Twelve minutes later, she pulled the first sheet tray out of the oven. Instead of setting it on the stovetop, she took it to the bottom of the stairs and waved the aroma upward as if that would do the trick and get him to come down.
Another twelve minutes passed, and another batch of cookies came out of the oven. Lexie deemed twenty-four cookies enough for two people and turned off the oven. Leaving the leftover cookie dough—another delicacy according to Jason—on the counter, she piled six cookies on a plate and poured a tall glass of milk.
If he wouldn’t come downstairs, she’d go up.
Sixty seconds later, her heart beat wildly in her chest, and not just from her march up the seventeen steps. She really needed to get going on an exercise routine. She took a deep breath and balanced the plate of cookies on the forearm of the hand holding the milk. With her now-free hand, she banged on the door.
But the motion was too much for the plate, and gravity tipped it toward the outside of her arm. Everything happened so fast, and she wasn’t sure exactly which order things went down. No matter what, all the cookies landed on the floor. Milk splashed her hand. And Jason opened the door.
He wore only his pants, a fact that almost sent Lexie to her knees too. “Do you know what time it is?” he asked, his voice in the lower register, as if he’d actually been asleep.
She scrambled to pick up the cookies—and keep her eyes off his naked upper half. “I baked you cookies,” she said, standing and presenting him with the treat.
“Those have been on the floor.” He chin-nodded to the cookies like they were now infested with maggots.
“Ten second rule.”
“It’s almost midnight.” So he was going to play it the hard way.
“You don’t sleep,” she shot back.
“Well, I don’t eat sugar at midnight.” He clenched his jaw as if trying to keep the saliva inside.
And with a torso and chest like the one in front of her, she believed him. The fight went out of her. “I wanted to say…I needed to apologize. What I said to you on the deck was mean. I shouldn’t have said it.” She picked up a cookie and took a bite without removing her gaze from him. “Mm.”
His whole body sighed, and he said, “Let me put on my shirt,” before dropping back into the shadowy recesses of his room. A few seconds later, he came all the way into the hall, pulling the door closed behind him as if he had a room full of personal items he didn’t want her to see.
“You baked these?”
“My grandmother’s recipe.” They moved into the loft, and Jason sank into the sofa with a soft groan. Lexie settled next to him, facing him, her knees tucked under her body, and offered him the cookies. He took one from the plate and dusted it off as if her carpet was full of lint.
Lexie rolled her eyes. “Do you accept my apology?”
“I haven’t even had one bite yet.” His eyes—dark and dreamy and dangerous—locked onto hers and he lifted the cookie to his lips. He took a bite and let his eyes drift closed as if in bliss. He chewed and nodded. After swallowing, he said, “Apology accepted.”
He finished the cookie and ate another before he ran his hands through his hair, making it stand up a little on the top.
“You were wrong, you know,” Lexie said, wanting to be with him just a little longer.
“I’m sure you’ll tell me all about it.” His words could’ve cut, but he delivered them with a flirtatious smirk that kept the sting from settling in too deep.
“My bodyguard wasn’t my fiancé.”
Interest lit up his face. “Oh?”
“He was a temporary bodyguard until I could find my own. He really worked for Derrick Lancaster, and he’s who I started dating.”
“And got engaged to.” He folded his arms. “Six months after we’d broken up.” Hurt flashed across his face, and while Lexie didn’t like it, the emotion did testify to her that Jason was human. Jason had feelings. Perhaps Jason hadn’t gotten over her very quickly, the way she hadn’t gotten over him for months and months.
She didn’t want to tell him that her new relationship and association with a very wealthy, New York City family, had helped the story of her torrid love affair with the bartender go away faster. Jason had never been a problem for Lexie.
“My dad….” She let the words hang there, because Jason would get them.
“Yeah.” He leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. “Family relationships are tough.”
Lexie leaned her elbow in to the back of the couch and rested her head in her hands. “Do you talk to your brothers?”
