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“Yeah, they’re almost here. I have to let them in.” She motioned to the door over her shoulder.
“I should go. I don’t want you to get into trouble.”
“Oh.”
The disappointment was evident on her face and most of him was happy to see it.
“I’ll let myself out the front, so they won’t even know I was here.” He took a breath and held her eyes. Did he want to stay? Yes. Absolutely.
But he was too tired, and he didn’t want to be a distraction.
And with the way she was looking at him, she was already pretty distracted.
But this was too important to her. He knew it better than anyone. No way was he going to interfere with the thing she’d been working toward most of her life.
Before he knew what he was doing, he cupped the side of her face with a hand and brushed his thumb along her cheekbone.
Her soft inhale shook his convictions and he nearly changed his mind.
“Will you be safe here this late?” he asked.
She nodded, her dilated pupils skimming over his face. “She has security that will make sure I get home when we’re finished.”
He nodded.
“I’m so proud of you, Nik,” he whispered. “You’re going to be amazing.”
She licked her lips and leaned toward him. The same way she had outside the museum after the benefit.
But this time it was harder for him not to give in.
He brushed a thumb over her cheek again and then pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. He lingered for a beat before stepping away.
His hand slid free, and he immediately missed the warmth of her skin.
But he needed to go. She had work to do and he wasn’t rushing this.
Not this time.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
TOO MUCH TOO FAST
NIKKI
The next few days flew by. Every night she waited until after dark before she snuck Zara and her bodyguards into the studio where they played with all the bits and pieces of music they’d been working on since December.
Zara and Nikki played that is. Her bodyguards just sat there and sometimes they checked the studio for criminals. At least that’s what Nikki assumed they were doing.
Zara left Chicago early Monday morning and Nikki slipped quietly into her house for a shower before going back to work.
She froze in the entry when she spotted Asa standing in the hallway. He was facing her, one hand in his jeans pocket, the other holding a cup of coffee. His hair stuck up on one side from how he’d slept and his open flannel was so wrinkled she was positive he’d slept in that too.
But her favorite part of his ensemble had to be the bedazzled Crocs he wore as house shoes. Al had made them for him as a joke and he wore them religiously.
“Where have you been, young lady?” he asked, expression flat.
She smirked. “Hey, Dad,” she teased. “Am I past curfew?”
