Darlene made a face and started tapping.
Cassidy returned her attention to Roman, who was now less confident than he had seconds ago. “I’m sorry, you were talking about food so expensive I only get to experience it onHell’s Kitchen?”
Roman smiled.
Cassidy’s phone pinged. She shot Darlene a glare as she reached for it. She read,Nice move to get my number.
Her cheeks colored as her eyes narrowed; that hadn’t been her goal. At least, she didn’t think that had been her motivation.
Code, sweetheart.
Trying not to be turned on by his command, she glanced up at Roman, but he exchanged an impassible expression with Darlene. She replied,Caseli123.
“Sorry about that.” She, however, was perversely titillated by less than ten words.
Another ping came back. With an aggravated huff, she read it:We’re having a conversation about cybersecurity.Rolling her eyes, she turned the phone to silent. “Asshole.”
Startled by her outburst, she looked at Roman. “Sorry.”
However, when she said it, they both recognized she wasn’t talking about the interruption.
The interior lights in her house were on when she drove up. She had a moment of panic before she remembered she’d given Mac her Wi-Fi code, but shehadn’tpermitted him to make himself at home. Apparently, it was an assumption. After all, he couldn’t exactly sit on the porch and work.
She ran inside sans umbrella and looked around the front room’s open space; he wasn’t there. He’d made himself comfortable in the study. Hopefully, he hadn’t made himself comfortable in the bedroom. Maybe alittlehopefully…
Nope, she was stronger than that. Wiping at the moisture clinging to her arms, she turned toward the darkened hall and screamed.
Mac leaned against the wall in the shadows at the far end, arms folded over his chest.
“Fuck me, Mac, you scared the life out of me!”
“Happy to fuck you, Day, always like the look of wet on you.”
How could she want to beat him to death and fall to the ground in a puddle of need at his feet simultaneously? Casting a glare into the shadows cloaking his expression, she purposefully ignored his comment despite her body’s excited response; a response assuring him a warm and slick welcome—traitorous, evil libido.
“Don’t you have work to do?” she asked, irritated by the bite in the question, a clear indication of her inner turmoil. Ugh.
Amused, smoldering silence met her from the darkened end of the hallway. She could picture the knowing smirk on his face; could feel her temperature rise, imagining his dark eyes roaming over her, thinking work could wait.
Deciding for them both, she headed toward the kitchen. “Tea?”
His taunting chuckle followed her. “Sure.”
But he didn’t follow her. She assumed, after several seconds, he returned to whatever it was he’d been doing, other than lurking in her hallway. He was going to make her come to him. And at that moment, she realized something stunning her stupid—Fred hadn’t come to greet her.
Jesus, the dog was becoming more his than hers.
Fred had been more Elijah’s, and when Elijah was working, Fred rarely bothered with her comings and goings. He was alert, of course—he was trained—but if Elijah was relaxed, Fred was relaxed. And so it seemed, Fred was falling into the same pattern with Mac.
They were sharing a dog.
Two teacups prepared with Earl Gray, Cassidy made her way back to the study. She paused in momentary confusion when the desk was vacant. In a sweeping glance over the room, she stared down at Mac. He was sitting on the floor with his laptop in his lap, dark-rimmed glasses on, Fred lounging happily beside him.
She experienced a hot flash, seeing him in those glasses. They defined his jaw structure even more and accentuated his black lashes around his dark eyes… it was a lot to take in. Clearing her throat, she asked, “Why aren’t you using the desk?”
Mac glanced toward it, then back at her. “Didn’t want to disturb anything.”
Too late, she thought to herself. She was already disturbed. She wondered if he could sense the crackle snapping in the air or if he was choosing to ignore it. Cassidy walked to the desk and set down one of the cups. “Elijah’s not coming back to stake a claim to it.”