He shook his head, his lips pressing tight for a moment. “Not often.”
She wanted to reach out and brush that lock of hair off his forehead, trace her fingertips along his earlobe. Such intimate gestures offered support, comfort, and he needed it right now. So she extended her hand, and lightly touched his hair, causing his eyes to fly open. As she ran her fingers over his ear, he turned his head toward her, and their eyes locked.
“Sorry about your brothers,” she said.
“It’s time for me to be a real adult,” he said, the awkwardness between them gone. “I know that. I just don’t know what I want to do with my life.”
“I’m guessing it’s not valeting.”
“Sterling seems to have made a living doing it.” Jason looked away, his eyes settling somewhere else in the loft. “I don’t know. I feel like I’m…drifting, and I don’t know where I’ll end up.”
She traced her fingers down his bicep and he uncrossed his arms so he could receive her hand. “You’ve always been a drifter, Jason. It’s part of your charm.” She gave him a small smile when he looked at her again.
“I have charm?”
“Loads of it.” She twisted so her feet were off the front of the couch and snuggled into his side. A few minutes passed while she thought through the events of the past couple of days. Jason’s breathing evened and slowed, but Lexie asked, “Do you really think Victor is violent?” anyway.
“I don’t know, sweetheart.” He squeezed her fingers. “Better safe than sorry, right?”
Sweetheart.
Lexie basked in the sunshine streaming from the word. She closed her eyes too, her fantasies about opening a closed door and letting Jason back into her life playing in full color. The next time she opened her eyes, the sun was just starting to light another day, and Jason still slept beside her.
Lexie took the opportunity to absorb the handsomeness of his face without any tension or emotion in it. He looked peaceful and beautiful, and she focused on his mouth. She’d kissed that mouth when he was awake, and she’d kissed him awake too. Could she do it again?
She hadn’t moved. Well, maybe her eyelids. So when Jason said, “I can feel you staring at me,” she broke into laughter and lightly swatted at his chest. He cracked one eyelid and smiled as he flinched from her touch.
“I was going to kiss you,” she said. “And you ruined it.”
That got him to open his eyes, but Lexie was already pushing herself off the couch. He grabbed her hand so she couldn’t leave. “Is that part of the job? Kissing?”
She leaned forward, encouraged and a bit scared by the hopeful glint in his eye. “Definitely not,” she said. “Don’t confuse your B-words, Mister Burnes.” She moved away from him, and he let her hand go. “And get up and get ready. We’ve got to go buy you a couple of suits today. Nice ones.”
He groaned but he stood up too. “They won’t even be open until at least ten.”
“Great.” She flashed him a smile before starting down the steps and calling back, “You have time to make me breakfast. That is part of the job.”
He said something, but she didn’t catch what because her giggles had returned in full force.
Chapter Eight
Jason fiddled with the buttons on the jacket, not understanding how this suit was any different than the previous three he’d put on. He was beginning to think Lexie and the three—yes, three—saleswom
en waiting outside the dressing room were simply enjoying the fashion show.
Sure enough, when he opened the door and exited the fitting area, he found all four women sitting on the chairs there. If they had popcorn, it would be a real show.
“Turn,” Lexie commanded, and Jason glared at her before complying. Women must not know how keen a man’s hearing was, because he could plainly make out, “Yeah, that’s nice across the shoulders,” and “Too bad he’s wearing that jacket at all.”
Jason looked over his shoulder and said, “I can hear you.”
Two of the saleswomen jumped up, and one waggled her fingers at Jason like he’d be interested in getting her number later.
Lexie got up too and approached, pulling on his sleeves and brushing her hands down the front of the jacket. He held very still, trying to figure out how he’d gotten to this point in his life. How he’d gone from watching Lexie from a thirty-yard distance to holding her hand and sleeping over at her house.
“I like this one,” she said.
