Slashed (Extreme Risk 3)

“You’re not going to be comfortable here.”

She looked around. “I think I could be very comfortable here.” She gave a nod. “This is a gorgeous place to live. Nice view, too.” In the distance Lake Michigan was a haze of blue.

“Fuck,” Duncan muttered again.

Marc reappeared, now fully dressed, sadly. Although he still looked amazeballs hot with clothes on. “Sorry about that. Didn’t know you were here, uh, Lovey.”

She beamed at him. “No problem. Duncan was more freaked out than I was.”

Duncan rolled his eyes.

Lovey studied Marc in his clothes—low-rise faded jeans that had to be specially made to fit loosely over those massive thighs, and a long-sleeve black T-shirt. She let out another brief sigh.

He moved to perch on one of the stools at the big island, then stopped as he took in the mess in the kitchen. With a head shake, he began to clean up, tossing cold pizza into the trash, loading empty beer bottles into cartons. “This place is a barn.”

Duncan shrugged and leaned back. “You knew that when you moved in. Don’t get all pissy. You don’t have to clean up.”

“I know, I know.” Marc stacked empty pizza boxes into a blue recycling box. “Just can’t stand the fucking mess.”

Duncan grinned. “That’s your problem.”

Lovey looked back and forth between them. Duncan was a slob, no doubt about it. Mom had pulled her hair out trying to teach him to clean up after himself. Apparently none of it had sunk in. Marc, on the other hand…had apparently learned well. Or maybe he was just a neat freak.

Nothing wrong with that. Not at all.

Especially when he looked that good doing it.

“Okay, back to the topic at hand,” Duncan said. “You can’t stay here.”

Still watching Marc, Lovey saw his head snap up.

“I have to stay here, Dunc. Where else am I going to go?”

He cursed under his breath. “But I told you, there’s nowhere for you to sleep.”

“Uh…she can have my bed,” Marc offered.

Lovey beamed at him. “That’s so sweet of you.”

“She can’t have your fucking bed,” Duncan snapped. “Where the hell are you going to sleep?”

Marc shrugged. “Couch?”

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” Duncan gave a gusty sigh. “One night. One night only. You have to stay in a hotel or something, Lovey.”

“I can’t afford a hotel!” She gaped at him. “D’you think my last job paid me multi-millions of dollars like yours does?”

“Quit throwing my money in my face.” He slumped into the couch with a scowl.

“I’m not throwing it in your face.” She blinked. “I’m just pointing out what should be obvious…my marketing job for Kleinheinz Cheese did not pay me enough for me to be able to afford to stay in a pricey Chicago hotel indefinitely.”

“You have enough to rent an apartment, don’t you?” He narrowed his eyes at her.

“Um…I have a little money. I sold my car.”

“Lovey…”

“Duncan.”