Page 50 of The Blonde Who Came in from the Cold
“Mission o’clock. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”
He was shimmying into those shorts. They were disappearing up beneath the towel. Because... right.
Towel.
Chest.
Skin.
So much very warm, very wet skin stretched tight over oh-so-many muscles and...
Michael Kingsley was ripped. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. She’d seen him fight and run and lift. She’d known him for years, but had she? Because she’d never thought he was an ab guy. Maybe an “I eat a balanced diet because my body is a temple” guy but definitely not a “Someday I might need to go undercover as an underwear model” guy.
“Yo. Sterling.”
“Did you just...” Alex blinked hard, not quite appreciating the irony thatthatwas the thing that woke her. “Did you just say ‘yo’?”
“We need to find a way to the other side of the island.”
He was sliding on that white linen shirt, rolling up the sleeves and... Yeah. What was she thinking again?
And then he was... close. And there. He wasjust right there, sitting down and leaning close with something like worry in his eyes as he asked her, “Are you okay?”
She wasn’t okay. She’d slept so hard, she’d actually forgotten where she was—she’d actually forgottenwhoshe was.
She was someone who hated Michael Kingsley.
“Of course. I just...”
She turned to face the windows and the sunrise and the sea.
“I did it, too.” Even after she’d processed the words, she didn’t really understand them. The voice was very soft and very close, and it sounded like confession feels.
“What?”
He didn’t even bother to look guilty. “I slept.”
Oh. That.It should have felt comforting, knowing the Great Michael Kingsley had done the same thing. Maybe it was okay to be human.This time.So Alex pushed her hair out of her eyes and choked out, “Professional hazard. Won’t happen again.”
“Of course it will.” The bed shifted as he rose. She wanted to wheel on him and shout, but he was already walking away, tossing over his shoulder, “Because, like it or not, you feel safe with me, Sterling. Youaresafe. And, like it or not, I’m safe with you, too.”
He was right about one thing.
Alex didn’t like it one bit.
***
Fifteen minutes later, Alex was out of the bathroom and pulling on some shoes and rushing to catch up to the figure who was disappearing down the winding path. “Where are you going?” Alex darted out in front of him.
The sun was up and the air felt warm and sweet. Birds were singing in the trees, and it sounded like a white noise app—because, in Alex’s world, even the birds were an illusion, and she didn’t know what to make of it, the realization that her fake husband was the only thing on that island she could count on.
“Where do youthinkI’m—”
“Good morning, Cupids!” Flora appeared on the path ahead of them.
“Good morning,” King said back.
“Did my lovers sleep well?”
