Page 7 of Sinner’s Game

I can’t seem to stop staring.

Stop. Staring.

I shake myself, my self-issued order ringing in my head as my cheeks go hot. “Sorry. What? Oh, yes. I’m fine. I was just thinking.”

“Thinking?” His brows rise as the corner of his mouth twitches, and darn it, I actually swoon a bit. There’s just something about this man. Not his looks—although they definitely don’t hurt. He’s tall and broad-shouldered with a chiseled face that’s not too perfect, and all the better for his rough edges.

Ellie once described him as a Nordic god, and that sounds about right to me. Either that or an action hero.

Then again, considering his day job as an independent security consultant and his secret vocation as one of Saint’s Angels, he truly is the latter. Just in real life and not on a movie screen.

Bottom line is that although Ronan is very, very easy on the eyes, what I find most attractive is that underneath all that dangerous muscle is a guy with a genuinely good heart and a very sweet demeanor. The guy who so gently carried me out of that horrible underground chamber, then tended my wounds and promised that everything would be okay. The man who whispered that I was beautiful at Ellie and Devlin’s wedding, and that all he could think about was kissing me.

The guy who makes my heart flutter and my fingers ache to touch him even though I know I shouldn’t.

The guy who right now is silently grinning at me, as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking. And, yeah, he probably does.

I clear my throat. “Yeah. Just thinking. About work.” I expect him to call me on it. Want him to, even. Because despite the very long lectures I keep giving myself, deep down I still want to kindle this attraction. And I’m certain he wants the same.

Which is why I’m ridiculously disappointed when all he says is, “I guess that means work’s going well. Congratulations. I saw the new display in the window at The Escape earlier today.”

“Thanks.” I swallow as I readjust my fantasies, reminding myself that this is good. I don’t actually want anything to happen between me and Ronan. Didn’t I just give myself that lecture? Am I really that wishy-washy?

Apparently, yes, I am.

I force myself to smile at him. “You’re early.”

“A little. I have a plane to catch soon.”

“Oh. So you’re going to fix my sink and run? I was thinking about making cookies.”

“I’d love that. Raincheck?”

I force myself not to be disappointed. “Sure. And thanks for grabbing Jake. I didn’t realize I’d dropped the leash.”

“Well, you were deep in thought. About work,” he adds. What I hear is about me.

I manage a little shrug. “Lots on my mind. Oh! I saw Mr. Big,” I say, referring to my mysterious landlord.

“Yeah?” he asks as we fall in step together, heading the short distance to the house. “How did you know it was him? I thought you’d never met the man.”

He’s right. I have a unique deal in that in exchange for ridiculously cheap rent, I act as a house manager. The only downside is that on the few occasions he comes to town and wants the house, I get a call from the property manager and have to vacate for up to a week.

It’s all very mysterious and weird, but I assume he’s some sort of celebrity and really wants his privacy. Considering the fab house, minuscule rent, great view, and South Orange County location, it’s a small price to pay.

“I was outside Pacific Property earlier, and some guy came out. I didn’t think anything of it until he started staring at me, then asked what I was doing there. He was almost yelling. It was freaky.”

I reach for Jake’s leash, and when he passes it to me, our hands brush. And right then I wish I’d paid more attention when my dad did repairs around the house. Because then I could fix my own stupid sink and not have to spend the next hour or so feeling like an awkward thirteen-year-old girl, tongue-tied around the cute guy.

I realize he’s no longer beside me, and I pause, then turn around to find his eyes on me, a curious expression on his face. My cheeks go warm even as my whole body gets all shivery. This is it. This is when he finally says something about that kiss. That strange and wonderful kiss that has occupied too much of my brain space lately.

“Ronan?” I ask when he continues to just stand there.

“Where did you go?”

I blink, totally confused. “Go? We’re going to the house.”

He chuckles, the sound low and sexy, and I hate myself because I cannot shut this attraction off. “I meant in your head. You wandered off somewhere, but you were telling me about Mr. Big.”