Where was he? Adie started to walk out of the bedroom to find him but then she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the far wall and let out a tiny shriek. Her hair lay flat against her head on one side and stood up on the other, her face was creased from the pillow and her mascara dotted the tops of her lids and made tiny stripes under her eyes.
She looked like someone who’d been traveling for a couple of days. Oh, wait, she had been...
“God, get in the shower before he sees you,” Adie told her reflection, grimacing.
“Too late,” Hunt drawled from the doorway. “And I think you look amazing.”
Adie whirled around and stared at him, drinking him in. He wore stone-gray chino pants and a white shirt under a crew neck sweater the color of a tangerine. Trendy sneakers covered his feet but it was his expression that captured her attention, part hope, part expectation, a little amusement.
She wanted to launch herself into his arms and was about to do that when she remembered that she needed to shower and brush her teeth. She placed her hand over her mouth and spoke through her fingers. “Hold that thought!”
At the door to his bathroom, she turned to look at him again. “Any chance of a coffee? And something to wear? Because I’ve lost my luggage. And can we talk?”
Hunt smiled at her erratic speech and nodded to the bedside table. “Coffee.” Then he pointed to the dressing room. “Your bags arrived this morning. The airport had them delivered here because you put down my address as your primary residence. All your stuff is in the closet, your toiletries are in the bathroom.”
Adie looked at the closet and then back at him. “You unpacked for me?”
“And I made a hell of a noise doing it.” Hunt smiled. “I can’t tell you how many times I nearly woke you up, but I couldn’t, you were obviously exhausted.”
Adie swayed from foot to foot, torn between wanting to get clean and stepping into his arms. Choosing to get her coffee, she took a huge sip, then another, sighing with pleasure.
Hunt slid his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Take a shower, Adie, and then we’ll talk. But, if you are longer than ten minutes, I’ll join you in there and trust me, no talking will be done.”
It was tempting to linger but, Adie thought as she brushed her teeth, the next time they made love she didn’t want any misunderstandings between them.
Hopefully, she’d be in his arms, in his bed soon because, really, how long did it take to say sorry, I was wrong, I love you and please can I stay?
Hunt heard her footsteps coming down the hallway and turned away from the window in his sitting room. She couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes, but it seemed longer, an age. God, she looked amazing and he couldn’t believe she was here, in his apartment.
He took a moment to study her, pleased she hadn’t taken the time to apply makeup or dry her newly washed hair. She’d pulled on yoga pants and a thigh-length sweater and her feet were bare. Her lack of fussing suggested she was as eager to get things settled as he was.
And he couldn’t wait so he jumped straight in.
“Why did you come back, Adie?”
Adie perched on the edge of the cushion of his leather couch, placing her hands between her knees. Hunt sat down opposite her, his forearms on his knees, his eyes locked on hers.
“I had a nightmare trip back to London, everything went wrong. I got back to my apartment and realized I’d lost my flat keys.”
“I found them next to the bed,” Hunt replied.
“I thought about going to a hotel but quickly realized that wasn’t where I wanted to be.”
Hunt, desperate to pull the words out of her, forced himself to be patient, to wait for her to explain in her own way. They had only one shot at this and he wanted to get it right.
Adie sighed. “My default setting is to run when a guy tells me I’m important. Normally I run only after things are a little more established, after I’ve driven him to distraction and found an excuse to bail. I don’t trust myself when it comes to love, Hunt. And, normally, I find it impossible to trust a man when he says that he loves me. I guess that’s because my parents blithely and frequently told me they loved me, but I knew they didn’t because their actions didn’t match up to their words.”
She saidnormally,hang onto that word.
Hunt linked his hands together, riding the waves of emotion. Anger at her parents, love and tenderness and protectiveness for her.
Adie looked at him as if expecting him to say something, but he just rolled his index finger in the air, silently telling her to continue.
It took a little time for her to speak again. “When I got to London, I realized that it’s not you I don’t trust, it’s me.” She pulled in a deep breath and met his eyes. “I’m hoping you are in love with me. I know that I’m in love with you—I have been since that night I first met you.”
“Thank God,” Hunt muttered.
Adie held up her hand. “I’m so damn scared, Hunt.” She stared down at her intertwined fingers, which were as white as his own. He flexed his fingers and felt blood rushing back to his digits. Standing, he walked around the coffee table that separated them and sat down on its glass top. Adie released an agitated squawk and swatted his knee.