Page 34 of The Sadist and the Brat

The song finished, and Sadie was reaching for her phone to find something else to listen to when she heard a knock on her front door. She checked the time, wincing when she saw it was past two. Hoping the music hadn’t disturbed her neighbors, she wiped her hands on her yoga pants and hurried to the door.

She rose on her toes to check the peephole out of habit.

Jack, his image distorted through the fish eye lens, stared back at her.

“Oh, hell,” she muttered under her breath.

“Hello to you, too,” Jack said, his deep voice carrying easily through the door.

She angled her head to try to see him more clearly through the peephole. He wore a camel-colored overcoat and leather gloves the color of chocolate, with a matching scarf draped around his neck. He had one hand tucked in the pocket of the coat, and in the other…

“What’s in your hand?”

He held it up. “Package for you. It was sitting in front of your door.”

“Tampering with the mail is a federal offense,” she informed him.

“It’s only tampering if it’s actually in a mailbox,” he replied. “On the floor doesn’t count.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“Look it up,” he suggested. “Are you going to open the door?”

“Not until you tell me what you’re doing here.”

“I didn’t get your email.”

Since he couldn’t see her, she made a face at him. “I didn’t send an email.”

“That would explain it.” One dark eyebrow quirked up. “Want to tell me why?”

Shit.She knew she’d have to deal with this at some point. She just hadn’t pictured doing it at two a.m. “It’s late, Jack. Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”

“Coward.”

She scowled at his image, then dropped back to her heels, flipped open the locks and opened the door. “Stop calling me a coward.”

“Stop acting like one.” His gaze skimmed over her. “Nice hat.”

She reached up to yank off the bandana she’d tied over her hair to protect it from paint spatters. “I was painting.”

His gaze dropped to her chest. “Something blue, I gather.”

She glanced down, saw the splotch of paint covering Garth’s face. “Dammit.”

“There’s a streak on your face, too,” he said, eyes crinkling as he tapped his own cheek with a gloved hand.

She did not have the mental fortitude to deal with eye crinkles at two in the morning. They scrambled her brain, which was probably why she blurted out, “I haven’t decided if I want to play with you yet.”

To her relief and disappointment, the crinkles went away, and he nodded. “Fair enough.”

She narrowed her eyes, suspicious of his quick agreement, then nodded. “Good night.”

She started to close the door when he said, “Let’s talk about it.”

She swung the door back open to stare at him. “Now? It’s two in the morning.”

Amusement flashed in his dark eyes. “So? We’re both awake, and there’s an all-night diner down the street. I’ll treat you to a slice of pie. Or,” he continued when she just stared at him, “did you just plan to avoid me forever, like you did at the party tonight?”

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