The nightstand on the opposite side is vacant.

While I’m curious about what book has his attention at the moment, I’m more intrigued by the framed photographs lining a long shelving unit opposite the bed.

Moving toward it, I pick up a picture of three teenage boys, all of them with their arms slung around each other’s shoulders. Based on their nearly identical appearance, I gather this is Jude and his brothers.

I grab the next photo, my heart warming at the large family in front of a Christmas tree adorned with glittering ornaments and sparkling lights. Wrapping paper and bows lie scattered at their feet, evidence of a holiday well-celebrated. This photo is clearly more dated than the last, but I have no trouble identifying Jude amongst the five children, who all bear a strong resemblance to each other.

One of the boys is much older than the rest, already a teenager in this photo, while the other three are still elementary school aged. And amongst the four boys is a little girl who can’t be more than two years old.

A pang of envy hits me as I continue examining the photos of the obviously happy and close-knit family. I’ve never experienced this kind of familial bond. I don’t see an ounce of irritation or animosity between them. Instead, there’s only love and affection.

Not wanting to invade Jude’s privacy more than I already have, especially after his hospitality, I turn to leave. But as I do, something catches my eye — the edge of a photo tucked under a ceramic dish. It’s probably just another family photo, but I carefully lift the dish anyway.

Like I expected, it’s another photo. But this one stops me cold.

A tiny figure floats in a sea of darkness — an ultrasound photo dated a little more than three years ago. Maybe it’s a niece or nephew. Given his close relationship with his family, it wouldn’t be a far-fetched assumption.

But something tells me it’s more than that. The way Jude keeps it tucked away suggests it holds a deeper significance to him.

My heart breaks at what that could be, a chill washing over me.

The silence of the house is suddenly broken by the sound of the front door opening. My pulse skyrockets, a shock of adrenaline shooting through me as I hastily put the photo back, making sure nothing else is out of place. Then I tiptoe out of his room and continue down the staircase, trying to act as if I hadn’t just been spying on him.

But my feet catch on the last step, causing me to stumble forward. Just as I brace myself for an embarrassing face plant, two strong hands grip my hips.

“Easy there,” Jude’s deep voice rumbles in my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

I snap my head up, my eyes tracing over his damp hair and the beads of sweat dotting his brow, making me think he just finished working out.

I shouldn’t ogle, but it’s impossible when he’s less than an inch away.

And he’s shirtless.

Broad shoulders narrow into a sculpted chest and defined abs. Don’t even get me started on that little V that disappears into his shorts, making me wonder what else is hidden past his waist.

“Are you okay?”

I return my eyes to his, the smirk on his lips giving away that he obviously caught me checking him out.

“Just peachy,” I answer, my voice coming out more breathy than I intended.

“Good.”

I expect him to release me now that he knows I’m fine.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he continues to hold me, neither one of us breaking eye contact.

A surge of electricity courses through my veins, making me forget everything. My botched wedding. My current predicament. Hell, I even manage to forget about that mysterious ultrasound photo I found mere seconds ago.

Instead, all I can think about is the intensity in Jude’s eyes and why the feel of his hands on me seems to ignite something within me.

He takes a slow survey of my body, his gaze lingering on my bare legs before working its way to meet my eyes once more. When he does, I notice something flicker within — curiosity, attraction, longing. Especially when he steals a glance at my lips, as if wondering how they would taste.

Then, with the flip of a switch, his expression suddenly hardens into the same guarded one from our first meeting. He releases me and steps back, creating space between us.

“Help yourself to anything in the fridge. I need to shower and get to work.” His tone is even as he pushes past me and up the stairs.