Page 21 of The Billionaire's Angel

I felt a little calmer after talking myself down, but that didn't mean I didn't follow Gage closely out of the kitchen. He guided my hand to his belt loop, silently threading two fingers through the strip of canvas. I shuffled down the hall behind him, pausing as we reached the doors to the diningroom.

Gage stopped, scanning the moonlit room. A moment later he nodded to himself, and we moved on, through the entry hall, stopping again at the doors to the living room. Gage did another quick scan before we movedon.

The library and Aiden's office were at the end of the hallway, facing one another, the wine room in between. Gage pressed me to the wall outside the library, crowding me with his big body. Shielding me, Irealized.

“It was here,” he said, “the library or the office. I need to check themout.”

“I can help,” I said, inanely. I wanted to help, but honestly, what did I think I was going to do? I was a nurse. Unless there was someone standing in the middle of the room holding a sign that saidI'm the intruder, I wasn't going to be muchuse.

Gage must've agreed because he said, “No. I don't have time to take you to your room and clearit.”

Making a decision, he led me to the wine room in the back of the short hall between the library and Aiden's office. Gage swung the door open, tucked me behind his big frame, and quickly determined the room was empty. Flipping on the light, he led me in, saying, “Lock it behind me. Don't open the door until I comeback.”

“Be careful,” Isaid.

Gage gave a short nod and pulled the door closed. I flipped the bolt and settled in towait.

Chapter Eight

Sophie

The wine roomwas less a room and more an oversized walk-in closet. The proportions were cozy, the design intimate. Racks of wine bottles lined the sides and back walls from floor-to-ceiling, the bottles secured behind glass, a discrete digital display showing thetemperature.

In the center of the small room was an island with a small sink, dishwasher, racks of wineglasses, and drawers that probably contained all sorts of wine-related tools I wasn't familiar with. I wasn't a big wine drinker. I wasn't a big drinker at all. My husband had loved wine and had expected me to enjoy it with him. Reason enough to avoid the stuffnow.

With the door securely shut, I couldn't hear a thing from outside the wine room. The more I turned it over in my head, the less I was sure we heard anything. Maybe it was my own guiltyconscience.

Gage had kissed me. And worse, I’d kissed himback.

I needed to get my head together. I was not going to mess up my life like this. The last thing I needed was a man. My brain thoroughly agreed, but my body—still humming from the feel of Gage between my legs, his mouth on mine, his calloused fingers exploring me—my bodydisagreed.

I'd never felt anything like that before. Never. I'd kissed a few boys in high school, hadn't dated much in college or nursing school. I'd been too busy, too worried about losing my scholarship and trying to finish as quickly as I could to bother with something as trivial as a sociallife.

Then I'd met my husband on my first job, and that had been the end. Anthony had been my first lover, and never once had he inspired the reaction Gage did. Not even close. I’d thought kisses like Gage's belonged in themovies.

A quick knock sounded on the door to the wine room, followed by, “It'sGage.”

I unlocked the door and opened it. “Did you findanything?”

Gage shook his head. “No one's there. Everything's fine. I'll walk you to yourroom.”

I tried not to wonder if Gage was going to kiss me again. I doubted it. As we crossed from the back corner of the house, where the library was, to my bedroom in the front, Gage kept his arm securely around my waist. His eyes scanned the space around us with eachstep.

When we reached my door, Gage followed me in. For a second my heart leaped in hope before I ruthlessly reminded myself there was nothing to hope for. If Gage thought he was here to pick up where we left off in the kitchen, he wasmistaken.

We shouldn’t have kissed, and it wasn't going any further than that. When he led me to the bed and pushed me down to sit, my mind and my body went to war, my brain insisting that I set him straight and my body ready to lay back and let him do anything hewanted.

I cursed myself for a fool. Gage left me sitting on the side of the bed and methodically searched my room. Here I was, trying to talk myself out of sleeping with him when Gage was only here to make sure I wassafe.

He was quick but thorough—checking my closet, my bathroom, behind the curtains at the window seat, even beneath mybed.

“Lock your door,” he said abruptly when he wasfinished.

“You sure everything's okay?” I asked from my seat on the edge of thebed.

In answer, he said, “I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Sophie. Lock yourdoor.”

Then he wasgone.