir while grabbing a knife for the butter. “Lasagna. Whatever shade of blue your eyes are at any given moment. And nearest to the door.”

An under-her-breath giggle falls before she asks, “Any side that’s near the door? Why?”

“For protection.”

She nods, biting away a smile. “Making eggs?”

“For you.” I open the fridge, snatch a blue Gatorade, and hand it to her. “Drink that.”

Her nose scrunches, lips twitching. “You’re making me eggs at midnight and forcing a sports drink down my throat because we had sex?” She looks around on the last word, as if her in my shirt isn’t broadcasting that loud and clear.

I pull the toast out, buttering each slice. “You’ve been training strenuously as well. You need protein, vitamins, and hydration.”

She laughs, stretches on her tiptoes, and pecks my cheek. “Thank you.”

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