Or so she’d thought right up until sixty seconds ago, when she’d opened the door expecting to find the shippers on her stoop, but instead faced Connor smiling that aggravating smile at her.
“Hey, gorgeous, got something these guys can prop the security door open with. Shouldn’t take too long—”
“What are you doing here?” she snapped, too shocked to soften her demand.
A careless shrug. “Didn’t know if you had anyone to help, and figured it would go more smoothly with a second body. You know, make sure there weren’t any problems.”
Throat thick with emotion she didn’t want to face, emotion she needed to put aside, she shook her head. “Connor, you shouldn’t have come here. I left because—”
“Call it marital privilege.” His smile stayed exactly as it was, but his eyes were hard as they scanned the guys unloading one box after another from the truck. “I’m still your husband, so might as well work it while I’ve got it.”
Marital privilege—who was he kidding?
She wanted to argue with him, tell him how much his showing up on her doorstep—when she’d left in the earliest hours of the morning to avoid seeing him again—infuriated her. But Connor wasn’t stupid. He’d known exactly how much this would upset her, and he’d chosen to come regardless because Connor always did what Connor wanted.
“Anyway, I’m here,” he said, reaching over her head and wrapping his hand around the security door she’d been holding on to for dear life. “So, what do you say we haul this stuff up to your apartment and get these guys out of here?”
She nodded, trying to ignore the way his casual work shirt stretched across the broad expanse of his chest, or how when he’d leaned in to take hold of the door she hadn’t yet relinquished, it put him close enough for the too-good scent of his soap and skin to tease her.
Unable to resist, she drew a deep breath through her nose and held his delicious scent within her. Savoring it as she savored the memories it spurred. Memories of late nights, bare skin and pleasure that engaged her every sense.
She’d fallen so far. So fast.
Connor’s free hand closed over her waist, and she looked up into those dark brown eyes. It was a mistake. She shouldn’t be this close. Shouldn’t have allowed herself to be snared by the one lure sure to catch her.
The hand at her waist coasted over the small of her back, shooting sparks of sensation across her skin, sparks that threatened to reignite a flame.
“Megan,” Connor said, urging her closer to all his heat.
She knew she should push away. Being this close meant getting burned, but— “Watch out, sweetheart, the guys need to get by.”
Her head swung around to the first mover, who was edging around her, a box marked OFFICE in his arms.
“Thanks, ma’am.”
She nodded, embarrassment blazing in her cheeks as she tried to step back from Connor’s hold and into the door. Only, he held her firm, until she had no choice but to meet his eyes again.
This time she kept her head.
“Let me go so I can tell him where to put everything.” So she could breathe and think and stand a chance at remembering all the reasons she needed to keep her distance from this man who wreaked havoc on her judgment.
* * *
His thumb slid in the smallest caress against the base of her spine, and then his attention shifted back to the men and the truck and the return of Megan’s life to what it had been before she’d met him.
What the hell was he doing there? He’d decided to let Megan go.
Had spent the entire damn day she left getting himself to a place where that possessive part of him all about keeping her was tamped down enough for him to be able to call. Talk to her without trying to talk her into anything. Make sure she’d made it back to Denver and was okay.
He’d done it.
Worked out a few logistics regarding the return of her things and hung up patting himself on the back for finally doing the right thing.