Page 46 of Zero Hour

“I don’t have a key anymore,” she said.

He tapped his fingers on the table. “No, but you could let us in. If you’re there, the alarm will be deactivated.”

She hesitated, chewing on that bottom lip again.

Damn it. Stop doing that. It was driving him crazy.

“Okay. I’ll say I don’t feel well and stay behind when they go out tomorrow morning.”

“That’ll work. We’ll know when the coast is clear.”

“You’ll be watching?” He liked the way her eyes lit up at the thought.

“I’m always watching.”

She sucked in a breath, a faint blush staining her cheeks.

“Where is the camera?” she asked.

“I can’t tell you specifics.”

She gave a little nod. “Still, it helps knowing you’re there.” Something flickered in her eyes, and he felt a small thrill shoot through him. He knew he should leave. Should stand up and walk the hell away. But he didn’t.

Instead, he dropped his gaze to the curve of her throat where her pulse fluttered. Was it his imagination or was her breath coming a little faster now? Was she feeling this too?

Without knowing why, he reached out and tucked a stray strand of blond hair behind her ear. Her skin was warm and soft, and he could smell her scent, warm and intoxicating, drift up between them.

Her eyes widened, and her lips parted, turning his blood molten. The air between them grew thick, charged with something he couldn’t explain.

His fingers lingered, brushing her cheek. He should stop this madness right now. He needed to get up, walk out of that door, and pretend none of this ever happened—but he didn’t move.

Neither did she.

She moved her head, turning into his hand so he was cupping her face. An intimate, trusting gesture.

He brushed a thumb over her lips, needing to know if they were as soft as they looked. They were.

“Can I get you anything else?” the barista asked, coming over to their table.

Pat whipped his hand away like he’d been stung.

Fucking hell.

What the hell are you playing at, Burke?

Jasmine blinked. “Oh. Er, no thanks, Tony. We’re good.”

Patrick stood up, chair scraping on the floor. “I should go.”

“Yes, so must I.”

As he made to move, she grabbed his arm. “Patrick?—?”

He stopped. “Yeah?”

“Thank you. For being there.”

He gave a gruff nod, then left the store, taking the ghost of her scent and the feel of skin beneath his fingers with him.

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