Gold Rush (Blackwood Security #4) - Elise Noble Page 0,42

lips.

“I can make breakfast for you,” I offered.

He turned around. A chiselled V ran down the muscles on either side of his abs and disappeared into his waistband, but the dark circles smudged under his eyes spoiled the image. The drooping eyelids. The slumped shoulders. I didn’t know what I wanted to do more—give him a hug or lick him. The stubble flecking his jaw would undoubtedly be rough on my tongue, but who cared?

“I didn’t think you’d be here on a Sunday,” he rasped, tiredness turning his silken voice hoarse.

“We never really discussed my hours. I didn’t want to assume I could take a day off.”

“You pick your own hours. If I want you for anything specific, I’ll ask.”

“Well, I’m here now, and if you don’t mind my saying, you don’t look great. How many hours’ sleep have you had?”

“About none.”

“Then you should be in bed.”

“Wish that were the case, but I have a meeting in an hour.”

“Can’t you move it?”

“No. I’ll be fine. I just need something to eat and a jug of coffee.”

He leaned back against the counter and yawned. My mouth started to open in sympathy even though I wasn’t tired, but I stopped it in time and clamped my teeth together.

“Let me take care of breakfast. You go and get changed. I’m guessing you’re not going to your meeting dressed in jeans?”

He looked down at himself and chuckled. “Don’t suppose my client would appreciate me turning up like this.”

“If your client was a woman, she probably would.” Oh, holy fudging mother of Gollum, did I say that out loud? Judging by the way Nick was staring at me, I think I probably did.

He let out a bark of laughter. “My client is a sixty-year-old man. I’ll change.”

Face burning up once again, I retrieved the scrambled eggs Nick had been trying to cook from the microwave and poked them. Solid. How long had he nuked them for? An hour? I’d need a scouring pad for that bowl later. I started from scratch with a couple of fresh eggs, made him some toast, and brewed a strong pot of coffee.

Fifteen minutes later, he came back, and my jaw dropped. Okay, breathe. It’s just a suit. A dark charcoal, custom-made suit that only served to emphasise his broad chest and well-muscled legs. Darn it, Lara, shut your mouth. He collapsed onto a stool and drained the coffee before digging into the eggs.

“You want another cup?” I asked.

“Wouldn’t say no.”

Thankfully, I’d used the big cafetière, and the rich smell of arabica had me craving a mugful myself.

“You look exhausted. I’d offer to drive you, but I don’t have a car.”

“You can drive? I thought you couldn’t. I see you walking down to the road at the end of the day.”

“Yes, I have a licence.”

“Then why do you take cabs? Why not buy a car?”

“I don’t take cabs. I ride the bus. It’s cheaper than running my own vehicle.”

His eyebrows scrunched together, and he put down his fork. “Lara, you live in a sh…in a not so nice area. How far is the bus stop from your apartment?”

“Maybe a ten-minute walk.”

“You’re not doing that anymore. The garage is full of cars. Take one of them.”

He made it sound so straightforward. What was the catch?

“I can’t take one of your cars. It’s not fair.”

“Why isn’t it?”

“Well, because.”

“That’s not an answer. Look, call it a company car.”

“Housekeepers don’t generally get company cars.”

“You run errands and shit, don’t you? Take the damn car.” He shovelled in another mouthful of eggs, then glanced at his watch. “That’s not optional, and I don’t have time to argue.”

We could finish discussing the matter when he wasn’t shoving his stubbornness in my face.

“Okay, fine.”

He showed me the lockbox on the wall in the hallway and gave me the code so I could get the key to the garage and whatever car I wanted out of it.

“Do you want me to drive you to your meeting?” I asked.

“Emmy’s picking me up.”

Oh, okay then. I instructed my hormones to stand down as he headed for the door, but…

“Hang on. Your tie’s not straight.”

He stood still while I fixed it for him, so conscious of the heat of his chest under my hands. As I tightened the knot, I could see the pulse beating in his neck, strong and steady while mine raced twice as fast. I tried to calm my breathing as the roar of Emmy’s Corvette sounded in the driveway.

“Thanks,” Nick called as he dashed out of the

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