be in for a hell of a surprise when he came back to the car. I would actually raid our overstretched budget and pay good money to see the look on his face.
My hip hurt. I would put the dog pillow down for Shadow, then I would wash my hands and go down to eat some lunch, during which I would sit across from Runa and Ragnar and have to think of some way to explain why I hadn’t found their sister yet. Ugh.
I walked into my loft.
Alessandro Sagredo lounged on my bed. He lay propped on one elbow, his large, muscular frame taking up the entire space. He couldn’t be real; he had to be a painting made to tempt women; masculine, handsome, erotic, from the broad spread of his shoulders and his flat stomach to his long legs.
Shadow lay next to him, chewing on some yellow rectangular thing.
Alessandro raised his head. His amber eyes lit up and he smiled a slow, lazy smile, like a wolf cornering a doe.
He was holding the pink frame with his picture in it, which I had left on my nightstand.
The enormity of it hit me all at once. I wanted to fall through the floor, strangle him, grab my dog, and scream at the same time. My brain took those conflicting urges and compromised. I dropped the dog pillow and hurled the pack of puppy pads at his head.
Alessandro caught the pack one-handed and tossed it to the floor. He didn’t even move, the son of a bitch. Just raised his hand, caught the pack, and went back to looking at the picture.
He turned the frame, so I could see his picture in it. “Smoochie poo?”
“It’s Italian for ass clown. What are you doing in my room?”
“Admiring your taste in arts and crafts?” He tilted the frame. “The application of glitter could use some work.”
“Shadow, come here.”
Shadow wagged her tail and stayed exactly where she was.
“What is she eating?”
“A Himalayan yak treat. Unlike you, your dog can be reasoned with.”
“Yak what? What part of the yak?”
“Relax. It’s made of cheese.” He tilted the photograph toward me, so the light caught the pink glitter. “Can we postpone the topic of dog treats and go back to the fact that you have my picture in a pink frame on your nightstand?”
“It came with the frame.”
He grinned.
If I had a gun, I would’ve shot him. I did have a gun. It was locked in the nightstand. Getting it would mean risking being within his reach, and he was very fast.
“I took some pics in Sydney last week, on the beach. With my shirt off. I can send a few to your phone, if you’d like.”
How dare . . . “No, I wouldn’t like.”
Alessandro raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure? Judging by the condition of my car, you have a lot of pent-up anger.”
He’d watched me take apart his Jeep. Probably while searching my room. It was good that humans couldn’t spontaneously explode, because otherwise I would have disintegrated.
“What does my anger have to do with your selfies?”
“You might find having a hot pic of me by your bed relaxing.”
He did not just imply what I thought he implied.
Yes, yes, he did.
“If I wanted a hot pic by my bed for relaxation, it wouldn’t be yours.” There.
“You’re right. Why settle for a picture when you can have the real thing?” He spread his arms. “I’m right here.”
Oh my God.
“In your bed. Waiting.”
Yes . . . No. No!
He was looking at me as if I was naked.
It was my most secret fantasy. He was in my room. On my bed. Looking at me. Smiling at me like he wanted me. Everything I’d ever dreamed of was right there.
My heart pounded in my chest at a million beats per minute. My cheeks grew warm. I gathered all my will into a steel fist. Do not blush. Do NOT blush. Why was this happening to me? He wasn’t even doing anything. He was just looking at me and talking.
Alessandro studied me, and when he spoke, his tone sent tiny shivers down my neck. It was intimate and seductive, and it promised me all the things I wanted and couldn’t have. “Is it because your family is downstairs? Don’t worry, we can be very quiet.”
The temptation to cross the room and touch him was almost too much. I could . . . No, I couldn’t. He was mocking me. He saw the picture, put two and two together, and now