"I didn't mean to wake you." His voice matches mine in rasp. He reaches up and adjusts his tie. His hand smooths over the shock of electric blue fabric. I follow the movement, watching as he fastens the button of his jacket. He was dressed similarly at the engagement party, but I didn't have an opportunity to appreciate it the way I can now.
I've been staring and he's said words. I'm also biting my knuckle. I release it from my teeth. "Don't worry about it. I'm used to hearing traffic, so the silence is going to take some time to get used to."
His eyes keep darting down and then back up to my face. They seem to stay down longer and longer each time.
I follow his gaze trying to figure out what the deal is when I realize that my current attire isn't all that appropriate. I'm wearing a white tank, which isn't a problem, it covers all my important parts-aside from my perky nipples. What I didn't take into consideration was the fact that my bottom half is covered only by a pair of underwear. At least they're full coverage. They also happen to be lacy, since they were the only pair I could find in my semi-sleepy haze last night. I've worn less during dance competitions, but contextually, this isn't awesome. Or maybe it is considering the way he doesn't seem to be able maintain eye contact any better than me.
"Oh." I drop my hands and cover my crotch, as if that's going to help. "Uh. I'll be right back."
Bancroft's eyebrows climb a little, and a half smile appears as I turn and rush down the hall, with my hands shielding my ass.
"Don't feel compelled to put more clothes on for my benefit," he calls after me.
I grab my kimono from the back of the bathroom door-one of the very few items I unpacked last night before I passed out-and shrug it on. On the plus side, my cheeks now match the color of the flowers decorating my robe, so at least I'm coordinated. I return to the kitchen where Bancroft is now sipping a cup of coffee. He regards me over the rim of his cup, his amusement apparent in the arch of his brow.
"Sorry about that. I've been living alone for a long time."
"No need to apologize. Your wardrobe choices are your own. I'm certainly not going to complain." He's wearing a devilish smirk as he gives me another lingering once-over.
I prop a hip against the counter and cross my arms over my chest. "Hasn't anyone ever told you it's not polite to ogle?"
His gaze lifts to mine and he leans in close, voice dropping to a whisper as if he's about to tell me a secret. "I'm not always polite."
Oh God. I'd like to experience his not polite all over this condo. Right here on the kitchen island would be a good place to start. I go with snark rather than offering to be his breakfast. "You're going to drop below a nine again if you keep it up."
That sexy smile of his widens. "I guess it's good that I'm leaving. I'd hate to bring myself down to a lowly eight-point-five again."
I'm first to break the stare down. "What's this?" I motion to the scribbled notes on the counter. There are also a couple of envelopes. The one on top has my name on it, but the notes are first to grab my attention. "Isn't the hundred-page care manual enough?"
He blushes a little. "It's just a few things I forgot to tell you. And we didn't discuss payment."
"Payment? For what?"
"For taking care of Francesca and Tiny."
"You're giving me a place to live and free groceries."
"You'll have other expenses. You need a stipend. Will two a week be enough? I've left a little cash to start." He taps the envelope. "I'll get bank details from you later."
"Sure, that sounds reasonable." Two hundred a week on top of having a place to live and food already taken care of will definitely make things manageable while I look for a job.
I pick up the pages, the writing is nearly illegible. "I'm supposed to be able to read this? What is it, hieroglyphics?"
"My writing isn't that bad."
"Is that what your mom told you when you were in grade school?"
"I'll just email you later." He tries to grab the notes from me but I hide them behind my back. It pushes my chest out, drawing his attention there.
"It's fine. I'll just do some Internet research later on runes. It'll be like one of those hidden-message puzzles."
He opens his mouth, likely to shoot back another barb at me, but his phone rings. He pats his pockets and locates the device. "I have to get this." He answers the call. "Bancroft Mills speaking." A short pause follows. "I'll be right down." Once he ends the call he pockets his phone again. "It's my car for the airport." He gives me another lingering stare, and it could be in my head, but he looks like he's not all that excited about leaving at the moment.