He squirmed on the chair, impatient for the conference to begin. He stared at the log walls of the cabin, thinking. Maybe he’d see if she wanted to spend some time with him before the conference. Get away from the pressures of work so she could focus on her presentations.
Zoe had always been very meticulous about her homework and studying. He knew she’d be just as meticulous in her preparations for her workshop and speech next week.
Dreaming of being with Zoe in less than a week, Ethan walked into the kitchen and pulled out the stew he’d made the night before. Poured it into a deep pot and began heating it. He’d make another batch next week. Zoe would love his stew. And he’d love having someone to share his meal.
* * *
When they reached Zoe’s building, Spence parked in her guest spot and got out of the car. Zoe didn’t try to get out -- Spence would open her door when he was sure no one was lurking.
A minute later, Spence opened the back door of the car and hoisted both of the Kevlar vests onto one shoulder, then grabbed his briefcase. When he opened Zoe’s door, he said gruffly, “I’d take your briefcase, but I need a hand free in case I need to go for my gun.”
“I know,” she said, staring at the vests over his shoulder. They looked damn heavy. “Not a problem.”
They rode the elevator to the lobby. Don was talking to another resident, so she waved her key at him and hurried over to the elevator. Opened the door and waited for Spence to step in. Then she followed. She pushed the button for her floor and leaned against the wall. Bad move.
She should have stood at the back of the car, where she could have kept her gaze on the bronze elevator doors. Instead, she had to stare into the mirror across from her, the same one that had riveted her last night as she watched Spence go down on her.
She looked at the floor. Then the ceiling. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the elevator slowed, then stopped. As the doors slid open, Spence stepped out and held up his hand to her. Her reminder to stay near the elevator.
She settled into the space between the doors.
They had a system now. She knew without hearing Spence say it to stay near the elevator, holding it open as he checked all the rooms. She listened to Spence’s feet move over the tiled kitchen floor. She heard the back door lock click open and felt the air slide against her skin when he opened the door. Heard the beep as he locked it again.
Finally he reappeared. “Everything’s good back there. No evidence of anyone messing with the lock.” He nodded toward the elevator. “Stay there while I search the rest of the apartment. If I tell you to go, take the elevator to the first floor and call the police.”
She nodded. She knew the drill.
She concentrated on listening to him methodically checking the rest of the rooms. Finally he appeared in the living room. “All clear.”
“Thank you,” she said, heading for her bedroom. “I’m going to change my clothes.”
“Hold on,” he said. “Before you do that, let me check the fit of these vests and figure out which one will work best for you.”
“Okay,” she said. She took a deep breath. Spence would have to put his hands on her. To slide the vest on and fasten it. Adjust the fit. Assess which one she should use.
She drew a shaky breath and turned around to face him. Raised her chin. “Have at it.”
She was wearing a tailored jacket over a silk blouse, and a pair of Rag and Bone pants. Simple but elegant. The kinds of things she wore to work if she wasn’t planning on meeting with anyone.
On those days, she wore a suit. Boots or expensive shoes.
Spence had his back to her as he studied both the vests. He hefted them, one at a time, then set them back on the couch. Finally he looked over at her. “You going to wear something like that to the conference?”
“I have three different outfits I’m wearing,” she said. “All of them are business suits.”
He frowned. “Fitted jackets?”
She nodded. “All of them.”
He jerked his chin at the jacket she was wearing. “They all fit like that one does?”
She looked down at her jacket. It wasn’t bespoke, but she’d had it tailored so it fit her well. Finally she met Spence’s gaze. “Pretty much.”
A muscle in Spence’s jaw twitched. “Which means there’s not a lot of room beneath your jackets for a vest.”
She drew a deep breath and glanced at the vests lying on the couch. Although they were thinner than the vests she’d imagined she’d wear, the way her jackets fit would make them very tight. “Probably not,” she admitted. “But I have some older jackets that aren’t quite this fitted. Let me grab a couple of them.”
She hurried into her bedroom before Spence could say anything. When she’d first started Melbourne Solutions, she hadn’t had a big clothing budget. She’d tried to dress professionally but couldn’t afford to have anything tailored for her.