way down the back of Teddy’s neck despite his popped collar. He should have brought his parka, but he’d figured it would be overkill for Seattle’s moderate temperatures. Besides, two weeks ago at a thrift shop he’d scored a Todd Snyder tweed windowpane topcoat that was infinitely more stylish. He wanted to look good for Joyce Alexander.
“I’ll sleep on the love seat if it bothers you that much.”
Teddy blinked raindrops from his eyelashes as he looked up at Romeo. “What?”
“You look like you’re marching to your doom. But there’s a love seat in our room. If I use that little table as an ottoman I could sleep there.”
“You are way too tall to sleep on the love seat.”
“You want the love seat then?”
“We can share the bed, Romeo. It’s big.”
Which sounded sensible enough as they were entering the lobby. But then Teddy had to stand close to Romeo in the elevator and smell his cologne, which was subtle and fruity and actually might have been just his shampoo. And as they walked down the hallway, the brush of fabric as Romeo swung his arms against the body of his trench coat reminded Teddy of the sound of rustling bedsheets. Finally, inside the room, Teddy saw the moisture glistening like faceted gems in Romeo’s close-cropped dark curls.
Maybe the love seat wasn’t such a bad idea after all. But a quick glance confirmed Teddy’s fears: it was far too small even for him, and the squishy cushions would kill his back. Bed it was. Luckily he was exhausted and a little tipsy and would probably fall asleep quickly in spite of everything. “I’m gonna turn in. Big day tomorrow.”
“I have some work to do first. But I can take my laptop down to the lobby.”
Teddy gestured at the desk. “Stay here. You won’t bother me.” Over the past decade, he’d shared space with roommates who liked to blast music in the wee hours, and he’d lived in apartments with so little soundproofing he’d yell “Bless you” when his neighbor sneezed. His current studio was fairly quiet, but light leaked in under the door to the corridor and around the curtains no matter what he tried. A little tip-tapping at a computer was no big deal.
“Thanks.” Romeo gave him another of those smiles, as if Teddy had granted him a huge favor. With no meat to stab, Teddy opted to hurry into the bathroom instead.
By the time he emerged, brushed, washed, and cocooned in a pair of corgi-print flannel pajamas, Romeo was already seated at the desk and peering at his screen. He turned around to look at Teddy but then made a weird little squeak and quickly swung away.
“Sorry,” Teddy said as he hurried to the bed. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll be asleep in minutes, though, and I’ve been assured I don’t snore.”
Without taking his eyes off the screen, Romeo nodded.
The bed was amazing. Back home, Teddy slept on a double-bed mattress long past its prime. His bedding was cute—teal peacocks in warm months; cranberry toile flannel in cold—but inexpensive and a little threadbare. Plus he didn’t have a zillion pillows. Now he arranged everything carefully, noting the acres of space between himself and what would be Romeo’s spot, and snuggled under the duvet. The only light in the room came from Romeo’s screen, and most of that was blocked by his body.
Perfect. Comfortable, cozy, and he’d barely even notice he was sharing the bed. He probably wouldn’t even wake up when Romeo joined him.
Except Teddy couldn’t fall asleep. His eyelids kept stubbornly opening, his gaze turning to the figure bent over the desk. Wide shoulders. A vulnerable-looking nape, where the skin was undoubtedly as soft as expensive suede. Long fingers that kept rising up from the keyboard to rub a spot just in front of one ear or scratch at those lips.
Oh, dear. Teddy suppressed a groan. This was going to be harder than he thought.
Chapter Seven
Thanks to the time difference, an early bedtime, and nerves, Teddy woke up unreasonably early. Instead of doing something sensible like getting out of bed, he rolled over to look at Romeo, who was still fast asleep.
Big mistake.
With his lips slightly parted and his long eyelashes fanned over his cheekbones, Romeo looked young and innocent and beautiful, a mythological god taken from a painting and brought to life. Only he was neither a god nor an art piece, but rather a living, breathing human being. A coworker. The irritating computer guy with the