money he was shaking his head after noticing my bookcase sprawled on the floor, or if not that, he was probably scalding the bookcase with a disapproving look. I’d assembled it just fine on my own, but I hadn’t dared to actually lift it and move it. That would be the next day’s job, or the next. It all depended on how my back was feeling.
“How are you planning to get in exactly?” he asked, his voice just barely rising so I could hear him.
“Get in where?”
“Into my apartment—our apartment.”
Our apartment. Dear God. Exactly when would I get used to the fact that I was living with this man now, and how, for two entire weeks, had it not even crossed my mind how I’d get back into his little mansion? Then again, since he came to the coffee shop every night to pick me up, I had no reason to think of keys.
To be fair, he had never acted as if I wasn’t welcome in his home. Sure, he was curt and exasperating sometimes, but still, every night, he offered to give the tour he had mentioned that first night and asked if I’d had anything to eat. You’d think that was sweet of him, but that was all he would say. Still sweet though.
“I tried to leave a set of keys with you this morning, but when I knocked on your door, you were already gone and I had to leave for work,” he explained. Surprised, I couldn’t think of anything to say. Then he reappeared in the archway and came back to stand in front of me, patiently waiting for an explanation.
It hit me, and I winced. “Ah, is that why you come here to pick me up every night?” I blew out a breath and sighed. “I was just thinking I shouldn’t keep apologizing to you, but for the last time, I’m sorry. I hope you haven’t been cutting your plans short and coming here just because I don’t have a key.”
“No need to apologize. I only thought about the key last night, and no, I’m not coming here every night just because you don’t have a key. Today, I was already on the east side, and when I couldn’t get in touch with you, I thought I’d come here and give you a ride back.”
What about all the other nights? I wanted to ask but kept my mouth shut.
“I’m still having trouble sleeping. I’m not exactly sure why, but I always wake up at four or five. I wait until six and then leave. Instead of tossing and turning in bed, I try to do something useful around here.” I met his gaze, out of words, out of explanations.
“I know what time you leave, Rose.”
As soon as he finished his sentence, he started to take off his suit jacket, and my attention shifted again.
“Uh, what are you doing?”
“I’m assuming the bookcase won’t be living on the floor and you want it up, correct?” He looked around and then pointed to the exact spot I’d planned to put it, right next to where my humongous espresso machine was going to happily take up residence in just a few days. “There?”
“Yes, that’s wha…”
He unbuttoned his cuffs and my gaze dropped to follow his movements. This again? Then he started to roll his sleeves up, and I couldn’t remember what I had been about to say—which was becoming annoying, if nothing else—but also his fingers looked really long. Apart from having strong features, insanely beautiful eyes, a very enjoyable-to-look-at face, and a jawline that worked extremely well with that broody personality he had going on, he also had very manly hands. That must’ve been nice for him. They were easily twice the size of mine. They looked strong. The kind that made you look twice, if you were into that sort of thing. Apparently I was. Very.
Jeez, Rose.
I mentally shook myself out of it, looked away, cleared my throat, and spoke up. “I was planning on doing that tomorrow. You don’t have to get your clothes dirty, Jack. I can handle it myself.”
I wasn’t one of those people who would reject help at all times, but getting help from Jack…I didn’t want to be indebted to him more than I already was.
Ignoring me, he moved toward the bookcase while still working on those sleeves, for Christ’s sake. I followed him in quick steps, my eyes—the traitors—stealing glances at his hands rolling those sleeves up. He was still wearing