Page 39 of The Blonde Identity

He pointed to the bright light behind the gauzy curtains, but Zoe was unflustered and unconcerned as she stretched. But then she stopped suddenly, looking down at where he sat, sweaty and shirtless on the floor.

“Did you really do a hundred push-ups or did you start counting at like eighty-five?”

He didn’t laugh. Nope. Not at all. But it was all he could do to bite back a smirk as he pushed himself upright. “Now I have to start from one... again. Since someone made me lose count.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“One. Two.”

“Are you flexing your muscles right now?”

“No. I’m using my muscles.”

“He said,” she went on, “flexally.”

“That isn’t a word.”

“He said,glisteningly.”

“Still not a—”

“Ooh! Breakfast!” She must have spotted the croissant and fruit he’d pilfered from the buffet and brought back to the room.

“More like lunch,” he said, but she just groaned in response.

“This is so good. How long have you been up?”

“I didn’t—”

“Sleep.” She actually rolled her eyes. “Which is a lie. But I’ll allow it. When did you get out of bed?”

“Sunrise. I searched the perimeter.”

She looked at him like he was an idiot. “Do you mean you walked around the boat? Is that what that means?”

“I can take my croissant back, you know.”

“No.” She scooted to the other side of the bed. “I need this. I’m working out too.” She brought it slowly to her mouth. “It’s so heavy. I should do a few more reps.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh at her words or groan at the sight of that nightgown in the light of day, so he crashed to the floor again, push-ups totally forgotten.

“I...” She started then trailed off as he took a towel and rubbed it over his sweaty chest. He’d have to take a shower soon and pray Mr. Michaelson packed something other than stuffy blazers.

“What?” he asked.

“Uh...” She shook her head and jerked her eyes away from his chest.

“Zoe?” he prompted.

But she looked like maybe she wasn’t sure if she should admit it, share it, like maybe she trusted him with her life but not her secrets. Sawyer totally knew the feeling. His whole life was classified.

So she peeled off a layer of fluffy croissant and shrugged. “I wasgoing to say I never sleep this late, but maybe I do? Maybe I never rise before noon because I’m up all night doing brain surgeries. Or fighting fires. Or . . . I don’t know . . . managing a sex club!”

He coughed as he took a drink of water.

“A classy one,” she added, sounding defensive of her nonexistent sex club. “Withmasks.”

Yeah. Sawyer was definitely going to need that shower soon. He wanted to turn away, but everywhere he looked he saw her. Damn mirrors. Sawyer had spent his whole life looking over his shoulder, but right then he didn’t want to know what was behind him. And he sure as hell didn’t want to think about what was in front of him, so he just sat there, trying not to think about anything at all.

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