he murmured, When you walked into a room, it would have showed on his face . . . if he really loved you.
It would have showed on his face . . . And it did show. It just showed on the face of a man she hadn’t bothered to look at for far too long. Zach. The man who’d always been there.
Her throat was tight as she thought back over the past few weeks. Zach’s face. He could be talking to somebody, anybody, and he’d know when she was there. He’d look up at her, and that smile would come across his face.
Something warm and easy, but . . . more than that.
It made her heart ache more than once, and there was something in his eyes, too: possessive, hungry, proud, and wondering. It might have been too much, but when she looked at him now, she felt the same way.
She never seemed to notice that I was staring . . .
“Me.” She slowed down at a red light. Had he really been talking about her?
But then she thought back to last night. Just last night. She pressed the heel of her hand to the tattoo he’d painted across her torso and thought back. He’d never really given her a straight answer, she realized.
She went to turn right, but abruptly realized she didn’t want to go to the shop wearing her work clothes, smelling like she’d just spent the entire day cooking. Hell, the muleheaded man ought to be home but she knew he wouldn’t be.
Groaning, she checked the time. He’d be there for another couple of hours. She could go home, but that would take most of those hours and she couldn’t wait.
His place, though, that was close.
She usually kept an extra outfit for work, and a pair of jeans and a t-shirt there, although that wasn’t exactly ideal. She’d make do.
On the drive, she replayed the conversation from last night through her head.
Sometimes, sugar, people come into your life and they mean everything.
So she means a lot to you.
People come and go all the time. But there’s only been one woman who came and stayed and mattered . . . it’s you.
That’s not what I was asking, Zach. I know I’m important to you. I just—
Important . . . Abby. Important describes what I have to do by April 14. Important describes getting my license renewed, my bills paid, payroll . . . Abby. You’re not important. You’re everything.
Everything . . .
Yeah. The way he made her feel when he looked at her, when he touched her. She could believe that.
* * *
The drive to his condo took far too long, at least in her opinion. The clock said it was only fifteen minutes but what did the clock know?
Five minutes after she’d parked the car, she was letting herself inside. She reset the alarm and she tore into his bedroom, dumping her spare clothes on the bed as she stripped out of her dirty ones. With her fingers working the buttons of her shirt, she headed to his closet. Maybe she’d borrow a shirt . . .
Yeah.
There was a green silk one that she thought would work just fine.
He spent most of his time in t-shirts and boots, but he knew his way around nicer pieces of clothing. And he could rock a suit like nobody’s business. She stroked a hand down the sleeve of a steel gray jacket and thought about seeing him in that . . . maybe soon, she thought. Maybe soon.
But for now, she was going to have to get her butt ready and go corner him in his office. And if he thought he could put her off this time, he was out of his skull.
* * *
“Keelie, you and I need to talk about something, and you’re going to listen very carefully to what I have to say,” he said softly, picking up a pencil and starting to sketch out a design absently. Better to do that than look at her, because he wanted to keep his temper. Keep his cool.
“Look, if you’re going to rip me a new one because I took care of things after the break-in, then you can just kiss my ass. You had enough going on and I wanted to help,” she said. He glanced up as she surged out of the chair and started to pace, her hands shoved deep in her pockets, her strides long and angry. “Besides, I own half the place, remember?