try your brussel sprouts. I’ll be scarred for life if I have to dread it for that long. Just get it over with already.”
Her jaw dropped. “Where is the trust?”
“In God.” He tapped the end of her nose, a superior smile riding his mouth. “Not in brussel sprouts.”
“That’s it.” She waved her finger threateningly at him. “New mission. You’re not just going to choke down a few of my brussel sprouts and be done with it. You’re going to love my brussel sprouts.”
His upper lip curled. “Maybe when the North Pole melts.”
Her gaze narrowed on him. “Challenge accepted.”
He drew a finger down her cheek. “Now that we’ve got that settled, go dream about me, beautiful.”
“I don’t think I’m going to get much sleep tonight,” she sighed. There was too much going on. Too much to ponder and too much to worry about. Most unfortunately, she had one of those kinds of brains that tended to work on overtime.
“Yeah. Me, neither. But to keep things respectable between us, I’m going to go and not sleep at my place instead of yours.”
“Respectable, huh?” she asked dreamily, loving the sound of that.
“Always. I’m disgustingly old-fashioned about stuff like that.” He leaned in to brush his mouth against hers one last time. “Hope that’s not going to be a problem for us.”
She chuckled against his lips. “I was thinking more along the lines that it’s not going to be a problem for you. My father has a sizable gun collection.” That he no longer remembers he owns.
“Every father with a daughter should.”
“Gosh! He’s going to love you.” Or would have, if he was still in his right mind. She bit her lip, knowing she was going to have to come clean soon about the true state of affairs with her father. But Titus already had more than enough family drama to juggle for one evening. An explanation about her father’s medical condition could easily wait a few more days.
“That’s the plan.” Titus waggled his dark brows at her. “Well, part of the plan, anyway. I’m more concerned about lassoing this heart than anyone else’s.” He tapped a finger against Jolene’s cardigan above the organ in question.
She grew still. “Just be patient, alright? This is a big step for me, but I promise we’re moving in the direction you want.”
“I’m not going anywhere, doll.”
Me, neither. “Thank you.” She kissed him with her eyes, not nearly ready to let him go for the night.
“Because you’re worth waiting for.” He tugged her inside the house, toward her garage. “Come shut the garage door behind me. Then promise me you’ll bolt all the doors.”
“Cross my heart.”
“And set the alarm system, assuming you have one.”
“I do.”
“I like the sound of those two words. Feel free to practice saying them a few hundred more times after I leave.”
She stared after him in bemusement, echoing the words in her head as she listened to him roar away on his motorcycle.
I do, you amazing man. I do! I do! I do!
Chapter 5: Suspicions
Titus
Rhys Calcagni paged Titus on his earpiece on his way back to his apartment. “Need to talk. In private.”
Since he was idling at a red light, Titus killed his motor to make it easier for his employer to hear him. “Now?”
“If possible. Where are you?”
“On my way home.”
Rhys’s black and silver Bugatti was idling outside Titus’s apartment when he rumbled his way to the curb. Though he couldn’t see anything through the tinted, bulled proof windows on the sides, he could make out Major’s outline at the wheel.
He leaped from the driver’s seat to open one of the passenger doors.
“You did not just open the door for me,” Titus growled, sending a not-too-gentle punch to his shoulder. He and Major were friends. There was no way he was letting some perceived change in his financial status alter that fact.
Major shrugged, looking a tad sheepish. “When you’re on the clock…”
Rhys leaned closer to the opening to see what was going on between the two men. “Get in already.”
“We’ll revisit this later.” With a furious scowl at his friend, Titus climbed inside. With a little luck, his employer either wouldn’t notice or wouldn’t ask about the grass and dirt stains on his pants legs.
Even though it was late, Rhys still looked male model worthy in a pair of dark beige slacks with a sports coat the color of dark red wine. Go figure. He was missing his tie, however, and the top button of his perfectly pressed dress shirt was unbuttoned. It