Argeneau Family 12. The Renegade Hunter(59)

The bathroom, obviously, Nicholas thought, and forced away the sudden image in his mind of Jo stripping her clothes and stepping under a steaming spray. It wasn't an easy task, mostly because he was enjoying the vision. Of course, he'd prefer the reality, but that was definitely out of the question. Jo would take her shower, he would let her eat and then tell her what he'd done to make himself a rogue, and quickly return her to the enforcer house when she requested it. Nicholas had no doubt she would.

Pushing that thought away as firmly as he had the image of Jo showering, Nicholas glanced into the first open door, and then flipped the light switch on. The room had been set up as an office with a desk, an expensive leather chair, and shelf after shelf of books, most of them legal in nature. He flipped off the light and moved on to the next room. This light was already on and the closet doors open to reveal the first signs that Sam had actually moved out. The closet held only a few items of clothing, what he suspected were rejects left behind when she'd taken the rest of her clothes. Hopefully Jo would be able to find something among them to replace her own oil-stained clothes.

His gaze slid to the bed next, taking in the voluptuous red satin comforter and arrangement of pillows on it. For one moment Nicholas envisioned Jo lying on that bed, her naked body pale against all that deep, rich red, and then he forced himself to look away and moved back out of the room to retrace his steps back to the kitchen.

Nicholas had reached the wine rack when the sound of the shower died. He glanced toward the door, but then forced his eyes back to the wine to consider the selection, eyebrows rising as he noted the bottles with little blue penguins on them. For some reason it made him smile. His gaze slid over the other bottles, but then returned to the penguins, and he picked one of those. It had been fifty years since he'd had wine and he had no idea what was considered good, but three out of the six bottles bore the penguins and suggested it was a house favorite.

Taking the bottle, he crossed back to the counter, found an opener and quickly uncorked it and set it aside to breathe as he opened the pizza box.

Nicholas had two slices on a plate ready to go in the microwave—whatever that was—and was pouring wine into the glasses when Jo padded back into the kitchen. Setting down the bottle, he glanced over his shoulder and then turned and simply watched as Jo crossed the room toward him. Her feet were bare, her hair damp, and her face completely lacking makeup. She would have looked about twelve were she not wearing a sleek, red silk robe that clung in spots where she'd still been damp when she'd donned it, emphasizing that her figure was a woman's.

"It's the only thing Sam left behind that will fit," Jo said wryly as she reached the counter. "She's as skinny as a rail. So I threw my clothes in the wash and this will have to do until they're dry."

"It's lovely," Nicholas said, frowning when he heard how husky his voice was. Clearing his throat, he picked up one of the glasses of wine and held it out to her.

"Mmm, Little Penguin," she said, glancing at the bottle on the counter as she accepted the glass. "It's my favorite among the not ridiculously expensive wines. Sam's too."

"That explains the three bottles then," Nicholas said with amusement.

Jo smiled and took a sip as she moved around him to the microwave. She opened the door, grabbed the plate of pizza, and placed it inside.

Nicholas watched as she started hitting buttons, but knew he'd never be able to replicate the action himself. It seemed if he was going to be eating again, he had some things to learn. Though it was possible his desire to eat would disappear once Jo was out of his life as it had when his first life mate, Annie, had died.

Swallowing at the painful thought, Nicholas turned and picked up the other wineglass to take a drink. Losing Annie had been hard, but he knew losing Jo would be harder. She wouldn't be dead, but simply beyond his reach. He would forever be the poor and hungry young lad peering at the fine cake in the shop window, able to see the sweet that lay beyond, but never to touch or taste it.

"A couple minutes and we can eat," Jo announced, turning toward him as the microwave began to hum. "Do you want to eat at the table or in the living room?"

Nicholas stared down at her silently, watching her drink from her glass. When she lowered it, her lips were wet and a drop of the red liquid remained on her lower lip, just one drop of the smooth wine, trembling there, but it fascinated him. Nicholas couldn't seem to tear his eyes away, and then it began to roll off and her tongue slid out to catch it and he growled, "The table."

"Okay," Jo murmured. "Well—"

Whatever she'd been about to say died and her eyes widened in surprise as he suddenly took her wineglass and turned to set it on the counter with his own. Nicholas then turned back, scooped her up, and carried her to the table. Her eyes were wide and questioning when he sat her there.