“Hallelujah.” He used no inflection in his voice. They’d been shopping for almost two hours, and he’d lost patience after ten minutes. “Can we go to lunch now?”
Yes, he’d made breakfast, but it was scrambled eggs and toast, five hours ago, and while he didn’t sleep much—except for last night. Last night, he’d fallen asleep with Lexie and stayed asleep all night long—he did eat. Never skipped meals. And his stomach growled to prove it.
“Yes, we can go to lunch now, you big baby.” She grinned up at him, and it seemed natural for her to tip up on her toes and meet his mouth with hers. The moment lengthened, and neither of them moved.
“So this one and the black one?” The remaining saleswoman broke the connection between them, and Jason fell back a step, clearing his throat as he did.
“Yes,” Lexie said. “My card is on file.”
“I can buy the suits,” he said.
“Nope.” Lexie nodded at the saleswoman and waited for her to walk away. “You wouldn’t need them if not for me. I’m paying.” She gave him a look that dared him to argue.
“Fine.” He returned to the dressing room to put on his own clothes, not wanting to argue over trivial things. With Lexie, there were some hills worth dying on. Her buying him two suits so he could be her bodyguard wasn’t one of them.
Lunch, however, was.
He pulled on his shirt and adjusted the hem as he walked out, patting his back pocket to make sure he still had his wallet. Just because Lexie was loaded didn’t mean she was going to pay for his food. In fact, he’d like to pay for hers, make this more of a date than an employee thing.
But she wasn’t standing where he’d left her. Nor at the register. Panic started to build in his stomach, but he kept it dormant as he scanned the department store. The woman who’d been helping them stood behind the counter, and he approached her. “Hey, did you see where the woman I was with went?”
“Someone came over and started talking to her. I didn’t see where they went.” She indicated his suit. “Do you want this? I’ll get the other one wrapped for you.”
“Can you hold them for a minute?” He turned without waiting for her to answer. He yanked his phone out of his pocket and dialed Lexie, muttering, “Come on, Lex. Pick up.”
She didn’t pick up, and as the call went to voicemail, Jason jogged out from between the racks of clothes that were seriously hindering his eyesight. His mind ran in a thousand directions, to how long he’d been in the dressing room changing, to if he’d heard her call for help, to praying to know which way to go.
To his left was the shoe department—and no way out. If someone had taken her, they wouldn’t go that way, at least if they were smart at all. So he turned right and ran down the aisle, scanning, looking, searching for Lexie’s dark hair and bright purple blouse.
Thankful he’d paid attention to her wardrobe that morning, he caught a flash of the bright color near the wide entrance to the store. He dashed that way, realizing it was Lexie and she was speaking to another woman. Not Victor. Didn’t look threatening.
He slowed and covered the last few feet at a walk, interrupting the conversation by stepping directly to Lexie’s side and whispering, “You couldn’t have texted me?”
She glanced up into his face, surprise on hers, which melted into realization and then sorrow. “Oh, Jason, I’m so sorry.” She looked at the other woman, another brunette, and Jason looked at her too. She looked somewhat familiar, and he knew he’d probably parked her car a time or two at Sweet Breeze. Jason might not remember every name he encountered, but he never forgot a face.
“This is Gabi Rossi. She’s an old friend.”
“An old friend?” Jason took a protective half-step in front of Lexie and scanned the vast expanse of mall he could see as if expecting an attack at any moment.
Gabi simply blinked at him, and Jason realized he was acting like a bulldog not a bodyguard. Lexie knew it too, because she put her hand on Jason’s arm and nudged him back again.
“I’ve had a bit of trouble,” she explained to Gabi, making her voice light and airy and so false Jason was sure her friend wouldn’t buy a single thing Lexie said. “Jason’s my new bodyguard, and well, as you can see, he’s a bit enthusiastic.”
Enthusiastic? She’d left the area where they were without telling him, and she hadn’t picked up her phone when he called. But he ground his teeth together and said nothing. Bodyguards were supposed to blend in, be overlooked, go unnoticed.
