Page 34 of Tempt Me

Hunger wins.

I belt the robe tighter and pad barefoot into the hallway. It’s a modern, sleek apartment with floor-to-ceiling windows. My head is still pounding, but I’m beginning to feel human again as I follow the smell of frying bacon to an open-plan kitchen, full of the latest steel appliances.

Jase is standing over the range with a skillet in his hand. Now I’m practically drooling—from the sight of him, and that delicious smell. He sets out a couple of plates at the table, then slides the food onto them.

“A good old-fashioned fry-up,” he says, taking a seat. “Best hangover cure around.”

“Wow, it looks amazing.” Bacon, eggs, sausage... I dig in, ravenous. I feel like I haven’t eaten in days, and even though my stomach is churning, just a couple of mouthfuls settles it again. There’s a mug of coffee too, and I take a grateful gulp.

“Thank you,” I tell him, sincere. “For the breakfast, and for... you know.”

“Not ravishing you?” Jase has a twinkle in his eye.

I laugh. “I really appreciate it. I just don’t understand, I never get this drunk.” I frown. Everything is still a blur. “How did I meet you? When did we wind up here?”

“You really don’t remember?” Jase looks concerned.

“No. Just... flashes of stuff.”

“Somebody spiked your drink,” he says matter-of-factly. “But nothing happened. I found you heading home, and brought you here to sleep it off.”

I feel a chill. “Who would do something like that?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.” Jase’s gaze is direct. “Who would want you staggering around, vulnerable and making bad decisions?”

“Nobody,” I gasp. “You really think someone did this to me on purpose? That’s... terrible.”

Jase softens. “Maybe it was just some bloke at the bar, figured he would make you an easy target.”

“That’s no better.” I shiver. “If you hadn’t been there...”

It dawns on me for the first time how lucky I’ve been. I was out there, drugged and totally helpless, and instead of taking advantage, Jase kept me safe. I look at him again and see the kindness I glimpsed before.

There’s more to this man than I realized.

I finish up my food. “I should go,” I say, already feeling guilty. Sure, nothing happened—but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it to. “Are my clothes... ?”

“On the chair in the bedroom,” Jase says. I head back down the hall and quickly change, but I can’t resist taking a closer look around the room. It’s messy, with files stacked in a corner and dirty laundry in a hamper by the door, but I would be surprised if someone like Jase took the time to keep things tidy.

He’s a man who has better things to do.

Things involving the massive king-sized bed in the middle of the room, with fresh navy sheets and a mattress I could happily sink into for another ten hours.

Especially if he was in bed with you.

I find a couple of framed photographs on the dresser: Jase with some buddies in army uniforms, and one of an older couple I think must be his parents. I peek in the drawers, and find messy heaps of clean laundry, nothing like the neat closet in Max’s place. He has a housekeeper come twice a week, groceries delivered and all his laundry sent out. Sometimes when I visit, I feel like I’m walking into a magazine shoot, leaving fingerprints smudged on all the polished glass.

I like it here better.

I check another drawer, curious, and find a pair of handcuffs nestled in a pile of socks. My stomach curls. I gingerly lift them out. They’re for real: hard metal, cool to the touch, not like those novelty ones Amanda has hanging on her door as a joke. I trace the steel, wondering what he does with the lucky women he brings back here...

“Want to give them a try?”

Jase’s voice comes, and I spin around. He’s watching from the doorway, amused. I look down to the handcuffs in my hand and the open dresser drawer.

Busted.

“I was just...” I gesture vaguely, mortified.

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