Chapter Five

Abby woke to the sense that something was different. She pulled the covers down and realized, first, she was still in the sweats and tee she’d changed into when she got home from the hospital and not her pajamas; two, her glasses and laptop were on her bedside table; and three, Moonlight wasn’t next to her where she usually was every morning.

Abby spied her cat the moment she came out of the bedroom, snuggled up against Rick on the couch.

The little traitor.

All six foot plus of Rick was sprawled on his back. His feet dangled over one of the armrests, his arms were thrown over his head, and one of her spare blankets covered the lower half of his body while the upper half was gloriously naked.

The man had some serious upper body musculature.

Eye-candy serious.

A dark dusting of curly hair swirled from his pecs across his nipples and down lower, to disappear under the blanket. For a hot second, Abby had the insane urge to tug the blanket all the way down to see if he slept naked.

A resounding thump echoed in the quiet room when the cat dropped down from her spot to the rug and padded toward her.

Rick stirred and stretched, the blanket pulling lower, enough to show her a glimpse of jet black riding low on his waist.

There went the fantasy of him being naked.

She shouldn’t stare. Really. It was rude. But…

All that hard muscle rippling under the stretch had her mouth watering, and it wasn’t because she was hungry for breakfast.

When the cat gave one of its loud and throaty cries, Abby scooped her up and whispered, “Shhh. Be quiet, and I’ll get you something to eat.”

“Does she ever answer you back, Abigail?”

How unfair was it the man had a body to drool over and a wake-up voice that sent her girlie parts quivering?

Abby glanced over her shoulder and almost dropped the cat.

Rick stood, clad in black boxers hugging every powerful, chiseled muscle from his waist straight down to the center of his thighs. His abdominal obliques indented on either side of his hip bones, trenching down under the boxers, a happy trail of jet black curls swirling along with it.

Eyes crinkling at the corners, his mouth dipped into a sexy half smile.

“I’m sorry we woke you,” she said, moving into the kitchen.

“It was time to get up anyway.” The metallic rasp of a zipper fastening told her he’d dragged on his pants.

“Was the couch comfortable?”

“It was fine. I’d’ve slept on the floor if I had to. The couch was a gift.”

Moonlight’s thunderous purring started up as soon as her bowl was filled.

“Your cat snores, by the way. Loudly.”

Abby grinned and looked up at him from where she’d sat on the floor next to Moonlight.

“I know. It took me about two weeks to get used to it. The first time she hopped into bed, she woke me with the noise. I thought she was sick or hurt. I’m sorry if she bothered you.”

“She didn’t bother me, but it was jarring to hear. Sounds like a plane taking off.”

Abby rose, satisfied Moonlight was eating well, and filled the kettle. “You could have slept in your own bed, you know. I was fine, like I told you I would be.”

Rick yawned. “You got any coffee?”

“Help yourself.” She pointed to a cabinet. “I’ve got to shower and get ready. I need to be in court by ten, and I want to drop by the hospital first and check on Lila.”

“You could just call. It would save you a trip.”

Abby shook her head. “No. I want to see her for myself.” Rick moved into the kitchen, and the space suddenly felt cramped. When he reached over her, sweeping his arm along her shoulder, and took down a jar of coffee, Abby was torn between side-stepping out of his way and staying put on the off chance he’d accidently touch her again.

Rick stepped back and turned, giving her a pleasant, shameless view of his back. And a surprise.

“Military ink?” she asked, taking in the colorful tattoo across his left scapula of a waving American flag and dog tags spread underneath it.

“What? Oh, yeah. I tend to forget the tat is there.”

“Are those your dog tags?”

He nodded.

When he didn’t say anything else she was tempted to let it go, let him have his privacy.

But…

“So, why the flag and tags?”

“What do you mean?” He turned around to face her, arms crossed over his chest.

“Why not a tat of your unit?”

If she hadn’t been watching him, she would have never seen the way his eyes went flat. As quick as they did, they shot back to their normal, lazy glare.

He shrugged, and for a moment, Abby got sidetracked by the erotic way his arms rippled with the movement.

“Remember the little talk we had last night about me not knowing anything about you, Bannerman?”

“Yeah. So?”

“Now would be a good time to start sharing. What’s with the tattoo? Because I’ve got a feeling there’s a story involved.”

“Don’t you have to get ready for court?”

