Everywhere She Goes - Page 47

“I’ll walk through,” he said.

She bit her lip and nodded.

The tour didn’t take long. Nothing had been smashed or slashed. Upstairs the smaller room now had a desk with a printer, presumably for her laptop, a pair of tall bookcases and a pile of unpacked boxes. Two cherrywood dressers had been added to the bedroom along with a free-standing full-length mirror. He even glanced in the bathroom, although he was sorry right away. He felt about a woman’s clutter the way a man from another century might have about the sight of a woman letting down her hair. It was too personal.

Sexual.

He backed out quickly and returned downstairs to find she had waited barely inside the door. She was once again wringing her hands together. She took in his face and then looked away. She hadn’t wanted to meet his eyes since that kiss, Noah belatedly realized.

He had blown it.

“All clear,” he reported. “I even glanced outside in back. Not so much as a note.”

“Oh, okay. Time for that shower, then.” She pinned on a smile. “Thank you. I mean it.”

He nodded. “I’ll stay at least until you’re out of the shower.” Kill him though it might, hearing the water run and knowing she was standing under it naked. Tipping her head back, maybe, eyes closed, letting that water stream over her breasts and belly and down her thighs.

He could see that he’d alarmed her. Because of the offer, or because he’d given away thoughts that were dangerously carnal?

“Oh, you don’t need—”

“I do,” he said grimly. “With the shower running, you wouldn’t hear someone kicking in your door.”

Her face got pinched. Finally she gave a small nod. “All right. Thank you. If you want to grab a beer or anything—”

“Go.” That probably sounded grim, too. He wanted to grab her again, go sit on the sofa with her on his lap and just hold her.

Or maybe more.

Cait nodded again, backing away until she bumped into the wall beside the stairs. Then she fled, leaving those sexy high heels sitting on a dainty table to the right of the front door.

Noah waited until he heard her bedroom door shut. Then he groaned, turned and flattened his hands on the wall.

He did not understand why he was giving in to this inexplicable need to take care of Cait McAllister. Who had family. Who didn’t need him, even though sometimes she looked at him as if she did.

Time to back off, he told himself. Before it was too late.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“A REFILL?” Like a polite waitress, Nell lifted the coffee carafe.

“Thank you, no.” Even the toasted bagel Cait had eaten for breakfast wasn’t sitting well in her stomach. This freezing civility with her sister-in-law was all she needed. Cait would have been mad, except she was to blame. Of course.

What choice had she had but to move back in with Colin?

The plan was for her to move temporarily into the apartment above his garage, but last night she’d slept in the guest room again.

He appeared now through the kitchen, still adjusting the knot of his tie. Nell’s face softened when she saw him, and his smile for her was tender and something more that filled Cait with…oh, not envy, she wanted him to be happy, but a sense of her own loneliness, she supposed.

He kissed his wife, then glanced at Cait, expression guarded as it always was these days. “You about ready to go?”

Her poor car, fenders barely smoothed out, now needed three windows replaced. “I’m sorry you’re stuck driving me,” she said.

Her brother’s jaw squared. “I don’t mind.”

Of course. She forced a smile. “Give me a second. Nell, thanks for breakfast.”

“You’re welcome.”

She heard low voices while she hurried to the guest room to slip on her jacket and shoes. She had that shame-filled feeling they were talking about her, but she knew how self-centered that was.

She tried to hurry but was moving stiffly this morning. Her knees sported big purple bruises and her legs didn’t want to swing with their usual ease. Her palms were scraped, and she had ruined her fingernails scrabbling in the dirt. She’d chosen trousers rather than a skirt, but there wasn’t much she could do to hide her hands beyond discreetly tucking them out of sight as much as possible.

Tags: Janice Kay Johnson Billionaire Romance
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