Maybe a naked one.
Instead, she zipped her borrowed hoodie up, though it was too tight. It hugged her, too, and flattened her chest like his body had.
Whoa. Definitely don’t think about that.
Yeah, that was . . . not where her brain needed to go, not at all. What had she been thinking? She’d managed to convince herself he hadn’t seen Jia’s text, and now she’d stress over this.
She was almost out of the room when he spoke. She flinched, but his words weren’t about the hug.
“You should turn off your phone for a while. I’ll monitor Twitter.”
“I don’t know . . .”
“How about this? You only look at the tag when you’re around someone. Me, or on the phone with Jia or Rhiannon.” His tone softened when she faced him. “I don’t want you to be upset when you’re alone. I don’t think it’s healthy to watch something develop in real time like that.”
Yesterday’s all-day computer binge hadn’t been healthy. Plus, she had come here to get away from everyone. She capitulated, and if she did it a little quicker than she normally did because she wanted to get both of their minds off of that hug, that was between herself and God. “Okay. Deal.”
She’d grab her computer and get to work, as he’d suggested, running on some semblance of her schedule. Real work, not monitoring the actions of strangers on the internet.
She pressed her hands over her warm cheeks as she walked up the stairs, trying to shake off the sensation of that hug.
Maybe he didn’t say anything because he likes you, and doesn’t mind your hugs or the prospect of you considering him hot.
She stopped, her pulse increasing, treacherous evil hope sprouting in her heart.
No, don’t do this. How odd. Rarely did she have to counter positive thoughts.
Only this one was toxic positivity, bad for her in the long run. Hope this big and fresh would turn her inside out. Her romantic heart would take everything he did and said as a new spark of interest, and then when it came out that it was all nothing, where would she be?
Find something to kill it. Get rid of the hope.
She scrambled for her phone and hesitated on Rhiannon’s name. Rhiannon was the most cynical person she knew, but telling her about this would result in so many questions. Plus, Rhiannon wouldn’t truly crush her dreams.
She firmed her lips. She’d have to do it herself. Tell herself that it was nothing.
There. That sounded convincing.
It was nothing.
Chapter Ten
JAS SQUINTED AT the dying sun. The afternoon had turned out warmer than the morning, but it was now cooling in the early evening. The scent in the air, of grass and trees, was fresh and familiar.
It was good to get outside. He’d spent the day on his computer in the living room, while Katrina split her time between her bedroom and the kitchen, seemingly content.
Is it cold? Is the place nice? Is your hot bodyguard keeping your body warm?
He closed his eyes, but Jia’s text was emblazoned on the back of his eyelids too. His face flushed, the way it had wanted to when he’d read the thing.
He would have turned red from Jia calling him hot, but the rest of that sentence . . .
Jia being Jia.
Him keeping Katrina warm surely wasn’t a common topic of conversation between the women. Surely she wasn’t eager to have him . . . keeping her body warm?
She did hug you.
He placed his hand on his chest, where he could still feel the imprint of her body. It shouldn’t have rocked him so much. His parents were huggers, his grandmother, his little brother too. He wasn’t lacking for physical affection in his life.
Except for physical affection from Katrina. That had never really happened.
Nope, nope, nope. What he wasn’t going to do was read interest into these small signs. That way lay disaster.
Jia’s text had been a result of her usual outrageous sense of humor, and Katrina’s hug had been nothing but a friend’s display of gratitude.
That was the interpretation that had allowed him to spend the day buried in work, sorting out a tangled mess of a security system for a new start-up Katrina had invested in recently. It was a messaging app, and Jas had been disappointed but not surprised by its lax protocols. A Russian infant could have hacked it in about three minutes.
Consulting on these businesses was one of his least favorite parts of the job, second only to writing the reports recommending his fixes. He’d much rather get in there and build the systems than tell other people how to do it.
In between his work, and keeping an ear out for Katrina, he’d kept tabs on social media. He glanced at his phone, where Twitter lay wide open, exposing the bane of his existence. He didn’t know how he was going to break this latest development to Katrina. She would freak out, and rightfully so.
He glared at RossAlwaysWins’s tweet. Can’t wait to share this budding romance with the world tomorrow! Catch me on Good Morning Live at 8 a.m. with @BeccaTheNose.
Wasn’t the British royal family doing anything amazing this week that GML could cover instead? How had these two fools managed national TV coverage by making up lies about a woman who hadn’t even come forward yet?
Budding romance, his ass.
His phone rang in his hand, signaling the call he’d come outside to take, lest Katrina hear. Lorne had texted him earlier, asking if he was free. Which he appreciated, though that 202 area code still made him anxious.
He swallowed and answered. “Jas.”
“Hey, man.” Lorne’s voice was low and calm, as it had been years ago when they’d served together. “How’s everything going?”
He glanced at the trees, where two of Lorne’s guards sat in a well-concealed vehicle. “Not bad. Thanks for getting me the security on such short notice.”
“Not a problem. Surveillance is a pretty plum assignment. I got two more headed your way, they’ll stay in a nearby hotel when they’re not on the property. Eight-hour shifts. You won’t even know they’re there unless you need them.”
“Sounds perfect.”
He could imagine Lorne in her cushy D.C. office, short red hair tousled, freckles standing out on her pale skin. “How are you doing?” she asked.
“Good.” Jas paused. “Heard anything?”
Lorne didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Yeah. A reporter contacted me. Said the pardon is basically a done deal. This week, most likely.” Lorne made a disgusted noise. “What I want to know is, if it is so certain, why aren’t the official sources contacting us?”
“I don’t know,” he said, trying to minimize the bitterness spilling over onto the words. Because the official sources don’t care about us. They used us until we were useless and then tossed us out, even while paying lip service to the ideals we were told we served. Jas had been prepared for some people to spurn him and Lorne when they’d accused McGuire. He hadn’t expected McGuire to have way more supporters, powerful supporters, than they did. That the man had been convicted at all was a shocker.
“Well, I’ve put in some calls. You know, I was prepared when we had to testify for McGuire’s parole hearing, for all the good that did. But a pardon?”
Lorne was right. A pardon was egregious, a mockery of the toll it had taken for a bunch of twentysomethings to hold one of their own accountable.