Page 42 of The Spy Who Ghosted Me

“Hello, lover boy. How’s it going?”

I’d led Ivy to believe Sabrina and I were on the road to reconciling. She had no idea Sabrina knew who I was, and I planned to keep it that way. If not, the director would pull me off the case and probably fire me. Or worse, have me incarcerated.

“Very well. I need you to get Archie to investigate every lapidarist in New York City. I’m sure that’s where Izan had Lexi’s diamond cut. And I need you to keep me posted on what team two finds on Emerald Isle when they deliver that furniture.”

“So bossy tonight. I like it,” she purred. “I assume things are going well with your lady love.”

“Better than expected.” I kept out any details.

“I’m happy for you, darling. Just remember, the only happy ending you will get here is taking down Izan. You don’t get to keep the girl.”

I stared at Sabrina’s shadow in the cottage window. My entire life I’d felt like I was always looking from the outside in. I’d even convinced myself I wouldn’t want to go in, even if someone offered me the opportunity. But I started questioning—if Sabrina extended the invitation, would I think about accepting it? Could she teach me how to be the kind of man I’d never had in my life?

“You understand that, right?” Ivy interrupted my thoughts.

“Yes,” I said clearly, remembering Sabrina was only doing this to save her sister.

“Good. Now find me those diamonds so we can call it a day.”

That was a day I didn’t look forward to. I realized I had never said goodbye to anyone, and I wasn’t sure I knew how. Or perhaps this time, I didn’t want to.

Sabrina

I WALKED OUT OF CASH’S guest bath in my flannel pj’s with a clean and moisturized face to find he’d already made up his couch and, if I wasn’t mistaken, had laid a sleeping bag down near it. Was he afraid I would fall off the couch and need a safe landing? I tiptoed toward the couch, carrying my overnight bag, hardly believing I was doing this. But I needed some sleep, and I knew I would get none alone in my cottage. This wedding was exhausting me, as was this fake relationship that felt all too real. Dang sexy man.

“I’ll be right down,” Cash called out from the loft.

Uh ... “Okay.” I hurried to set my bag down and get settled under the covers on the couch. I didn’t know why I was so nervous. Nothing was going to happen between Cash and me—I was just here to catch up on some much-needed sleep. Yep, that was all. Nothing else to it. I snuggled into the blankets and rested my head on the pillow that smelled like Cash. His yummy scent filled my senses and my head with nonsense. Nonsense, like maybe one good night kiss wouldn’t hurt, even though I knew it would be excruciating when I found myself wishing for his good night kisses every night of my life. Been there, done that.

In my head, I formulated a plan to pretend to fall asleep before he came downstairs, but that went out the window when he started sauntering down the steps in my line of sight. I gripped the blankets tightly, unable to avert my gaze. Hello, pajama pants and bare chest. Holy ripples. I think I might have drooled a little on my pillow. I coughed and spluttered. “Um ... the deal was you keep your clothes on.”

Cash landed on the first floor, sexily smiling. “The deal was for me to wear underwear at all times, which I am.”

“Oh yeah,” I said so breathlessly I sounded like I was auditioning for a soap opera.

Cash chuckled and planted himself on the sleeping bag next to the couch.

“What are you doing?” I asked, breathing in his shower-clean scent and envying a few of the leftover water droplets that were making their way down his smooth, carved-to-perfection chest and those washboard abs. The urge to wipe the drops away had me clenching my fists before I did something I would thoroughly enjoy, but would most likely regret later.

“I’m watching over you.”

Why did he have to be so sweet? It made it awfully hard to hate him. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor.”

His brow quirked. “Are you offering to share the couch?”

“No,” I spluttered. “I just meant you can sleep upstairs in your bed.”

“Not happening.” He unholstered a gun from his leg and placed it on the nearby coffee table.

I stared at the gun. I knew he packed heat, but now I had proof. What else was he hiding under those pajama pants? You know what? I didn’t want to know.

Cash noticed my apprehension. “Does the gun bother you?”

“No.” I grew up in Tennessee, so I knew all about guns. Pops had even taught Lexi and me how to handle a gun properly and shoot one, but I had to wonder if the gun lying on the table had done things I would rather not know about.

“It just allows me easier access if I need it,” he explained.

I swallowed hard. “Do you think you’re going to need it tonight?”

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