So he moved back, wishing he was wearing one of those fancy suits right now so he looked the part a little better. He stayed out of the way until they finished talking, then she returned to him and they went back to the register in silence. He accepted the suits from the clerk, and when they finally exited the mall to sunshine and an almost-summer breeze, she said, “I’m sorry, Jason.”
It was the third time she’d apologized to him in the last twenty-four hours, and he forgave her instantly. “All you had to do was text.”
“I didn’t even think of it.”
He opened the back door of her car and hung his suits on the hook above the window. “Gotta start thinking about it, sweetheart. I’m not just arm candy.” He held out his hand for the keys, and her eyebrows went up.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m starving,” he said. “So I’m taking us to lunch, and I want it to be a surprise.”
Lexie didn’t like surprises. Sure, she’d allowed them in the past, but usually only on her birthday or another super special occasion. Which lunch was not. She didn’t make a move to dig in her purse to find her keys and pass them over to him.
“Come on, Lexie. If we stand here much longer, I’m going to start gnawing on your arm.”
“My chicken arms?” She gave him a coy smile.
“I only said that once,” he said. “And you do have skinny arms. It’s a fact.”
“Sometimes facts don’t need to be stated explicitly, especially when it’s your girlfriend, and she’s already self-conscious about her arms.” She cocked her head as if to say So there.
All he could hear was girlfriend. Endlessly, it reverberated inside his head, even when her mouth moved and she said something else. Only when she slapped the sharp, metal keys into his palm did he snap out of the trance.
“Fine,” she said. “But just because I live in Hawaii doesn’t mean I want to eat seafood all the time.” She marched around the front of the car and practically ripped the door off its hinges.
Jason leaned against his door, facing her. “And no red meat, right? You’re still doing that?”
“That is a normal thing,” she said.
Jason disagreed, but he didn’t feel like the time was right to argue his point.
“Are you going to get in?” she asked. “I don’t want to roast in there.”
He opened his door with a grin and got behind the wheel, started the car, and turned the air conditioning up all the way just as Lexie straig
htened her shorts and buckled her seat belt. “I’d like somewhere with a great Cobb salad,” she said. “Please.”
“Which is exactly why I’m driving.”
“Jason.” He loved the hint of whine in her voice, loved hearing his name come out of her mouth, and loved that he’d somehow wiggled his way back into her life. Now he just needed to figure out how to keep her there.
Ten minutes later, he pulled to a stop in front of a little bistro that had just opened up six weeks ago. He felt sure Lexie wouldn’t have been here yet, and he’d actually seen a Cobb salad on their menu. He also happened to like the angus sliders and the shrimp pasta primavera, so he was already chalking this lunch up to be a win.
“Bora’s?” Lexie leaned forward to read the sign. “What is this place?”
“Come try it,” he said. “It’s great.”
“You’ve eaten here?”
He didn’t want to tell her that he’d been sampling a lot of places on the island since he’d decided to stay. He had money from his previous job, and he’d become friends with Tyler, who didn’t have a job at all. While his wife taught beach yoga, sometimes Tyler and Jason went to lunch. It wasn’t a crime.
“Yes,” he said simply. “And they have a Cobb salad.”
That got her out of the car, and Jason held the door open for her so she could enter the bistro first. It wasn’t busy—it never was—and they sat and ordered within a couple of minutes.
He reached across the table and took her hands in his, feeling brave but also out of sorts. “I think I need more rules,” he said, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand.
“Oh, yeah? About what?”
“About…us. Like, am I on duty right now? Can’t hold your hand? Can’t, oh, I don’t know, kiss you after our lunch date?” He watched her, needing to see her reaction so he could judge how fast or slow he needed to go.
“I don’t know, Jason.” She gently pulled her hands back and unwrapped a straw.
“What don’t you know?” Because there were a few obvious things to him.
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