Page 17 of The Agent

M ARLEY WOKE UP the next morning with a smile on her face and a naked man in her bed.

Caleb was sound asleep beside her, lying on his stomach with one strong arm flung over her belly.

Her smile widened. God, he was breathtaking.

His stubble-covered cheek rested against the pillow, his dark hair messy and falling onto his proud forehead.

And his face lost all of its hard edges in slumber. He looked peaceful, younger.

Trying not to wake him, she moved his arm and slid out of bed. Then she walked into the washroom, heading for the small shower stall. A jolt of pain hit her big toe.

“Shoot,” she muttered, noticing that one of the tiles was loose. Good thing she was planning on retiling after she finished painting.

She opened the glass door of the shower stall, and as she turned the faucet and adjusted the temperature, she realized she was actually pretty sore.

A slight ache between her legs, but one she was willing to overlook because last night had been totally worth it.

She stepped into the shower and dunked her head under the hot spray, then turned to let the water slide down her body.

Her muscles sighed with relief as the water pounded against them. She was on her feet nearly every day of the week and did yoga regularly, but one night with the talented Caleb Ford had completely wiped her out. It had never been like that with anyone, not even Patrick.

The smile on her face faded as the memory of the last man she’d been with pushed its way into her head and the implication of what she’d done settled over her.

Was she crazy? After what had happened with Patrick, she’d vowed to be more cautious, and yet she’d just slept with a man she’d known for less than a week.

She slowly lathered her skin with strawberry-scented body wash, forcing her mind to quit over analyzing. It was just sex. Really great sex. Wasn’t like she’d gotten engaged to the man.

Shutting off the faucet, she toweled off and left the bathroom, slipped into a pair of denim shorts and a red tank, and turned her attention to the man on the bed.

He was wide awake, and sporting a very familiar expression on his face.

The same shuttered stare he’d donned yesterday when he’d told her sleeping together wasn’t a good idea.

“I’m going to make some breakfast,” she announced. “Do you like pancakes?”

“I love them,” he said quietly.

“Good. They’ll be ready by the time you come down.”

She headed downstairs, trying to forget about how stiff his shoulders had looked. Maybe he simply wasn’t a morning person. Like her brother—Sam could be a total ass before he had his morning coffee.

When Caleb walked into the kitchen ten minutes later, his hair damp from the shower and his blue eyes alert, she handed him a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

“Thanks.” He took it gratefully, and sipped the hot liquid.

Marley moved back to the stove and flipped a pancake, wishing he wasn’t being so distant. It was easy to pick up on the waves of tension rolling off him. Finally she turned to him and asked, “Everything okay?”

He didn’t speak for a moment, just headed to the kitchen table and lowered his big body onto a chair. A line of indecision creased his forehead, and when he opened his mouth, she got the feeling she wouldn’t like what he said.

“I’m fine. Just tired,” he said with a shrug.

“Well, hopefully these will help.” She turned off the burner, then walked over to the table and placed a plate loaded with pancakes in front of him.

Almost instantly, his expression perked up. She suppressed a grin. Men and their stomachs.

He inhaled the delicious aroma of blueberries and buttermilk, and groaned. “You neglected to mention you could cook like this.”

“I only do breakfast,” she clarified as she sat across the table. “For some reason it’s all I can manage. Lunch and dinner? I’m lucky I haven’t burned down the kitchen yet.”

Caleb chuckled. “Thank God for that.”

She picked up her knife and fork and cut her pancake in half, then fourths, then eighths. She noticed Caleb watching her in amusement as she finally brought a bite-size piece to her lips.

“You cut it up in advance?” he said with a laugh.

She finished chewing and shot him an indignant look. “It’s all ready to eat that way. No wasting time after each bite.”

“You could always cut the next piece while you chew,” he pointed out.

“Don’t be a smart ass. Eat your breakfast.”

She was pleased to see him devour the pancakes. For some reason, she liked making him happy. She got the feeling Caleb wasn’t the kind of man who’d been served fluffy pancakes very often. There was an edge to him, something raw and vulnerable at times.

This morning, that edge seemed sharper than ever. He didn’t say much as he drank his coffee. His dark eyebrows were furrowed, and he looked as if some inner dilemma was tearing him up.

