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She looked down at herself, dressed as she’d been last night, in track shorts and an oversize tee that didn’t disguise the fact she wasn’t wearing a bra. Not that he’d noticed.
Hell, yeah, he’d totally noticed. And was noticing again… and feeling the reaction of noticing.
“Tika!” He reached for the dog, his hand going to her collar. “Let’s greet our guests while Daphne changes.”
I am totally not using your dog as cover for a very inconvenient morning hard-on. Nope, nope, nope.
He led Tika to the door while mentally reciting bond-amortization-method formulas.
“Chris?” Daphne said.
He glanced over. She waved at his lower half, and his cheeks heated, certain she’d noticed—
“You’re, uh, only wearing boxers,” she said.
“And glasses.”
She sputtered a laugh. “Yes, and glasses.”
“Think they’ll object?”
She paused. “‘Object’ is not the word I’d use.”
“Then I’m good to go. Tika and I will distract them while you dress.”
He waited until she’d gone back into the room, and not at all because he was watching her track shorts ride up—
This dog isn’t going to shield you forever, buddy.
Chris turned away from the view and called “Just a moment” to the crew banging on the door. Did his voice drop an octave when he did? Possibly.
He got behind the door, his hand still on Tika’s collar. She’d quieted, and if he wanted, he could take pride in that. Her person was safely in her room, and Tika trusted that together, the two of them could protect Daphne from whatever lay beyond that door.
In truth, Tika probably only cared about the first part. Daphne was safe, and Chris… Well, whatever, dude. You’d make fine cannon fodder.
Chris unlocked the door and yanked it open. Something beeped. A camera? Already? He fixed on his best Zane smile, a little smug, a little Why yes, I am Zane Remington, newly minted #1 New York Times bestselling author. Tika twisted in his grip, and he glanced down to see the dog giving him serious side-eye.
He lifted his gaze to the newly arrived crew and let his smile grow a fraction. “Why hello. Welcome to my humble abode.”
The woman in the orange puffer vest stared for a second. Then her gaze slipped down him and back up.
“Well, hello, Mr. Remington,” she said.
“Please excuse my terribly inappropriate attire,” he said. “I didn’t expect you this morning, and I was up late writing.”
Tika wrenched from his grip, backing away and growling at the very moment an alarm wailed. A car alarm? His gaze shot to the truck outside, only to realize the wail came from the house.
That beeping, you idiot. It was the security system, warning you to disarm it after you opened the door.
Shit! He locked his knees before scrambling back into the house. He was Zane Remington, who would not panic, despite the siren wailing over their heads.
“My apologies!” he shouted to be heard over the alarm. “Let me fix that!”
He backed up, and Tika nearly knocked him over to get inside ahead of him. He thought she was running from the sound. Instead, she blocked his entry, her legs planted.
You are not the guy I let pet me last night. You are that jerk from yesterday, and you are not coming back into my house.
No, it was more like You are not getting near my person again.
