Page 13 of Stalking His Target

“How is it you’realwayshere right when you say you will be?” she whispers. “Never late. Never make me wait on you.”

I stiffen. Is she on to me?

Is this a probing question?

“I’m just a man of my word. If I say I’ll be there, I’ll be there.”

Layla smiles as I close the door and carry her into the living room. “Well, that’s good enough for me.”

Nope. She’s still not on to me. Thank God for that.

“Hungry?” she asks. “We could order Thai. Or I could cook for you. You know I love to cook for you.”

“And I love when you cook for me.” I grin back. “But mostly because you wear that sexy little kitchen apron that doesn’t cover your butt–”

“Oh, you!” She giggles, pressing me down into the couch as she lies on top of me. I don’t even hide my sigh of satisfaction. Christ, I could stay like this forever. If only life were that simple.

“I am a little hungry,” I reply as she presses her lips across my neck, pulling the hem of my Henley down so she can get to my chest. “But not for food…”

A noise of excitement sings from her throat, and she looks up at me, licking her bottom lip with her tongue.

“Are you saying you want to…eat me?”

“Don’t I always?” I ask.

She blushes, and my heart swells. Emotions I thought I’d buried deep down inside of me long ago have risen up, and it’s all thanks to Layla. I never thought I’d be able to love again. Not after my father was killed. Not after losing my mother to cancer. Not after being cheated on by the only woman I ever cared at all for. I swore I was broken. But Layla’s putting me back together. Part by part. Bit by bit.

“If you’re not that hungry, I’ll just order something,” Layla says, pulling out her phone.

“Fine with me.” I watch as she taps her screen with her thumbs. It’s hard to believe I can be enamored by her while she does something so mundane, but I can. I’ll watch her do anything. Whether it’s cleaning dishes or folding her laundry or blow-drying her hair. As long as my eyes are on her, I’m a happy man. The luckiest man alive. “How’d work go today?”

I already know, of course, as I was outside watching the entire time.

“It was okay,” Layla says, sighing as she sets the phone aside. “They just waste so much money on unneeded things. You know what I’d like to do?”

“What’s that?”

“I’d like to run myownart supply store one day.”

This girl warms my heart. “You know what I think?”

“What?” She smiles.

“I think you’d be great at that.” I’m overtaken instantly by images of possible futures shared by Layla and me. Her running her own art store while I work an actual honest job and provide for her. Of course we’re married. Maybe we have children, or some on the way. Is that actually possible for the two of us?

“Really?” she asks, nuzzling even closer. Her breasts on my chest cause my heart to skip beats and heat to coalesce at my center. I run my hands up the back of her thighs and take hold of her ass, sculpted and spectacular. I grab her waistband to tug it down so I can get to what’s beneath, but it’s at that moment that my cell vibrates in my pocket.

“Shit,” I growl. I check it and see the name “Bobby” on the caller ID. I’ve told Layla that’s the name of my supervisor at work, but it’s actually Neal, my mission chief, calling from Langley. “I have to take this. I’ll just step outside for a second.”

“Oh, stay here with me,” she pleads, slipping her hands up my shirt, tracing the lines of my abs. “Let him leave a voicemail!”

“I’d love to,” I reply, telling the truth as I slide out from under her and stand. “But this could be important. It won’t be long, sweetheart.”

She winks at me as I let myself out into the hall. “It better not be.”

I make sure the door is closed before I answer. “Yeah?”

“You haven’t checked in in almost a week,” Neal says sternly. “Haven’t lost your way, have you?”

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