Page 41 of Love Undercover
Unexpected Visitor
It felt good to have her own clothes on again, but clean and fresh, and Sadie had to hand it to Chase that he’d chosen well on the underwear he’d bought at the store. If she’d sent Greg, he would’ve come back with something sexy and entirely impractical that wouldn’t have been comfortable to wear.
Her ankle was sore this morning, still a little swollen, but she could limp on it now, which she appreciated. As swoon-worthy as it was to have Chase carry her, it also rankled to be so dependent on someone else.
And it made her mind travel down a dangerous path. One that involved his mouth and hands all over her. Even the memory of the way his touch felt on her body was like a brand along her skin.
Crackers, that was not something she needed to be entertaining. Even if he was a “good guy,” he was still working a job that involved very dangerous people, and she was already ontheir radar. How much worse could it get for her—or for Chase—if they got involved romantically?
Would it put him in trouble with his bosses? And what about with the FBI? Surely it wasn’t sanctioned—what was it he’d called it? code? protocol?—to date the person you kidnapped, even just to keep them safe, while working undercover for a major crime boss.
Roberta would faint at the flagrant disregard for the rules.
Not to mention it could never just be a physical thing for Sadie. She was well acquainted with her own heart to know how easily she fell into the land of feelings. It was her way. There were already stirrings heading that direction, and a physical relationship would forge something in her that usually got her into trouble.
She walked into the kitchen, and he must have sensed her presence because he turned to acknowledge her. He froze at the sight of her, taking in her appearance—the clean clothes that actually fit, her brushed and braided hair, her fresh face.
He turned back to the stove, making eggs again, though the carton beside him said pasture-raised, and she suppressed a smile. It did send a twinge of guilt through her when she thought about how she’d taken off when he’d so graciously taken her preferences into account.
It made her voice small when she asked, “Is it okay if I make my deodorant?”
He raised a brow at her. “Sure. What do you need again?”
She ticked them off on her fingers as she listed the ingredients: “Coconut oil, cornstarch, baking soda, a saucepan, and a glass bowl to make a double boiler.”
He reached over to open the pantry that stretched to the ceiling for her to look. Even after his grocery trip, it didn’t have much—just the necessities, a few canned goods, a bag of rice.How much time did he actually spent in this house? Was ithishome, some kind of cover residence, or just an FBI safe house?
There was still so much she didn’t know or understand about this situation, and part of her didn’t want to find out. The little she knew was already overwhelming enough.
She bent to look deeper, finding a half-full box of baking soda and some cornstarch. She couldn’t find the coconut oil, but Chase cleared his throat, and she turned to find him holding it out to her.
“Thank you,” she murmured, accepting it.
He set to work getting the saucepan and the bowl for her double boiler, and they settled in next to each other at the stove. Their arms brushed as she scooped out the coconut oil and measured each of the other ingredients. It was an effort not to look at him, even though tingles of phantom sensation ran through her from when his hands had been all over her body. He’d touched her like a starved man.
Which he very well may have been. What did life undercover actually look like? Lonely, probably.
She wanted to ask, but she had to wait until all the heat pouring through her ebbed because it was too distracting for her to form coherent sentences.
To give herself the chance to gather her thoughts, she moved to the sink to fill the small pan with water and set it on the stove to heat. Then she pulled back to lean against the counter as he was turning off his burner.
He frowned, looking down at her ankle. “Just because it’s feeling better doesn’t mean you should be on that ankle for long.”
She looked down at it too, then gestured to the double boiler. “I have to watch this closely, so I know when to add everything.”
He sucked his teeth, narrowing his gaze on her face. “All right.” He shifted to stand in front of her and placed his hands ather waist, lifting her to sit on the counter before she even knew what he was doing.
She grabbed at his shoulders belatedly, a giggle slipping out as he slid her back on the smooth marble.
“Now you can keep the weight off your ankle and watch it. Though you really should keep your foot elevated.”
He didn’t release her, and she didn’t take her hands from his shoulders. Time stretched, temptation tickling along her mind as they stared at each other.
“Are you hungry?” he asked after a moment, his voice very quiet. Still, it scraped the air with the gravel in it.
Very, she wanted to say as she looked down at his mouth for a split-second. His fingers flexed against her waist, and she wondered what exactly was happening to her.
She’d always been impulsive, her spontaneity leading her to kiss guys on a whim in her past, even testing the waters with ones who probably didn’t deserve her time. Sometimes her brashness afforded her once-in-a-lifetime experiences and relationships that grew and tested her. Other times, she’d earned herself nothing but heartache.
