Page 42 of Herding Cat

Beyond that, she was thrilled and relieved that the cloud over her head had been blown away. She hadn’t realized just how tense she’d been, waiting for the axe to fall. Granted, it would have been best to have taken one of Steven’s hooligans into custody, so they could testify that her brother-in-law had put out a contract on her in an attempt to take over the company, but despite the pretty fictions her guardians had fed her, she was pretty sure neither of her assailants would be talking. Like ever.

How strange that for them, something like that was as normal as a visit to the office watercooler.

She didn’t think she could ever get used to it. But to be honest, those men had been determined to kill her. For money. They deserved what they got.

“What do you think?”

A deep voice from behind her had her whirling around in surprise, even though she recognized the mellifluous timbre; it sent a shiver down her spine.

She crossed her arms and pretended to glare at him as he stood there by the connecting door. “Don’t you knock?”

He smiled. “Generally not.”

“How rude.” There was no reason to smile. But she did.

“I missed you.”

Ah. There was a reason to smile.

“We’ve been together all morning.”

“Yeah.” He lifted a shoulder. “But there was shooting and stuff.”

“So?”

“So, so I couldn’t do this.” He prowled across the thick carpet and pulled her into his arms and kissed her. It was really, really nice.

She gusted a sigh. “Yeah. I missed you too, I suppose.”

His nostrils flared. “You suppose?”

“Mmm hmm.”

He stepped closer and pressed their bodies together, making his full interest known.

Her lips curled. “I see how much you missed me.” She rubbed against his erection. “Where are the others?”

“Settling into their rooms.” He waggled his brows.

“Did Tate get things settled with the police?”

“Mmm.” His answer was another kiss. And another. He walked her back to the bed and eased her onto it, then lay down beside her, never letting go.

She loved it, but she wanted to be the one kissing him, so she pushed on his chest in an attempt to make him roll over. He winced and groaned. She jerked back and stared at him. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” A wheeze.

“I did. I hurt you.”

“I’m...fine.”

Still, she unbuttoned his shirt and lifted up his undershirt and—

“Oh, God.”

His chest was one big purple bruise.

“It’s nothing.”