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“Doesn’t make a difference to me.”
“Sure it doesn’t. I’m sure you want me crowding up your ranch house with my Hannah-ness.” I gesture toward myself and turn around. My heart flips at the sight of him pouring wine into two glasses.
“This is the safest place for you to be.”
Right. Bodyguard. Of course. “Where were you this morning?” I ask. “If you’re supposed to be watching my back at all hours of the night and day on Cash’s command, then how come you weren’t at my apartment?”
“I had to set up a couple of important things for your safety. I had a friend watching over you while I was busy.”
“What does that mean?”
Savage comes over with the wine and gives it to me. Our fingers brush as I take the glass, and I moan.
I actually… moan.
Is this real life?
Savage’s eyes widen.
I pretend to cough. “Sorry, something caught in my throat.” It’s my shame. “Thanks.” I take a sip of wine and almost choke on it, then smile at him. “Yum. White wine.”
“You don’t like white? I don’t have anything else.”
“It’s great!”
Savage stands there and watches me.
“Are you sure you don’t need my help making dinner?” I ask.
“I should give you a tour.”
“Huh?”
“Of the house.”
“Uh, okay, that’s kind of sudden. Weren’t you in the middle of making?—”
He takes my hand and electricity streaks up my arm and through my body. My nipples pucker at his touch, and it's such an intense reaction to him, I lose my breath. But I am not moaning, and that’s a step up from a few seconds ago, so I’m counting it as a win.
Savage releases my hand then gestures to the leather sofa, the flatscreen TV, and then to the glistening kitchen with its granite tops and dark wood counters. There’s one of those kitchen islands with a rack of copper pots and pans hanging over it. “This is the living room and the kitchen.”
“You don’t say.”
“This way.” He points to the hall.
I walk out ahead of him, my skin prickling at the proximity. I take a sip of my wine for sustenance then grimace. The last time I had too much to drink?—
Nope. Nope. Not going there.
Savage stops in the hall and points to one of the doors. “That’s your bedroom.” He shifts his hand over to the door on the far left. “That’s a room you won’t enter.” Then points to the back door. “And you never leave the ranch house through that door.”
“What?”
He takes a sip of wine. “Tour complete.” And then he goes back to the living room.
“You should never have told me that,” I call out. “About the rooms and doors, I’m not supposed to use. That’s going to make me want to go through them even more.”
“Do you always say everything that pops into your head?” Savage asks.
