Dear god, not him, too.
My scowl sends him hurrying away into the kitchen.
I try to turn my attention to all the things that need to be done, the phone calls and meetings and strategy planning. But all I can think about is the green-eyed demon in my bed, wearing my clothes, lying underneath my body, smiling at me.
Rubbing away the tension in my shoulders with surprisingly strong hands.
Saying softly, “Good?”
I have to get her out of this house before my dick makes me do something stupid.
In a life full of unforgiveable sins, sleeping with the enemy would be the absolute worst.
11
Sloane
I’m trying to decide what smartass thing to text Declan when Kieran returns, carrying another tray.
He sets it on the coffee table next to the one with all the junk. When he straightens, he clears his throat. “Here’s yer…” He glances at the tray, grimacing. “Food.”
“Oh, great. Thank you. Mmm, wheat grass. And you found the Lacinato kale!”
“I can’t take the credit. Tommy did the shopping.”
“That’s okay. You brought it in. I appreciate it.”
He looks at me. He looks back at the tray. “Ye really gonna eat that?”
“It’s super good. Full of vitamins. Want to try some?”
“Looks like lawn clippings.”
“No, it’s really yummy. I promise. You probably wouldn’t like it raw, though. That takes a bit of getting used to. But I could cook you some. Sautéed with a little garlic and olive oil, it’s divine.”
He stares at me with a strange expression. I can’t tell if he’s horrified or stunned.
“Maybe Declan would let me use the kitchen. I love to cook. I could make some food for all you guys, the whole crew. When was the last time you had a home-cooked meal?”
Kieran opens his mouth, thinks a moment, then closes it.
“I knew it. Listen, see if you can get Declan to agree to let me into the kitchen, and I’ll get you sorted, okay? And if he says no, just tell him that you and I have an agreement. You remember, from the plane? If you need me to do something, just ask me. Your boss likes to bark orders all over the place, and that’s really not my thing, but you and I are copacetic.”
“Copa…”
“It means we’re friends.”
He couldn’t look more astonished if he tried. “We are?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
“Right. So if Declan says I can’t go into the kitchen because there are knives in there and he thinks I’ll attack him with a cleaver, you can just ask me to hand them over and there won’t be any more knives. Or whatever. That’s just an example. My point being that I’ll honor your requests, because I know you’ll put them to me politely. With respect. Right?”
“Uh…right.”
He has no idea what’s happening. Honestly, there’s nothing more adorable than a befuddled man. Especially when they’re huge and armed.
I smile, thank him again, and lead him to the door. He exits in a fog of uncertainty.
Twenty minutes later, just as I’m finishing up my meal, Declan storms in.
He snaps, “What have you done to Kieran?”
“Moi?” I say innocently.
“Aye, you.”
“Whatever can you mean?”
He looks suspicious at my tone of wounded surprise. “I mean he came into this room working for me, and he went out of it working for you. He suddenly thinks he’s your goddamn butler!”
“I prefer the term majordomo.”
Declan narrows his eyes. “Don’t push your luck, lass.”
“Oh, don’t get your panties in a bunch, gangster. I just told him I’d like to cook for him is all. Can you blame the guy for wanting to have a home-cooked meal?”
When he stands there silently, glaring at me in outrage, I add, “I think he needs someone to look after him. I’m guessing his blood pressure isn’t what it should be, either.”
I can almost see Declan’s hair falling out, strand by strand.
I smile at him. “Any updates on the clothes I needed? I’d kill for a pair of lululemons right now.”
He mutters, “You probably shouldn’t mention the word ‘kill’ at the moment.”
God, it’s so satisfying getting under his skin. It might be my new favorite thing. My smile grows wider. “You know what I think?”
“Whatever you’re going to say, don’t.”
“I think you just wanted an excuse to come back in here and see me.”
“And I think calling you an idiot would be giving you far too much credit.”
I laugh. “Good one. How long did it take you to figure out how to use the internet to look that up, Grandpa?”
“Your parents are brother and sister, aren’t they?”
“Oh, look, we finally have something in common!”
His face turns red. His hands curl to fists at his sides. He stands there staring at me in unblinking, silent fury, breathing hard and gritting his teeth even harder.
I’ve finally done it. Declan is about to drop dead from rage.
I stand, wipe my hands on a napkin, and cross to him. Looking up into his angry face, I say, “I’d like to show you a trick that might help you cope when you’re in stressful situations.”
“And I’d like to show you the inside of a dungeon, but we can’t always get what we want.”
“Be quiet for a minute, gangster.”
“You first.”
That makes me roll my eyes. “I’m trying to be helpful here.”
“I didn’t need any help until I met you.”
My smile is sweet. “You mean kidnapped me. As I was saying, a trick.”
I draw a slow breath for a count of four, hold it for a count of four, exhale for a count of four, then wait to draw another breath until I’ve counted to four.
He watches me with a look of disgust. “Congratulations. You know how to hold your breath. It will come in handy after I’ve put the cement shoes on your feet and thrown you into the harbor.”
“No, silly, I’m breathing in squares! My dad taught me how to do it.”
“Your father had to teach you how to breathe? What a surprise. Pity he didn’t put a pillow over your face first.”
I give him a smack on his rock-hard biceps. “Will you listen to me?”
“I am. That’s the problem.”
“Box breathing is something he learned in the Navy. It’s an excellent way to calm your nervous system and focus your mind. Try it. We can do it together.”
“I’d rather be burned alive.”
“Oh, come on! I swear, it works.”
I lift my arms wide and make a big show of inhaling. Declan mutters some kind of voodoo curse. I hold the breath, making googly eyes at him, and he groans. When I exhale, I slowly drop my arms to the silent count in my head. He’s looking at the ceiling, sighing.
“You’re like cancer. Only not as fun.”
I poke him in the chest with a finger. “Just try it. I didn’t think you were the hyperventilating kind, but I’m starting to think I was wrong.”