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And I have no interest in being alone now.
He jumped up. Two flights of stairs later, he was at a guest room door. He knew Mia would give Nicola this one with its fancy private bathroom. Jared would get the other with the same layout. The rest of the grunts could share the hallway bathrooms.
The sound of footsteps padding on the carpet caught his attention. He looked over his shoulder to see tiny Mia with her big pregnant belly smiling as if she knew what clamored around in his head. She was a therapist, after all, so maybe she understood this maze of emotion.
She nodded toward Nicola’s door. “Are you going to knock?”
That was the question, all right. He hadn’t mapped out what he’d say. Or if he’d knock. A compulsion had brought him to her door, but it hadn’t clued him in on the next steps. “Not sure.”
“I think you should.”
“You don’t know—”
“I know enough, being that I’m a military therapist. Jared has no problem bouncing concerns off me.”
Cash laughed. Mia Winters might be the only woman in the world who would square off against Jared. It happened a lot, even more now with her crazy hormones, though he’d never say that to her face. Watching Mia take on Jared was better than watching a Saturday night barroom brawl. And Mia won almost every time. She was the odds-on favorite.
“Oh, I moved your stuff to the room next door. Adjoining doors, by the way.” Mia winked.
He choked when he tried to swallow and didn’t know what to say. There was no way he’d sleep tonight. He’d been sweating another night under the same roof as Nicola. Now one flimsy door separated him from her bed. No way. No how. He wasn’t going to survive the night knowing she slept mere feet away.
What would she wear to bed?
Time to find out.
Knock. Knock.
No answer.
Cash wasn’t going to let her ignore him, especially not when her clothing options, or maybe lack of, were on his mind. He knocked again. No answer. Cash turned the knob and walked in.
Nicola emerged from her bathroom in a cloud of steam with a tiny towel wrapped around her chest that barely reached her thighs. Her cheeks were fresh and rosy, and her blonde hair dark and shower-wet. He choked, again, and whatever he wanted to say dissolved into the steamy air. She looked like a heaven-sent angel.
“Cash!”
“Sorry.” He put his hands up in surrender, but didn’t retreat, freezing in place, mesmerized by long legs and a scrunched-up, pissed-off face. The scent of lavender filled the room.
He lowered his hands. “Can we chat?”
“I’m in a towel.”
“Don’t I know it, darlin’.” She clung tighter to the towel, as if Cash could will it off of her.
“I need to get dressed. Get out of here.” She tried to shoo him away without releasing her grip on the towel.
“Or I could get undressed. Even things out.”Whoops, probably not the right thing to say.He tilted his head, praying for her grin, knowing damn well he’d shed his gym threads quicker than she could say, “go ahead.”
She smiled and gave a tame laugh that said he wasn’t a dead man.Thank God.“What do you want?”
“You. Nicola Garrison.”
Her hesitant smile faded, but her warm eyes spoke with a fire and sparkle. She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t give him anything to work with other than the brightness in her glare.
“Stop with the last name.”
“No.”
“I don’t want to be just another notch in your belt. I’m not one of your many conquests.” She smirked, and he made a mental note to give Rocco another round of hell for telling tales. Maybe this honesty bullshit would be the only way to figure things out.