Completely (New York 3)

He sank even deeper into his chair, sipping his coffee and jiggling his ankle on his knee like a child. His sandals were ridiculous. He didn’t even have a proper jacket.

There was no way on earth Rosemary intended to let this man out of her sight until she’d seen him safely home.

“So let me make sure I’ve got this straight.” He set his cup down, planted his elbows on the table, and leaned close enough that she could smell the coffee on his breath.

When he grinned, his eyes bright with amusement, Rosemary wanted to smack him for having the power to warm her fanny while being actively obtuse, childish, and irritating.

She wanted to find him repulsive.

Instead, she dropped into a slow-motion replay of his dark eyes on her in the flickering light of the bedside lamp as she rode him. The heat and the smell of their bodies. The strength in his hands.

His mouth.

“My plan is terrible,” he said.

“Yes.”

His mouth was mere inches away. What would it matter if she kissed him here, halfway around the world from anyone who could possibly care?

“But you’re going to rescue me,” he said.

“I don’t know that I’d put it in those exact terms.”

“You’re going to buy me plane tickets, feed me, pay for my hotel room, make sure I’ve got warm clothes and good shoes, keep an eye on me so I don’t get into trouble, and deliver me to my mom’s doorstep in one piece. Is that about right?”

“More or less.”

The gap between his front teeth showed when he smirked at her. It made her feel as though she were sitting atop a small boulder of uncomfortably warm, wet lust.

“My only question is, what am I gonna have to give you in return?”

Heat spread up the sides of her neck, her nape prickling. The man was a devil. The worst sort of devil. Rakish, provoking, confounding…

He made her feel alive.

Rosemary smiled and told him, “I’ll let you know.”

Chapter 6

Kathmandu was crowded and dusty.

Nothing new there.

Kal stood at the edge of the street, waiting while Rosemary shopped at a textile stall. “What do you think of these?” She held up a pair of loose pants in a bright, colorful pattern.

“For what?”

“For you. You need a change of clothes.”

“The clothes I have are fine.”

“They’re filthy.”

“Sure. Okay.”

“It’s okay that they’re filthy?”

“No, I mean, the pants are okay. The new ones. Whatever.”