“You okay?” Marley asked again, as she poured a hefty amount of syrup on her second pancake.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Setting down his cup, Caleb stood. He grabbed his dish and headed for the sink, keeping his back to her as he rinsed his plate under the faucet.

“You don’t have to do that,” Marley called. “I’ll just shove everything into the dishwasher later.”

“I can’t not do the dishes after I eat,” he replied without turning around. “It’s a habit I picked up when I lived in one of my foster homes. My foster mom used to give me a quarter every time I cleaned up after myself.”

“That was sweet of her,” Marley remarked.

“Yeah, I guess it was. She was one of the nicer ones.” She heard the smile in his voice.

“She gave me this cracked yellow piggy bank to put the quarters into. I kept every quarter. I thought if I saved them all, I would have enough money to run away and be on my own.” His shoulders tensed.

“Not that it mattered. One of my foster brothers stole every last penny the night before he was transferred to another home.”

Her heart melted in her chest, sympathy for that lost little boy tightening her stomach. “Caleb…I’m sorry.”

She pushed away her plate and got up, walking over to him with purposeful strides.

His back stiffened at her approach. She knew he probably felt uncomfortable for revealing what was obviously a painful memory.

He’d looked and sounded the same way last night, when he’d told her about his mother’s death.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to depress you,” he remarked.

She rested her hand on his arm and stroked the curve of his bicep. “It’s okay to talk about things that hurt you,” she said. “I do it all the time.”

“I’m not great with talking about my feelings, or my past.” His voice sounded thick as he admitted what she already knew.

Still, it might have been one of the most honest sentences he’d ever spoken to her, and she rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him, a slow, deep kiss filled with gratitude and warmth.

He responded instantly, slipping his tongue between her parted lips and exploring her mouth with what felt almost like desperation.

Her heartbeat quickened. She wondered if every kiss she shared with Caleb would be like this.

The racing pulse, the damp palms, the melting of her body into his.

He placed his hand on the back of her head and drew her closer, teasing her with his mouth, his lips, his tongue.

The air in the kitchen felt charged, like the streak of arousal crackling through her blood.

“Marley?”

She and Caleb broke apart like a pair of teenagers caught necking in a parked car. She swiveled her head and saw her brother in the doorway.

“What the hell is going on here?” Sam asked, his gaze shifting from her to Caleb. “Who is he? ”

Marley found her voice. “ He is Caleb. My, um, neigh bor.”

Her brother strode to the middle of the room and eyed Caleb like a guard dog that had just discovered a burglar in the house.

Too bad Sam was more like a cocker spaniel than a rottweiler.

In his sky-blue surf shorts and white T-shirt, with his blond hair windswept as usual, her brother posed the least menacing picture Marley could conjure up.

“Do you always make out with your neighbors?” Sam demanded.

“Just the cute ones,” she replied.

Caleb snorted, then stuck out his hand. “I take it you’re Marley’s brother. It’s nice to meet you.”

Sam looked at Caleb’s outstretched hand warily, but the good manners their parents had instilled in them beat out his obvious desire to play the role of Angry Brother. He shook Caleb’s hand and said, “I’m Sam.” His eyes narrowed. “Why are you kissing my sister?”

Caleb looked so uncomfortable she took pity on him and said, “Because we’re seeing each other.”

Sam’s dark-blond eyebrows shot to his forehead. He glanced over at Marley. “Since when?”

“This week,” she admitted.

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“I don’t tell you everything.” Before Sam could continue the cross-examination, she said, “What are you doing here, anyway? Finally going to finish the hall closet?”

“Tomorrow. Dad’s barbecuing for lunch,” Sam said with a sigh. “He wants you to come.”

“He sent you all the way over here to invite me to lunch? You could have just called, you know.”

Sam shrugged. “I had to take measurements of the closet. I’m picking up some supplies before I come over tomorrow.” He shot her a pointed look. “I’m glad I came, otherwise I would have never known about your new boyfriend .”

Marley’s cheeks heated up. “When’s the barbecue?”

“In a couple of hours, but Dad wants you to come earlier. He has something to show you.”

Marley blanched. “Oh, God. Is it what I think it is?”

For the first time since he’d marched inside, Sam broke out a lopsided grin. “Sure is.”

Caleb shot her a quizzical look. “Do I get to be in the loop?”

She laughed. “Nope. Trust me, you have to see it to believe it.” To Sam, she said, “Can you call Dad and tell him to expect a guest?”