Chapter 11 Tom
TOM
Irealize my mistake as soon as I hear the office door open, my hand going to the towel wrapped around my waist as Kat appears like an angel, backlit by the overhead light.
Fuck.
Her eyes are glassy as she stares at me, her mouth opening and closing, her cheeks darkening as if she were blushing as her gaze sweeps over my bare chest and down to my feet, lingering a second longer on the towel before moving up again.
I need to defuse this situation and fast. Before Kat had left the kitchen, we’d come to some kind of truce.
An understanding.
And I can’t let this night go to professional hell because I was too caught up in going over all the information we have so far. Mentally adding to the list of things we need to follow up on as I moved on autopilot to the bathroom.
But Kat shouldn’t be seeing me like this.
A careless mistake.
I’d only been in there for five minutes.
Tops.
I never understood the need people had to linger under the hot spray. If I wanted to submerge myself in water, I’d find a pool and do laps.
Exert myself.
What the fuck were people doing? Counting the god damn tiles?
I’d been in and out, never considering I’d run into Kat in the hallway, and now here we are, locked in a staring contest with me in a towel.
I fucking know better.
But none of that matters. Not when Kat is looking at me like she wants to lick the drop of water sliding down my chest, her eyes dilated and her lips parted and inviting.
Dammit.
This stops now.
“I thought you’d be in there longer; otherwise I would have brought a change of clothes.”
It’s surprising how much I have to force my voice to remain calm.
Unaffected.
Like her physical response to me standing here isn’t making my blood run hotter in my veins.
“What?” she manages, the word breathy and slightly apologetic like her gaze wasn’t raking over me.
Again.
“I—”
“Yes, sorry,” she rushes out. “It’s been a really long day, and I got some words in—like a brain dump, you know?
Just all of it out on the page. I’m sure most of it is garbage and I’ll have to delete it, but I never delete, delete it.
All the words I cut go into another file for a rainy day.
Do you ever do that? Probably not. You’re very meticulous I can tell so that would probably stress you out.
Do you get stressed?” She laughs, her hands balling into fists. “Mm-hmm, okay, I’m going to bed.”
“Sorry about this, Kat.”
“Nope, totally fine.” Moving around me, she nods, her gaze now anywhere but on me. “This is good. Great even. We got this out of the way.”
“Got…”
“This,”—she motions between us—“the awkwardness. We’ve gotten it out of the way. I mean a girl gets to see her bodyguard almost naked the first night he’s in her house. I’ll probably have to write that into a book or something.”
“Kat…”
“So anyway, goodnight, Tom. Thanks for dinner”—blushing furiously, she squares her shoulders and gives me a flirty smile, like she was finally able to pull herself together enough to make an exit—“and a show.”
And exit, she does.
As she turns on her heel, I let myself watch her sashay the last few feet to her room. So damn perfect.
The door opens and closes without her giving me a backward glance, and it’s a good thing too because how the hell would I explain myself?
Stalking toward the guest room, I make a note to put a fucking bell on her office door so this never happens again. I’m a god damn professional and I don’t lust after clients.
Because that’s what this is.
But it’s not.
The level of restraint required not to slam the door behind me in protest is unreal, my body tense as I drag my hand through my hair.
What was she doing in her office?
Writing would be the obvious answer, but she was flushed when she first appeared in the doorway. Was she writing something hot? Sexy? Was she turned on?
What in the absolute fuck is wrong with me?
Growling, I rip the towel from my body and hang it on the hook on the back of the door before pulling clothes from the bag I’d grabbed from my car after dinner. There’s one in every vehicle I own.
At work.
Safe houses.
Anywhere and everywhere I might need to be at a moment’s notice.
Stepping into my boxers and pants, I work double time to lower my heart rate, wrestling a shirt over my head that Royce gave me for Christmas.
Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I pull up his number and type out a text.
TOM: Send me something
ROYCE: I talked to you like twenty minutes ago
ROYCE: I’m good but I’m not that good
TOM: Anything
ROYCE: What happened?
As much as I love my nephew, I won’t be telling him I seriously considered hurdling over every fucking line and boundary I have in place when it comes to clients. Because that’s what it all comes down to.
I wanted to break my rules.
For her.
I want to fuck the sadness from Kat’s eyes. I want to see her writhing beneath me, all that silky skin flushed and glistening as I take her over and over until she feels like herself again.
Like she can take on the world instead of hiding from it.
TOM: Nothing—just restless. It’s been a long time since I was on this side of things.
It’s not entirely a lie.
The last time I played bodyguard was several years ago. When I first started working for Cullen and Gene Andrews it was more regular, but I worked my way up to managing the entire department and several teams for events, investigations, and whatever else needed to be done.
ROYCE: How about the doorbell footage I acquired from the neighbor adjacent to Kat’s house? It’s too far to positively ID anyone but we need to nail down the timeframe for the envelope.
TOM: Send it.
ROYCE: I feel like I should be worried
TOM: Why?
ROYCE: You never ask to do my job
TOM: Remember that time Kinsley was almost kidnapped?
ROYCE: I try not to
TOM: But do you remember that helpless feeling when you were driving there and going too fast but not fast enough to get to her?
ROYCE: Yes
TOM: That’s how I feel. I need answers. I need to be in the mix and I can’t do that from here.
ROYCE: She needs you there—no one is better than you for this
TOM: Thanks kid. Just send me the footage and we’ll touch base in the morning
ROYCE: You got it
ROYCE: Work me needs you to stop doubting yourself and focus on what you need to do. Get your head in the game
ROYCE: But nephew me needs you to know I believe in you. You’re my hero and the smartest man I know and I love you
Shaking my head, I chuff out a laugh. I needed that.
All of it.
And I’m thankful he knew it too.
TOM: Love you too and I’m proud of you. I promise my head’s on straight. We’ll touch base in the morning.
ROYCE: Good, because I’m about to pull an all-nighter
You and me both, kid.
Because what else is there to do? My run-in with Kat is still too fresh in my mind to sleep, and I won’t be tempted into doing something about it.
At the very least, scrolling through hours of footage will keep me occupied.
Focused.
And tomorrow I’ll be able to pretend tonight never happened.
If only…