Page 18 of Deal with the Devil

I catch a quick look that passes between them before she disappears from the room. I want to ask what that had been about, but I think better of the urge. I probably don’t want to know, anyway.

When we hear the front door slam closed—because every time Candace leaves a room she slams the door—Kane stands. I can’t help the quickening flutter in my chest as I take him in. As always, the man is draped in black. Black jean, tight black t-shirt, black ink. He’s devilishly gorgeous.

“How do you feel about pizza?”

I stop checking him out to answer, “It’s a favorite.”

“Think I’m gonna order in tonight.”

My brows lift high, and my tone rises, too. “You’re staying?”

Kane has been off doing whatever Kane does—all the time. If I haven’t been with Candace, I’ve been alone. At first, I’d wondered if my presence here had been putting Kane out, but Candace assured me he’s just a busy man. Clearly, the man works hard for the life he has.

I glance around his space again. It’s gonna suck when I have to leave it to go back to my very low-glam life. As it is, I’m in an even biggerfinancial pickle now than I’d been in before the attack. I haven’t worked in a week, so I haven’t made any money.

The thought has a wave of anxiety prickling my spine.

“Thought we could spend some time together.”

I swallow that anxiety and force a smile. “Sure.”

He pulls his phone from his pocket and asks, “What kind of pizza?”

“I like it all,” I tell him and then amend quickly. “No anchovies. Shouldn’t need to be said, but yuck.”

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t laugh. “Olives?”

“Love em.”

He taps the screen, placing an order before he slides his phone back into his pocket and hits me with his full attention.

Kane’s full attention is a lot. It’s enough to melt a girl.

“You look good.”

Tucking my hair behind my ear, I shift in place. “Thanks. I don’t feel too bad.”

He moves across the room to me, pulling the coffee table closer before he sits on it. The man spreads thick thighs before he plants his elbows on his knees, leaning into my space.

Oh boy, he looks serious.

I’m unnerved.

“Gotta talk, Sunshine.”

At the firm way he informs me of this, Iknow I’ve overstayed my welcome. I don’t want to put him in a place where he has to tell me that. I also don’t want to hear it from him, so I rush to interrupt, “I know. It’s time for me to go home. Totally cool. No hard feelings. I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

A single brow raises. “You have?”

“Yeah, yeah.” I bob my head. Boy, I’m a poop liar. “What’s that saying about a smelly houseguest?”

“I have no idea.”

I’m snapping my fingers like it’ll help it come to me. It doesn’t, and I loose a sound of distress. I’m not the kind of girl that breezes through awkward situations with integrity and grace intact. No, I’m always the girl that stumbles flat on her face, skins her knees, and ends up with leaves and twigs in her hair. A hot mess, Mom likes to tease. At least she says it with love.

“Well, damn,” I mutter finally. “I have no idea, either.”

Amusement flickers through Kane’s blue eyes at the expense of my pout. I want to tell him that’s not nice when he says quietly, “I don’t want you to leave.”

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