Page 77 of Treat

“Can it start in the shower?”

He tightened his arm around her waist, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stood. “I think that can be arranged.”

“I think I might like this wooing business,” she said and, wrapping her legs around his hips, let him carry her into the bath.

By ten-thirty Brynnwas pacing the apartment, too restless to sit still. She’d taken Tilly for an extended second walk, telling Jude she wanted to work off the nervous energy. It had workedfor the dog—she was snoring on the leather bean bag in the corner, dead to the world. But Brynn seemed more agitated than ever.

“Will it do any good to tell you you’re worrying for nothing?” Jude asked from the sofa. He was stretched out, a book in his hands, watching her pace.

She shook her head. “No.”

“Is there anything I can do to make you worry less?”

“Get a new agent?”

“That’s an option, but hopefully a last resort.” He set down his book. “It’s none of his business, Brynn.”

“He’s not going to see it that way.”

“He’ll have to.” He watched her pace for another few seconds, then set his book on the coffee table and rose.

She stopped pacing when he approached, looking up at him expectantly. He didn’t say anything, just wrapped his arms around her and drew her in. She stood stiffly for a heartbeat, then her arms slipped around his waist and she melted against him with a sigh.

“Sorry,” she mumbled into his chest.

He rested his chin on top of her head. “For what?”

“Being an anxious mess?”

“You’re not a mess,” he assured her.

“Give me a few hours,” she muttered.

“You can come with me,” he reminded her.

She snorted. “So I can have my panic attack in front of Grant? I’m not sure that’s a winning strategy, Jude.”

“It might make you feel more in control to be there,” he offered.

She drew back to look at him, her glasses sliding down her nose. “I’ll either end up in tears or yelling at him.”

He reached up to gently nudge her glasses back into place. “I don’t mind.”

Her gaze softened. “Thanks, but I’d rather our first official public outing not end in me needing a tranquilizer.”

“Fair enough. Maybe you should find something to do, then,” he suggested.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. See a movie, go shopping. Just get out of the house for a while.”

She blew out a breath, making her bangs flutter. “That’s a good idea. If I stay here I’ll just end up baking.”

“Why baking?” he wondered.

“It’s what I do when I’m anxious,” she explained. “Keeps my hands busy, my brain occupied. And if it doesn’t work, at least I have baked goods.”

“On second thought, maybe you should stay here,” he said promptly.

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