The Ruthless Caleb Wilde

“I said, I’m afraid your jacket is creased.”

“Oh. It’s nothing. Just—just forget about—” He took the jacket, laying it over the back of an upholstered chair that had seen better days. Dammit, why couldn’t he come up with a coherent sentence? “Uh, I’ll just wash up, if that’s okay.”

“Oh, of course. I’ll put on the coffee. Do you think the driver would want a cup? I could take it down to—”

“He has a thermos. Drivers from that company always—” He shook his head. Amazing. After all that had happened to her tonight, she could still think of someone else’s needs. “But I’ll tell him you thought of it,” he said. “He’ll be pleased.”

Somehow, he made it to the closet-sized bathroom.

Caleb turned on the cold water.

He had to get his head together.

Sage was a good-looking woman. Hell, she was beautiful. Bottom line. So what?

She lived in a bad location. Worked in one, too. But he wasn’t her protector. He wasn’t her guardian.

And he didn’t want a one-night stand with her, either.

She wasn’t the kind of woman meant for casual sex.

He cupped his hands under the water and splashed it over his face.

“A cup of coffee,” he told the mirror. “And then you’re out of here, dude.”

He opened the door. Went into the kitchen. Drank coffee. One cup. Fast, while she did the same thing, because yes, it really was time to put an end to this.

“Excellent coffee,” he told her, with a quick smile.

“I grind the beans myself,” she said, returning his smile.

“Well,” he said finally.

He stood up. She did, too. They walked to the door.

It wasn’t much of a door.

Hollow, not solid. No peep hole. A chain, but a chain on a door like this was like loading a gun with foam-rubber pellets.

It looked good, but it didn’t serve any purpose.

“You forgot something,” Sage said.

Caleb swung toward her. She held out his jacket.

“Thanks,” he said, and took it from her. He hesitated. “Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” she said quickly. Too quickly.

“Look, maybe you should call a friend. Maybe you shouldn’t be alone here tonight.”

“Really, I’ll be all right.”

Caleb looked at the sofa. It was ugly as sin and built for a doll house, but it had a big throw pillow at one end and a blanket folded over the back.

“Looks comfortable.”

She blushed. Why? Did she know what he was going to say? Because he knew, even before he got the words out.