Rich (Benson Security #5) - Janet Elizabeth Henderson Page 0,43

grateful. She didn’t see the need to dissect the evening. They’d come to dance and get used to each other, and that’s what they were doing. The last thing she wanted was any comment about her enjoying herself. Mainly, she was just hoping Harvard hadn’t noticed.

When he walked her to their taxi, Rachel found herself leaning into his touch instead of away from it. And they sat close beside each other all the way back to Kensington. Neither of them commented on their thighs touching.

They made their way downstairs to their bedrooms in silence but paused before opening their doors.

“Successful night,” Harvard said, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his jeans, making her wonder if it was an attempt to keep from touching her. He’d reached for her so frequently throughout the evening that it almost felt strange to have any distance between them now.

“I’m glad,” Rachel said. “Hopefully, people won’t have any suspicions about our fake relationship now.”

“Hopefully.” His smile made her stomach flip flop. “Good night, Rachel.”

She put her hand on her door and hesitated. “You know, it might be a good idea to go dancing again—once or twice. Just to make sure we do everything we can to maintain our cover.”

He didn’t turn back to her, but she could have sworn he was smiling. “Say the word, and I’ll take you anytime you want. Anything for the mission, you know that.”

“Exactly.” Rachel walked into her room and quietly closed the door behind her.

Chapter Twelve

Over the next week, Rachel found she’d settled into a kind of routine with Harvard. They went dancing whenever she asked him to take her—purely to help them maintain their cover, of course. She let him drive her to work and home again, and during the day, he wandered in and out of her office at random times, doing who knows what the rest of the time. He’d soon made friends at TayFor, showing his skill for obtaining information from people without them even knowing it was happening.

He usually updated her on what he’d uncovered over a shared dinner. Sometimes they ordered in. Sometimes he cooked. And he was a surprisingly good cook. Rachel had begun to wonder if there was anything Harvard couldn’t do well, because the list of his skills seemed infinite.

Which irritated her no end.

“What’s up with you?” he asked as they entered her apartment.

That was another thing. She was never alone. Either Harvard was in her space, just being there, using the air. Or everyone assigned to the TayFor investigation was hanging out around her dining table, talking over their progress. Why, she didn’t know. Because they weren’t making any progress. One week after finding the memory card reader, and they still had no clue who’d put it there.

She threw her suit jacket over the back of one of her sofas. At this rate, the investigation would never end, and Harvard would have moved in with her permanently. And how was she supposed to resist him then? He was upending her whole life—a life she’d managed to arrange perfectly to suit herself. And he smiled while he did it. That damn sexy smile of his was a continual temptation.

He was driving her mad.

“Rachel,” he said in that way of his that made her name sound intimate. “You want to tell me what’s wrong? You’ve been in a foul mood since you woke up this morning, and I can’t understand it because you were fine after we came home last night.”

She rounded on him. “This is not your home. It’s my home.”

“I know that.” Harvard stared at her as though he could see right through her. “And I appreciate you allowing me to stay here for the duration.”

“That’s the thing; I didn’t allow it.” She threw up her hands in disgust. “You just moved in and took over. You’re everywhere.” She gestured around her living room.

“Not sure I understand what you mean,” he said. “I keep my belongings to the guest room. Everywhere else looks exactly as it did before I moved in.”

“It’s not. It’s all different.” Rachel stormed over to the fridge on the heels she hadn’t bothered to kick off, wishing the pencil skirt she wore wasn’t quite so tight so she could take bigger steps. Throwing open the fridge, she pointed inside. “There’s food in here,” she accused.

“Okay, I don’t see—”

She cut him off. “There was never any food in there before you moved in. It’s like I don’t even know my own fridge anymore. And