—Paige
JAKE RIPPED OFF his jacket and flung it across the bed.
How had he got himself pulled into that conversation? How? He’d dropped his guard for a moment, that was all, and Paige had sneaked under it with her baby blues and disarming honesty.
Beyond his windows, lightning split the night sky but all he could think of was Paige apologizing for “misreading” a situation she’d read perfectly.
He should have shut her right down. Instead, he’d dished out some honesty himself. Way too much honesty.
There was a hammering at his door, and he swore under his breath, knowing it meant only one thing.
He dragged it open, ready with his excuses.
Paige stood there, her dark hair wet from the rain and her eyelashes gleaming with raindrops.
Jake stared at her as if she were a drug he shouldn’t touch, torn between slamming the door between them and hauling her inside. Before he could make his choice she stalked past him into the apartment.
Shit.
His brain and reflexes functioning in slow motion, he closed the door and turned to look at her.
He didn’t know what it was about her that sent his senses into overdrive, but he knew he needed to get her out of his apartment.
Failing that, he had to get himself out of his apartment.
Being in the same space wasn’t a good thing.
Especially when she was all fired up and hot. And one glance at the tilt of her chin and the stormy blue eyes told him she was steaming mad.
In this mood, she was dangerous and quite capable of doing things she’d regret later.
She was still wearing heels and the Urban Genie shirt, which told him she’d come straight from the venue.
He should have triple-bolted the door and set a thousand alarms. “How did you get past the doorman?”
“I smiled at him.”
He could have fired the guy, except that he had some appreciation of the power of Paige’s smile.
He noticed she wasn’t smiling now.
“It’s a filthy night. You should be at home.”
“There are things I need to say.”
He was pretty sure it was going to be nothing he wanted to hear. “Paige, it’s late and—”
“Since when did that bother you? You’re not a sleeper. Neither am I.”
Right now he was willing to be anything to get her out of his apartment. “You’re wet.”
“Then I’m better off in your apartment out of the rain.” She flung her handbag down on the nearest chair and slid off her heels. “Do you know what drives me crazy?”
He opened his mouth to answer, and then realized she wasn’t expecting a response.
This was a monologue and he was expected to listen so he closed his mouth and decided to wait out the storm. The one inside his apartment, not outside. He watched warily as she paced over to the wall of glass that gave him a view over Downtown Manhattan.
“Being protected.” She turned. “Being protected drives me crazy. I thought you knew that.”