All He Really Needs(4)

Dalton nodded. “Take your time.”

Griffin crossed the bedroom, made a quick detour through the closet to change clothes and grabbed his keys before heading for the bathroom. Sydney had the hot water cranked all the way up, and steam churned out of the glass-brick shower. The wavy glass distorted the killer curves she normally kept hidden beneath conservative clothes. She wasn’t the kind of woman who showed off her body, but she didn’t seem to mind being naked, either. He loved watching her shower. Unfortunately, this time it couldn’t end with them going back to bed.

Still he couldn’t resist propping his shoulder against the doorway of the walk-in shower and enjoying the open sensuality of her movements and the heavy, relaxed, deep breaths she took as she scraped her nails over her scalp. She gave her hair a final rinse and turned off the faucet, reaching for a towel.

As she dabbed the towel over her face, she realized he was watching, and her lips tipped upward in a smile. “Stop it. You know I have to get to work.”

“I know.”

She wrapped the towel around her chest, tucking the corner in to secure it, and then grabbed a second towel off the rack before edging past him into the bathroom proper.

Even though her smile was relaxed and her words teasing, there was something guarded in her expression. But maybe that was to be expected. She’d made it clear when they first got involved that this was a just-sex kind of relationship. Nothing more. Which was perfect because he was a nothing-more kinda guy.

Still, leaving before his girl even got out of the shower was a little harsh, even for a nothing-more kinda guy.

She bent over at the waist to wrap her shoulder-length auburn hair into one of those turban things only women seemed to be able to manage, then straightened, frowning. “What’s up?”

He fished a house key out of his pocket and set it on the bathroom counter beside the contact case and tiny toiletry bag she carried in her purse. “I have to head out. Lock up when you leave?”

Her frown deepened. “Wait. I don’t want… I mean, why…”

He didn’t give her more time to protest but gave her a quick peck on the lips. “Don’t worry. You can give it back to me the next time you see me. Stay as long as you want. There are muffins or you can find something in fridge. Marcella always leaves stuff like that.”

“But…” she tried to protest again.

He pretended to misunderstand. There was no point in her getting upset before he knew what Dalton wanted. “Text me later tonight and let me know what your plans are.”

She caught up with him just shy of the bedroom door and stopped him with a hand to the arm and an unwavering stare. “What’s going on?”

Her stare did him in. Something about her warm brown eyes made it impossible for him to lie to her. “Dalton stopped by. We’re going to lunch.”

“Dalton? Dalton, my boss?”

He grinned, partly hoping to disarm her and partly because her shock was amusing. “You know any other Daltons?”

“Do you think he’s here because he knows about us?”

“No,” he said, perfectly honestly. “I think he’s here because he’s up to his neck in this crap our dad has dumped on him. He may be your boss, but he’s also my brother.” He dropped another kiss on her mouth. “Don’t worry, he’ll never know you were here. I’ll take care of it.”

Then, because he just couldn’t resist, he gave her ass a squeeze beneath the towel before leaving the room. She had a great ass. He only hoped that Dalton showing up today hadn’t spooked her so badly he never saw it again.

*

She was going to kill Griffin. What the hell did he mean, he’d take care of it? Was he going to take care of it like he took care of that pothos ivy that had been slowly dying in his living room? Or like he took care of… Well, crap, she couldn’t even be properly indignant because she couldn’t very well rant against his lax attitude toward taking care of things because as far as she knew, he had absolutely no responsibilities in life other than keeping that damn potted plant alive. And he appeared to be failing at that.

For several stunned minutes, Sydney stood there beside the door, listening to the murmur of voices from the other side. She could distinguish none of the words and barely registered the tone. But she tried because somehow it seemed deathly important that she hear every nuance of their conversation.

Which was ridiculous because this probably had nothing to do with her. Dalton had a lot on his plate right now. She knew that better than anyone. She was one of the few people with whom Dalton could even discuss the missing heiress. For the previous week, he’d asked her to hand her normal workload off to someone else on the support staff so that she could devote her time to doing legwork in the search.