“I hope you can help her.”
“I’m certainly going to try.”
When she shrugged off her shoulder bag and dropped it on the counter, he skimmed a discerning eye over her face.
“You look exhausted.”
“I am.”
“Shall I make you breakfast? Eggs scrambled with sausage and salsa?”
“As tempting as that sounds, I’ll pass. What I need right now is a shower, followed by a power nap. Then I have to hit the phones.”
“I understand.”
When he eased off the stool and crossed the room, his scent enveloped her. Claire succumbed to a moment of weakness. Sliding her arms around his waist, she leaned against his chest.
“God, you smell good.”
“Do you think so?” One jet-black eyebrow arched. “My staff will no doubt smirk when I arrive home smelling of your perfumed soap. I must bring my own next time. And a shaving kit to leave here.” He scraped a palm across his chin. “Your plastic razor does not do the job on my bristles.”
“Boundaries,” she murmured. “We’ll talk about them later. When we’re not so tired.”
He curled a knuckle under her chin and tipped her face to his. “Yes, querida. We will.”
His mouth brushed hers. The kiss was whisper light, yet made Claire rethink her immediate priorities.
“Now go,” he instructed, “take your nap. I’ll let myself out.”
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