Page 42 of Stay Close

His hand catches mine. “What was that?” he reads. My stomach dips, and I lob my phone across the room. It hits the sofa with a plop.

“Nothing. How are you doing? Feverish?” I put a hand to his forehead. “Need water?”

“Hot Bodyguard?” he grins. “How long—”

My cheeks burn, and I bite my lip on a smile. “I—I didn’t know about your dedication to your profession, at that time. The years of training and commitment. I reduced you to a—”

He reaches for his phone, navigates several screens, and holds it up to show me my contact information.Legs.He chuckles, winces, and holds a hand to his ribs. “I knew I wouldn’t forget it.” He touches my cheek with the back of his hand, and I lean into it. “You’re writing up the report back home? What about Sondmark?” he asks. “They never got to present their final case.”

“It was a formality,” I say, “like spiking the football. The touchdown already happened.” For that, I get another kiss. I have no interest in football, but I have a lot of interest in Lucas kissing me. I’ll be an expert on the history, player positions, and applicable sports metaphors by the end of the month. “Caroline let me know they’re willing to forgo the exercise as a gesture of goodwill. They want to look magnanimous after my boyfriend got beat up.”

Lucas grins. “That’s only fair. They poisoned my girlfriend.” Another kiss. “What are you going to recommend?” he asks. “Who gets Sove?”

“Nobody.”

He groans as he scotches me into his arms. “Is this a new geographical designation? Unclaimed lands? Unincorporated North Sea? Is it like living in the country where you have to have a septic tank and a windmill and a shotgun because the cops won’t come?”

I tip my head to allow him better access to my neck. “Did you know,” I say, “that despite their differences, the disputed territory has been an economic boon to Sondmark and Vorburg?” It’s difficult to keep my mind on the topic when his lips brush my skin. “I read the reports. These are some of the richest fishing grounds in the North Sea because neither country can fully exploit the natural resources. Fishing vessels tend to steer clear of the island for fear of running into vessels from the opposing country and starting a fight. The upshot is that the vulnerable kelp forests are practically undisturbed.”

“Kelp forests?” he echoes, a warm breath skating over my neck. “So you’ll leave them to trade out bottles of alcohol and get into expensive nautical skirmishes?”

“I’ll be suggesting that they split the baby. Half of Sove goes to Sondmark, the other half to Vorburg. Since their competing interests have turned that part of the North Sea into a fertile area, I’m also going to recommend that they’ll each take rotating stewardship.” It has never been more difficult to deliver a piece of information. “One year on, one year off. They fight so well that the upshot will be better fishing and better sea life for everyone.”

I gave up on a perfect solution ages ago, but this will work if they decide to make it work. Unlike the case of Seongan bells, the issue of Sove isn’t black or white. Vorburg and Sondmark will have to navigate the gray areas. It won’t kill them.

I release a slow breath and settle into Lucas’s arms, imagining a future that requires compromise. I’ll have to make peace with his job—coming to terms with the risks of international bodyguarding. We’ll make the most of the times when he works closer to home. I’m going to need a lot of him. As much as he can spare.

I’ll throttle back on working a million hours a week, desperate to prove to my bosses and peers that I’m worth the next promotion and the next. My personal life won’t be an afterthought, squeezed into two hours on a Saturday night.

Lucas rubs a thumb over the curve of my shoulder. It’s going to be worth it.

I look up, watching his face, tracing the lashes resting against his cheeks. Sondmark diplomats tied themselves in knots hoping I wouldn’t blame them for the lemon pie and the harbor attack and the poisoning. They didn’t need to worry. I met Lucas here.

His eyes open, and his gaze drifts over my brow, down my cheek and settles on my mouth.

“Stop trying to kiss me,” I say, tucking the covers in. “You’re still hurt. You need rest.”

“Edie,” he murmurs, breath stirring my hair. He pulls me up until we’re face to face. A smile lights his eyes. “My lips work just fine.”