“I can spare a minute.” She grinned. “And you’re deflecting.”

When he dragged in a deep breath, Abby feared he wasn’t going to answer her. When he stayed silent, she knew he wouldn’t. “You know what? Forget it.”

She made it halfway to her bedroom before he said, “Wait.”

She turned around and tossed him the stink eye she’d perfected for staring witnesses down.

Rick ran a hand through one temple. “I never intended on getting a tat at all.”

“And yet…” She waved her hand at him.

He blew out a breath. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly in my right mind when I did.”

“What does that mean?” She moved back into the kitchen and lifted the cat when she started weaving around her legs.

“If was after…a mission. Me and some guys from my unit got drunk. We wound up in a back-alley joint. The owner didn’t speak English, or anything resembling it. Couple guys went first. When it came time for me, I said no way. I’d already watched two things crawl across the counter. I knew no way was this place clean. But, like I said, there was a lot of alcohol involved. One thing led to another, and the next morning, I woke up in my bunk with a killer headache and a tattoo I never wanted. Scared me deep for about a year. Every day I got up wondering if I was gonna wind up with hepatitis or something worse.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Thankfully.”

“Bit of a germaphobe, are you, Bannerman?”

“You would be too, if you saw the size of those bugs.”

She grinned into her mug. “You said the guy didn’t speak English. Where were you?”

He stared at her a moment, and she swore she could hear his brain working.

Finally, he shook his head. “Somewhere in the Middle East.”

“Why? Top secret locale? You’ll need to kill me if I know what your location was?”

She’d said it lightly, hoping he’d take it as the joke she’d intended. He’d been so serious while telling her the tale, the notion it might be bringing up unpleasant memories shot through her.

“Something like that.” He didn’t smile when he said it.

“Okay. Well then.” She put her empty cup in the sink. “On that a happy note, I’m going to shower.”

“I’ll go in when you’re done. It won’t take me long.”

She nodded, the mental image of him naked, wet, and soapy in her shower rendering her speechless.

A half hour later, dressed and ready for the day, she found him typing on his laptop at her kitchen counter, still shirtless. A filled mug of coffee sat next to him.

“Bathroom’s all clear,” she said.

He glanced up, did a double take.

“You look nice,” he told her, his eyes taking their time trailing down her body. “Very professional.”

A sleeveless pewter wraparound dress drifted down to just above her knees. Abby loved how the cut showed off all the triceps pushups she’d done over the winter to tone and define her upper arms. She’d top the dress with a matching jacket before leaving and slip into the black heels she’d bought with the money she’d saved walking to her office for a month instead of taking a cab each day.

“Very…lawyerish,” he added.

Abby squinted up at him and cocked her head. Pointing her index finger at her chest, she said, “Lawyer. Remember?”

His gaze dropped to her finger and its target. Like they had the night before when his eyes settled on her breasts, her nipples pulled and rolled into two hard balls under his concentrated scrutiny. Pressed against the satin cups of her bra, the sensation was equal parts sublime and tortuous. The slow, sensual smile that started in one corner of his lips and took its time traveling to the other had her holding her breath in anticipation.

When his smile finally bloomed full force, Abby wondered how any woman possessing a pulse could resist him. One glance at him shirtless and grinning in her kitchen, made her want to grab hold of his naked shoulders, jump up and circle her legs around his waist and lay claim to his fabulous mouth.

Been there; done that; not doing it again.

Despite the way her body reacted to him, her head was still in charge, so she took a mental breath. Using the voice she used with recalcitrant witnesses, she said, “And due in court soon, so since you insist on hovering around me, get in the shower or I’m going to leave without you.”

She turned, dismissing him, to rinse her mug. His hand wound around her upper arm and gently turned her back to face him.

Gone was the sensual smirk and laughing eyes. His expression was as serious as a heart attack and equally as deadly. “Not gonna happen, Abigail. I’m sticking until I’m convinced you’re safe.”

“Fine,” she said with a great deal more calm than she felt. “I’m stuck with you for the duration. But you can’t screw up my schedule. I have client obligations and can’t be late for court, so get your ass in gear, Bannerman.”

When she tugged, he let go of her arm. With a final eye rake at her outfit, he left her alone.

The thought to have another cup of tea raced out of her head as she placed a hand across her shaking abdomen.

Damn the man for being so…so…male.