Page 33 of The Agent
Growing up, he’d been guided by a sense of justice, going into drug enforcement because it was the only way he knew to find some sort of vengeance for his mother’s death. He lived his life by a code of honor. There was a distinct line between right and wrong.
But Marley was blurring that line. His body ached at the feel of Marley snuggled up close to him. He listened to her breathing grow steady, felt her muscles loosen with slumber, and as he lay there beside her, he realized she was far more dangerous than he’d given her credit for.
CHAPTER 8
MARLEY WOKE UPthe next morning with a smile on her face and a naked man in her bed. Caleb was sound asleep beside her, lying on his stomach with one strong arm flung over her belly. Her smile widened. God, he was breathtaking. His stubble-covered cheek rested against the pillow, his dark hair messy and falling onto his proud forehead. And his face lost all of its hard edges in slumber. He looked peaceful, younger.
Trying not to wake him, she moved his arm and slid out of bed. Then she walked into the washroom, heading for the small shower stall. A jolt of pain hit her big toe.
“Shoot,” she muttered, noticing that one of the tiles was loose. Good thing she was planning on retiling after she finished painting.
She opened the glass door of the shower stall, and as she turned the faucet and adjusted the temperature, she realized she was actually pretty sore. A slight ache between her legs, but one she was willing to overlook because last night had been totally worth it. She stepped into the shower and dunked her head under the hot spray, then turned to let the water slide down her body.
Her muscles sighed with relief as the water pounded against them. She was on her feet nearly every day of the week and did yoga regularly, but one night with the talented Caleb Ford had completely wiped her out. It had never been like that with anyone, not even Patrick.
The smile on her face faded as the memory of the last man she’d been with pushed its way into her head and the implicationof what she’d done settled over her. Was she crazy? After what had happened with Patrick, she’d vowed to be more cautious, and yet she’d just slept with a man she’d known for less than a week.
She slowly lathered her skin with strawberry-scented body wash, forcing her mind to quit over analyzing. It was just sex. Really great sex. Wasn’t like she’d gotten engaged to the man.
Shutting off the faucet, she toweled off and left the bathroom, slipped into a pair of denim shorts and a red tank, and turned her attention to the man on the bed.
He was wide awake, and sporting a very familiar expression on his face.
The same shuttered stare he’d donned yesterday when he’d told her sleeping together wasn’t a good idea.
“I’m going to make some breakfast,” she announced. “Do you like pancakes?”
“I love them,” he said quietly.
“Good. They’ll be ready by the time you come down.”
She headed downstairs, trying to forget about how stiff his shoulders had looked. Maybe he simply wasn’t a morning person. Like her brother—Sam could be a total ass before he had his morning coffee.
When Caleb walked into the kitchen ten minutes later, his hair damp from the shower and his blue eyes alert, she handed him a cup of freshly brewed coffee.
“Thanks.” He took it gratefully, and sipped the hot liquid.
Marley moved back to the stove and flipped a pancake, wishing he wasn’t being so distant. It was easy to pick up on the waves of tension rolling off him. Finally she turned to him and asked, “Everything okay?”
He didn’t speak for a moment, just headed to the kitchen table and lowered his big body onto a chair. A line of indecisioncreased his forehead, and when he opened his mouth, she got the feeling she wouldn’t like what he said.
“I’m fine. Just tired,” he said with a shrug.
“Well, hopefully these will help.” She turned off the burner, then walked over to the table and placed a plate loaded with pancakes in front of him.
Almost instantly, his expression perked up. She suppressed a grin. Men and their stomachs.
He inhaled the delicious aroma of blueberries and buttermilk, and groaned. “You neglected to mention you could cook like this.”
“I only do breakfast,” she clarified as she sat across the table. “For some reason it’s all I can manage. Lunch and dinner? I’m lucky I haven’t burned down the kitchen yet.”
Caleb chuckled. “Thank God for that.”
She picked up her knife and fork and cut her pancake in half, then fourths, then eighths. She noticed Caleb watching her in amusement as she finally brought a bite-size piece to her lips.
“You cut it up in advance?” he said with a laugh.
She finished chewing and shot him an indignant look. “It’s all ready to eat that way. No wasting time after each bite.”
