Rush

“He had a trip planned that I didn’t know about,” I offer to appease her curiosity.

“So, you’re staying with his friend?” She sighs. “What’s he like?”

“Case is nothing like Drake,” I say quietly.

“I want more than his name, Em. Is he hot?”

“Very,” I confess. “Tall, gorgeous, think surfer type with a corporate vibe.”

“Send me a pic,” she whines.

“I can’t take a picture of him.” I laugh softly. “Do you expect me to ask him to pose for it? How creepy would that be?”

“That’s not creepy. It would be creepy if you asked him to get naked first.”

I drop my gaze to the floor. “If I had a naked picture of Case, I sure as hell wouldn’t be sharing it with anyone.”

‘That’s reassuring.”

The sound of Case’s voice behind me almost drops the phone from my grasp.

“I need to go,” I mumble to Sandy before I end the call.

My face heats red as I turn to face him.

The clothes he was wearing at the bar are gone. He’s dressed in faded jeans and a black T-shirt.

I look down out of a desperate need to catch my breath. “It’s not how it sounded.”

He takes a step closer to where I’m standing. “Unless you know another man named Case, it sounded like you’d protect my privacy if you ever happened to get your hands on a picture of me in the raw.”

I raise my chin so I can look him in the eye, but my gaze sticks on his biceps, and the way the material of his shirt is stretched taut across his chest.

Dammit, he’s a perfect twelve on a scale of one-to-ten.

“Just so you know.” His arms cross over that muscular chest of his. “I’d do the same for you, Emma.”

A shiver runs down my spine when he rakes me from head-to-toe.

Should I thank him for that, or should I try to explain myself?

Before I have a chance to do either, his phone starts ringing. Tugging it out of the back pocket of his jeans, he silences it after glancing at the screen. “This is important. I need to go.”

“See you later,” I say as I watch him head out of the apartment before the door shuts behind him with a loud thud.

Chapter 12

Case

I heave out a sigh as I come down from the high of a much-needed orgasm.

Resting my forehead against the wall of the shower, I close my eyes to ward off the images that have owned my thoughts since I woke up.

The moment I joked with Emma about a nude picture of her, the wonder of what that might look like took over my life.

I left the apartment last night after our brief exchange because I craved fresh air.

I ended up on the sidewalk outside the building talking to my assistant in California. He ran through a litany of issues that he needed my help with, and then I blew him off.

I used the convenient excuse of jet lag to get me out of the conversation.

By the time I went back up to my apartment, Emma was in the guestroom, softly singing. I stood outside the door and listened. Every note was off-key, but I didn’t find it irritating. It was charming in a way that makes no sense to me.

I tilt my head up to let the warm water slide over me. I need to get out of the shower and dry off since I have a meeting in less than an hour.

I bump my fist against the panel in front of me but miss the mark.

The water stops, but a sudden burst of steam envelops me.

This smart shower is another of Drake’s not-so-brilliant ideas. When he had this prototype installed, he boasted that he could turn it on with an app on his phone.

I laughed because I never anticipated that I’d have to experience it in person. Slapping my hand against the panel again, the steam clears.

I’d use the other bathroom and its straightforward shower handle that controls flow and temperature, but that’s reserved for my guest.

I grab a towel and dry myself.

A swipe of my hand across the steam-covered mirror reveals an unshaven face.

I haven’t skipped a morning shave since I moved to California.

It’s just one of the routines that keep my life in order.

I make a mental note to pick up a razor on my way to the office.

As soon as I’ve opened the door and taken a step into my bedroom, the sound of Emma singing hits me again.

It’s the same song she was belting out last night, but this morning it’s muffled by the sound of water running.

If I get my ass in gear, I might catch a glimpse of her crossing the hallway from the bathroom to the guestroom.

One step toward the door of my bedroom is as far as I get.

I look down at my body and the towel around my waist.