anyone had called him a young man in recent times.
“Yes,” Aspen said. “Um, it’s work related.”
“Good afternoon,” Liam said.
Mrs. Kerber smiled. “Oh, such a lovely accent. I dated a Brit once, before I met Mr. Kerber.”
Aspen shoved Liam up the stairs ahead of her. “We really have to go. I’ll see you later, Mrs. Kerber.”
She unlocked her door and practically pushed Liam inside.
“Luckily she’s half blind without her glasses,” Aspen said. “Anyone home?”
Silence greeted them and he heard Aspen release a sigh of relief.
“Who’s Skittles?” he asked.
“Mrs. Kerber’s bird. She lets him out and he escapes sometimes. I usually find him for her.”
“Aspen Chandler, rescuer of abducted people, blackmailed billionaires, and lost birds.”
She wrinkled her nose.
He walked into her place, keen to see it. He was assaulted by greenery. There were clean, white walls, lots of comfy, unfussy lines. There was a big couch that said, “come sit a while”, and plants everywhere—big ones, small ones, draping ones. Some were in giant pots, others in small, decorative urns.
He felt a sense of peace. There were pops of color here and there. A pink jacket tossed over a chair. A spill of books and magazines on the coffee table. A tube of lipstick on the kitchen counter. The kitchen had a tiny island, with two stools.
“Sit,” she ordered.
He shed his jacket. Damn, his white shirt was a write off. Blood had dripped down and soaked into the collar. “I like your place. You have a green thumb.”
“Yes. It started when I was a teenager.”
“Oh?” He detected something in her voice.
She shrugged a shoulder. “I had this plant when I was young. An orchid. After my father left, I neglected it, and it withered. Then, I was determined to keep it alive. I babied it, watered it, sang to it. And then it flowered, and it was beautiful.”
A young girl whose life was out of control, finding control once more through a plant.
“I was hooked after that.” She pulled out a first aid kit and set it on the island. She spotted a folded piece of paper on the island, and snatched it up.
“What?” he asked.
“Oh, the twins are out with my mom. She came down to take them to an art show. They won’t be home until late. Phew.”
He felt a spurt of annoyance. “So you can sneak me out of here like a dirty, little secret.”
She frowned at him. “It’s not that. You’re a freaking billionaire, Liam. Your presence would generate a whole bunch of questions I don’t want to answer right now.”
Patience, Kensington. He took a deep breath.
Aspen tore open a wipe, tipped antiseptic on it. “Hold still.” She cupped his cheek and dabbed at the cut on his temple.
He saw the words inked on her forearm. Words that said so much about her. He looked at that sexy dimple in her chin, then cupped her cheek. They could have both been shot today. Flying bullets tended to put things into very sharp focus.
Made a person realize what was important.
Her gaze moved to his. Damn, she was so beautiful.
“So, your mom and sisters are out late?” he said.
“Yes.”
“And we don’t need to meet Boone at the warehouse for hours.”
She leaned closer, gripping the collar of his shirt. “Yes.”
“You haven’t shown me your bedroom, yet.”
She pressed her tongue to her teeth. “No, I haven’t.”
He tugged her against him.
“Liam, we were just shot at—”
“I know. It makes me want to celebrate being alive.” He nipped her lips. “And celebrate having the sexiest, most competent woman I know under my hands.”
He took her mouth. Damn, every time he kissed her was like a punch to the gut.
He pulled her closer to straddle him, then rose. She clamped her arms and legs around him.
“Which room is yours?” he asked.
She waved a hand.
He strode through the neat living space. As he walked into her bedroom, he turned his head. She nipped at his jaw.
“I like your bedroom.” He did. There were lush plants, and a serene feel. Candles and more plants rested on a shelf.
“Thanks. It’s my little haven.”
Liam put one knee on the bed and lowered her to the pretty, soft cover.
“Now, let’s christen this bed of yours.” With a smile, he pressed his mouth to hers and started to unbutton her shirt.
Aspen
I collapsed on top of Liam, panting, pleasure still flooding me.
He ran a lazy hand up my back and I shivered.
“Well, I’m glad you like my room,” I murmured.
His fingers danced over the knobs of my spine. “I really like you.”
God,