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“You can stay here tonight. It’s the opposite of fancy, but it’s clean and safe. Bathroom’s across the hall.” Daveed set her suitcase on the floor then headed for the door again. “You get showered and changed into something clean and dry while I text Heath and tell him to stay the hell away from the condo for the time being.”
2
Daveed stared at his glowing phone screen and rubbed his scratchy eyes. It was the middle of the night—three-twenty according to the flashing digital clock at his bedside—but he was having trouble sleeping. Again. Unfortunately, insomnia had become his regular partner since his days running intelligence in the Middle East with Heath and Murphy. He’d thought it was getting better, but now having Melody as his uninvited house guest didn’t help either.
On his phone screen was Heath’s response to the text Daveed had sent earlier to warn the guy to stay away from the condo until further notice. The message did little to calm the knots of tension still tightening his gut.
Be careful. Melody will make your life crazy.
Believe me, I know.
Well, shit. That was exactly what Daveed didn’t need right now. More insanity in his life. He had enough of that with trying to help the guys find Murph’s missing sister. Or not. His guilt and frustration over not aiding the search efforts more than he had today forced him out of bed. Lying around not sleeping wouldn’t help anyone, so he headed for the bathroom then decided maybe a snack would help him sleep.
But as he padded down the hall toward the kitchen, he noticed Melody’s bedroom door open and a pale shaft of light slicing across the hardwood floor ahead. Great. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one with insomnia trouble.
Rounding the corner from the hallway and into the kitchen, Daveed stopped short. Melody was busy at the stove with her back to him, humming softly as she stirred something in a pan. She’d showered and changed since he’d last seen her and looked more like her old self, or at least the girl he remembered from the two times he’d met her with Heath.
She had on some silly-looking pink cotton stretch pants covered with what appeared to be poodles wearing tiaras and a loose white T-shirt that still managed to cling to her curves in all the right places. Daveed crossed his arms over his bare chest against the sudden rush of unwanted heat that zinged through him at the sight of her. He wished he would’ve grabbed a shirt before coming out here, feeling far more exposed now than he liked. But he hadn’t been expecting to see anyone in the kitchen either. At least he’d worn sweats to bed tonight. Usually he slept in the nude, and wouldn’t that just make for an interesting moment with his guest.
He shook his head as Heath’s words looped through his head again.
Melody will make your life crazy…
Given the awareness prickling through his body now, it seemed that prophecy was already coming to pass. He couldn’t be attracted to this woman, his best friend’s ex, could he?
She continued to stir whatever was in that pot and seemed to be completely oblivious to his presence. Daveed wished he could say the same about his reaction to her. He couldn’t help noticing her hair had regained its usual bouncy curl and now hung loose down her back in a shimmering wave. He found his fingertips itchy to touch it, to discover if it felt as soft as it looked.
Sighing loud, he cleared his throat and stepped forward, hoping to alert her that she was not alone and avoid scaring her half to death. “You’re up late,” he said quietly.
No such luck.
At the sound of his voice, Melody jumped about a foot in the air as she whirled to face him, the wooden spoon in her hand clattering to the floor as she gave a startled scream. “Oh, my God! You can’t sneak up on me like that! You almost gave me a heart attack!”
Daveed summoned every ounce of patience he possessed as he picked the spoon up off the floor and rinsed it in the sink for her before handing it back. “I cleared my throat before I spoke. I thought that would be enough warning. My apologies.”
She snatched the spoon from him, frowning as she turned back toward the stove. “Make some noise, why don’t you? Bump into something like a normal person. Cause a ruckus, anything to let people know you’re there.”
Like you? He wanted to say, but refrained. Arguing with her in the wee hours of the morning wouldn’t help either of them get some sleep. Instead, he leaned his hips against the edge of the countertop and peered into the pan on the stove. “What are you making?”
“Warm milk,” she said, not looking at him. Her cheeks were flushed a pretty shade of pink, though whether it was from the heat of the stove or from the fright he’d given her, Daveed wasn’t sure. Despite his initial annoyance over her reaction, he felt bad about scaring her like that.
“I’m sorry for frightening you,” he said, turning to grab two mugs from the cupboard behind him. “I didn’t expect anyone else to be up this time of night.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said, so low he would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been paying attention. “Too much on my mind.”
He held the cups while she poured the milk into them, then they walked into the living room to sit on the loveseat in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. The dim light from the kitchen cast the room in a soft glow that didn’t detract from the glorious Manhattan skyline twinkling outside. In the distance, the colored lights of the huge Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center were just visible through the haze of light snow falling. No matter how many holidays he spent in the city, it was still a magical time of year.
Melody sighed and snuggled into her corner of the loveseat, drawing his attention back to her again, not that it had ever gone far away. She kept glancing at him through her lashes, as if he wouldn’t notice, and that pink in her cheeks darkened.
His masculine instincts all but purred. She was checking him out. And if her frequent glances and the slight hitch in her breath were any indication, she liked what she saw. Maybe going without a shirt hadn’t been such a bad idea at all.
Daveed frowned and shoved those errant thoughts aside. Melody was off limits, for more reasons than one. She was Heath’s ex, a troublemaker, nothing but a spoiled little rich girl who’d been smacked upside the head by reality for the first time in her life. Common sense said he should steer well clear of her and her crazy.
Except when they’d had dinner earlier, she hadn’t seemed spoiled at all. In fact, she’d seemed funny and smart and even self-deprecating during their conversation. And if what she’d said about her parents cutting her off was correct, she was no longer rich either. Far from the diva extraordinaire the tabloids portrayed.
Perhaps he’d been guilty of stereotyping her. And given his situation—an Arab man in America during a contentious time overseas in the Middle East?
?he of all people should know the dangers of social profiling.
