Sugar on the Edge(23)

Gavin doesn’t say a word, although I probably wouldn’t hear him over the hum of the vacuum. I turn my back on him, moving my way around the other side of his bed. Just as I’m about finished with that side, I jump as something goes sailing past my shoulder and lands on the floor beside me. Glancing down, I see it’s the towel he was wearing. My skin prickles with awareness that I’m standing in the same room with a very naked, and very sexy, British author.

I know this is a test. He’s testing me to see how anti-heroine I can be. I’m sure he expects me to blush deeply—which, okay, I am—but I’m sure he expects me to stiffen up in mortification and ignore his taunt due to extreme embarrassment.

It’s time to show Mr. Cooke my heroine traits.

Holding the vacuum handle in one hand, I bend over and grab the towel, throwing it over my shoulder. I turn my head, look straight at him, and will myself to maintain eye contact and not look at anything below his chin.

“Thanks,” I call out loud enough that he can hear me over the vacuum. I even give him a quick wink before turning back around.

Holy hell… he was completely naked. While it was a brief glance and I definitely sought out just his eyes, my surrounding vision took in his nude form in all its glory. I’m sadly disappointed I didn’t get a better look at the rest of him, and my cheeks burn with the realization that I am undeniably, one-hundred percent, completely attracted to this strange and frustrating man.

But God… look at him. What’s not to be attracted to?

I go back to finishing a few more swipes of the rug. Turning the vacuum off, I push it out of his room. I have the distinct feeling he’s smirking at me. I wish I were brave enough to do something that would leave him confounded, wondering if Savannah “Sweet” Shepherd isn’t quite the demure little creature he has me pegged to be.

But truly… I don’t have that in me. Especially not with the lack of sleep I’m functioning under. I’d probably end up doing something completely lame and cheesy, and my new nickname from him would be “Dork.”

When I reach the hallway, as an afterthought, I can’t help but turn back around to ask him, “Do you want me to clean your office really quick since I didn’t get it last week?”

Damn… he has a pair of jeans on already, but his chest is still yummy and bared to me. He nods his head while reaching in a drawer for a T-shirt. “Just give it a quick dusting. You can do the floor next week. I have to make a few calls before I start writing.”

I quickly run downstairs and grab my bucket of supplies, trudging up to the third floor. The last flight of stairs leaves me winded, and I’m betting that has everything to do with lack of food energy.

His office is nice with dark hardwoods and burgundy walls. It holds nothing but an ornate wooden desk in the middle of the room that faces the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that overlook the ocean. His desk is well organized with a laptop in the middle, a stack of legal pads, and a few pens. To the right of the laptop sits a small frame, and I creep forward to get a closer look.

I’m surprised to see it’s a picture of a little boy sitting on the steps outside of a house. He’s adorable, with brown hair and bright blue eyes. He’s showing a semi-toothless grin at the camera, and I have to wonder who it is.

I hear Gavin coming up the stairs so I quickly get to work dusting his desk, making a quick pass over the framed photo but steering clear of his laptop. I also wipe down the doors and windowsills, deciding against cleaning the windows because they look to be in good shape and I know Gavin wants to get to work.

By the time Gavin sits at his desk and boots up his computer, I’m backing out of his office. Just before he closes the door, he reminds me, “A sandwich and some chips if you don’t mind around noon.”

“Sure thing, boss man,” I tell him and shut the door behind me.





“Sweet… wake up,” I hear a voice say, sounding like it’s way off in the distance. I push mentally against it and sink back down into slumber.

Something touches my shoulder lightly and shakes me. “Come on, Sweet… get up.”

“Stop,” I say grouchily, swatting at the offending thing that’s shaking me.

I hear a chuckling sound, and it gets louder. “Savannah… wake up. You’re going to get a kink in your neck in that position.”

What?

I lift my head up and blearily open my eyes. Looking around in confusion, I’m in a place I don’t immediately recognize, and then Gavin’s face comes into focus. Then I see that I’m in his kitchen.

Why in the hell am I in Gavin’s kitchen?