Page 238 of Things We Left Behind

Those green eyes rolled to the ceiling. “Oh, please,” she muttered.

“Especially if it stops you from whining,” I added, dropping a lightning-­quick kiss on the tip of her nose.

The corners of those red lips curved up.

“We’re going out for dinner,” I announced as we entered my condo after a long afternoon. “Can you be ready in an hour?”

Sloane had spent most of the day complaining, first about her workstation being in my office, then about me refusing to let her out of my sight in a city where “probably no one”wanted to murder her. But I’d held firm. Until my investigators or Nash’s found the person responsible, I wasn’t leaving her side.

After an unnecessarily loud coffee catch-­up with Lina, Petula, and Holly in my office while I’d stupidly attempted to take care of actual business, she’d finally settled in and gotten to work creating a priority list of services the library could continue to offer even without a physical location. We’d managed to work surprisingly well together in the shared space. Her energy was infectious, and I found myself tackling my own to-­do list with more enthusiasm than usual.

“It better be some place with a drive-­thru, because I only packed jeans and sweats,” she said, toeing off her sneakers and stripping her shirt off to reveal a sexy lace camisole that was working valiantly to contain her impressive breasts.

“What are you doing?” I demanded as my mouth went dry. The need to touch her was driving me mad.

“This is what actual humans do when they come home from work.”

I picked up the shirt she’d discarded and folded it. “They strip naked in their foyer?”

“They put on comfy clothes,” she instructed, eyeing my suit with what felt like judgment.

“I’m perfectly comfortable as I am. Besides, it would be a waste of time to change now when I’d just have to change back into a suit for dinner.”

She shook her head, which sent her hair dancing over her shoulder. “Sad. Just plain sad.”

I watched her disappear into the kitchen, wondering what was happening to my face. When I realized it was a smile, I shook it off, loosened my tie, and turned my attention to the mail on the foyer table.

Sloane reappeared, looking suspicious. “Why is there root beer and junk food in here?” She was holding a bottle of soda in one hand and an already open bag of potato chips in the other.

“I just told you we’re going to dinner, and you make yourself a snack?”

She crunched into a chip with enthusiasm. “Dinner’s a whole hour away. And what if the restaurant’s busy or we don’t order an appetizer? That’s serious hangry territory. I’m doing you a favor.”

She was insufferably adorable. Fucking beautiful. And excruciatingly untouchable. My nerves were fraying at an alarming rate now that I had her to myself.

The doorbell rang, and I sprang for it.

“Are you expecting someone?” Sloane asked warily.

“As a matter of fact, I am.”

She muttered something that sounded like “It better not be the astrophysicist.”

I was still smiling stupidly when I opened the door.

Grace, my head of security, strolled inside, pulling a dress rack behind her. “These just arrived. For the record, I’m a fan of the red,” she said.

Sloane looked at me and frowned. “I take it there’s no drive-­thru?”

“No drive-­thru. But my mother will be there.”

Her eyes widened. “Interesting. Grace, you have impeccable taste. Got any shoes on this magic rack of fashion?”

“If the food here is too snooty, you’re definitely taking me for a burger afterward,” Sloane said as I towed her through the restaurant. It was one of those fine dining venues with muted neutrals and small, artfully arranged portions of gourmet specialties.

More than a few sets of eyes followed us to our table, though I was certain the attention was equally divided between my scowling visage and Sloane, who looked like a breathtaking, curvy goddess in the red dress.

I didn’t like parading her out in public when there was still a threat at large, but it was the most efficient way to spread the word. Sloane Walton was under my protection.