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“I see.” Eldon ran a finger down the crease of the letter. “I shall see what I can do.”
“Thank you,” Hunter said quietly. “Do this for me and I’ll see that you’re well compensated.”
“You always do,” Eldon said, and turned to leave. He paused and turned around again, his gaze searching Hunter’s face. “You seem troubled, Mr. Buchanan. Would you like to . . . talk?” The question fell flat at the end.
Hunter’s mouth twisted into the grimace that passed for his smile. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem fine, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
“I’m not, actually.” He gestured at the letter in Eldon’s hands. “But I will be once you fix that.” He was struck by the sudden overwhelming urge to hold Gretchen in his arms. “I’m heading back to bed, Eldon. Get some sleep.”
“Of course,” Eldon said drily.
The two men parted, and Hunter slipped back into his dark bedroom, then moved into the bed next to Gretchen. She gave a small sigh and shifted in the bed, automatically moving a bit closer to him. His arms went around her and he pulled her tight against his chest, but he was unable to sleep.
Gretchen . . . leaving soon? Leaving him? Even though he’d declared love for her and they made passionate love every chance they had? Even though they enjoyed the endless hours spent together, and she made every day worth living, every hour of work sweeter because he knew she was waiting for him?
Not if he could stop it. She would be at his side for as long as he could make it happen. He didn’t care how or why.
He just knew he needed her.
Chapter 10
Gretchen crawled over Hunter, yawning, and tugged a T-shirt over her body. She searched his room for her panties, which were flung off hours ago. They hung on a lampshade, making her chuckle as she snatched them and put them back on again.
He reached for her, his eyes closed. “Come back to bed. It’s too early.”
“Can’t,” she said, moving to his side of the bed and pressing a kiss to his forehead. He reached for her and she danced out of his grasp, laughing. “Nice try, but I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
He reached for her again. “Come back.”
She wiggled away. “Nope. Can’t. You sleep, though. You were up too late last night working.” She’d had to come into his office to drag him to bed. Of course, he’d been reluctant until she’d started to strip. Then he couldn’t go to bed fast enough, she thought with a grin.
“I’ll get up in a minute,” he mumbled sleepily, then rolled over and went back to bed.
She watched him for a moment, resisting the urge to reach down and smooth his tousled hair. It was a mushy, silly moment, but she didn’t care. Watching him sleep filled her with an odd, easy sort of pleasure. When his breath evened out, she turned and left the room.
Breakfast could wait. She wasn’t all that hungry, and she’d dreamed about deadlines. Dreaming about work always left her in an anxious mood, and today was no different. She had to finish at least one project that was on her plate—if not the letters, then that last chapter of Astronaut Bill and Uranea that she kept promising to her publisher.
But the thought of writing more Astronaut Bill filled her with the usual loathing. She’d concentrate on finishing her cataloging of the letters, then. A week or two after she was already this late wouldn’t make much of a difference. Plus, she was a fancy bestseller now. Her mouth twisted into a sour smile at the thought. Yippee.
She padded across the manor on bare feet. The house was silent and dark, the sun not quite up yet. Hopefully that meant Eldon wasn’t up yet, either. A few minutes later, she opened the door to her library.
Igor stretched and meowed at her from the couch.
“Oh, no. Did I leave you in here all night?” She moved to pet his velvety head, making kissy noises at him. “I’ve been neglecting you shamefully, haven’t I? I can’t help it. I’ve got a new man in my life and he doesn’t even need kitty litter.”
The cat gave her a disgruntled look and then meowed again, flicking his tail at her and walking away.
Gretchen chuckled to herself, then headed to her desk.
And stopped, her heart dropping.
The vase of water that she normally kept her daily rose in was tipped over, the contents spilled all over the antique wood of the secretary . . . and her laptop.
“No, no, no!” She rushed forward, yanking her laptop out of the puddle. The case in her hands dripped, and when she turned it on one side to shake out the keyboard, droplets of water went everywhere. Frantic, she pushed the power button and held her breath, waiting.
Nothing.
