Page 22 of Dirty Husband

My head goes to Shepard.

My thighs clench.

"Mr. Marlow sent me the news." He motions to the car behind him. Not the limo from last night. An expensive sports car. The kind of toy that screams Shep. "Would you like a ride home?"

"Home?"

"Or you can offer us the key. I have a team ready to pack your things and move them into Mr. Marlow's penthouse. They're ready to remake your room." He opens the door for me. "There's already a room furnished. But, to be honest—" He looks over my outfit. "It's not your style."

"My style?"

"You're a beautiful woman, Ms. Lee. And a modern one. Mr. Marlow… he had a different idea about the spare room."

I raise a brow.

Lock's laugh is hearty. Full-bodied. "He doesn't know you as well as he thinks, does he?"

"Are you allowed to say that?"

He runs an invisible zipper over his lips. "I have an idea." He offers his hand.

I take it.

Lock takes my coat. He walks me around the car. Lets me into the passenger seat. "Tell me what you'd like in your room and I'll take you somewhere you can find it."

"What if I'd like to go to Ikea?"

He clinches my seatbelt, closes the door, gets into the car on his side. "Ms. Lee, I enjoy your company already, but I won't allow you to bring Ikea into our home."

"You have something against the Swedes?"

"God forbid, you want to go there and eat some of those awful meatballs."

"They're better than they look."

"Thank God I'm a vegetarian." He shakes his head.

"They have veggie meatballs."

Mock horror streaks his expression. "Ms. Lee, please, spare me this pain. Tell me you don't want an Ikea Modern style." He says the words with an eye roll in his voice.

I can't help but laugh. Yes, he works for Shep, but he's funny. Warm. Kind. And, as the manager of Shep's personal life… I guess he works for me too. Or he will soon. "Do you have something else in mind?"

"Of course, love." He turns the key, bringing the car to life.

Damn, it has a kick. It's been a long time since I've been in the front seat of a car. Longer since I've driven. I always take the subway. Unless I'm running late or traveling when the train schedule is a crawl.

"If you're not sure, I know just the place. Totally you."

"How do you know it's me?"

"Trust me. I have a feel for these things."

* * *

We head straightto a furniture store in midtown. I've never heard of it. Never seen it before. But it's perfect. Just my style.

I pick out a bed, a desk, a dresser. Frames to hold posters I haven't bought yet.