Page 17 of Into the Tempest

I gestured to his suit pants, lace-up shoes, and crisp white button-down shirt, his hair pulled back into a small ponytail. “Who are you and where is the Tully who wears old clothes and no shoes?”

He rolled his eyes. “I told you I wear proper clothes to work. Do you not like it?”

I glanced down at how his shirt was tucked in at his narrow waist, how the column of his neck looked against the open collar. His hair... pulled back. “Oh yes. As I said, gorgeous. But I like the shorts with the rip in them and the threadbare shirt just as much.”

He grinned, and his voice dropped to a sultry whisper. “And I like it when you turn down handsome strangers because you have a boyfriend.”

He looked at my mouth and licked his lips, stepping in for a kiss.

I pulled him in, then closed and locked the door behind him. He leaned up against the wall and pulled me against him, his hand on my hip. “My sexy and smart boyfriend was all over the news today. On the TV and everything.”

Well, that was a mood killer.

“Oh god.” I sighed. “Was I terrible? I wasn’t expecting an interview and I hadn’t prepared anything, and she asked me stupid questions. Then I had more people turn up and so many phone calls I turned my phone off.”

He took my hand and studied my fingers. “I know. I called several times. I was coming to see if you were okay. I was worried.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. I cupped his face and kissed him softly. “I’ve been so busy.”

“I assumed that was the case, but still... I had to come and see if you were okay.” He pulled me against him again, his back against the wall, his hand snaking up from my hip to my jaw, and he brought my face in for another kiss.

A deeper kiss, open mouths and a taste of his tongue.

Damn.

He made me forget where I was, what I was supposed to be doing. I almost forgot how to breathe.

Until my stomach growled so loud it made him laugh.

“Hungry for something?” he murmured, his lips wet and swollen.

“Yes,” I breathed, touching my fingertip to his bottom lip. I went to kiss him some more, but then my stomach growled again, and he held my face, his smile now gone.

“What did you eat today?”

“Oh, I uh...” Uh oh. “I forgot. I was busy and I...”

He sighed and pinched my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You need to look after yourself,” he chastised warmly. “You have to remember to eat. I know you’re busy and you’re stressed but, Jeremiah, you’ll be no good to anyone if you’re sick.”

I opened my mouth to argue, because I could damn well look after myself, just as something on the console started to beep. He sighed again and squeezed my hand. “I’ll be back with some dinner.” He went to open the door and found it locked, giving me a puzzled look.

“Reporters and... just people in general, really.”

He chuckled as he let himself out. “I’ll be back.”

I didn’t remember to say thank you until he’d already gone. I wasn’t used to having someone look after me, and I made a mental note to make more of an effort.

I switched off the beeping noise and uploaded the latest data to the news feed. The fact I still had to do this manually was a testament to the age of this gear, and after this cyclone, if this building still stood, I’d officially be requesting a full upgrade.

When Tully came back with a bag of takeout, he sat in Doreen’s chair and I reached over and squeezed his hand. “Thank you,” I said. “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful before. I appreciate everything you do. I’m not used to having anyone look out for me, so my first knee-jerk reaction is to be defensive, and I want you to know that’s not a reflection on you, but rather on myself.”

He studied me for a quick second before he wheeled his chair over and gave me a quick kiss. “I know. But thank you for saying that.”

“I’m very new to this, and I’m set in my ways. And I would never mean to offend you or take you for granted, so if you ever feel disrespected or unappreciated, please tell me. What might be glaringly obvious to other people is somewhat lost on me, and I just want you to know that.” I cringed. “That you will probably have to tell me to stop every once in a while to remove my head from my arse.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll tell ya.” He grinned at me. “But thank you. I know it ain’t easy for you. I’m more of a let’s-talk-about-our-feelings kinda guy, and the idea of doin’ that makes you wanna die. I get it. There’s nothin’ wrong with it. It’s just how we were raised.”

I opened my mouth to argue that point, but everything he’d said was the truth.

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