Page 36 of Cast in Shadow
“Special delivery.”
“How?”
“Internet. It’s the latest rage. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”
He snorted. “Do you think that’s smart? Letting people know you’re squatting?”
“Who says I’m squatting? Maybe this is my place.”
“Is it?”
She smiled at him benignly and blinked her eyes rapidly.
He grunted, just as she’d hoped he would. Then, he went to the fridge and foraged, pulling out a carton of fresh eggs, a sweet onion, a bell pepper, and a plate of sliced, baked ham—all recent purchases by a service paid extremely well to provide upon request.
Soon, the air filled with the delicious scents of a hearty omelet and toasted bread as he prepared his own breakfast. There was something incredibly sexy about a man who knew how to cook.
He sat down at the counter next to her. The massive omelet hung over both sides of the plate and smelled fantastic.
She clicked out of the report she’d been looking at and gave him her full attention. It could take hours for T to respond, and curiosity was eroding her patience
“That’s your secret, isn’t it? You’re a world-renowned chef by day and get your thrills by playing badass mercenary on the side.”
He scowled at her. “Playing mercenary?”
“I know it’s not your day job.”
“How do you know that?”
“I just do. So, are you going to tell me? Or shall I keep guessing?”
He chewed thoughtfully, as if considering whether or not to answer. Then he swallowed, drank half the coffee in one go, and said, “I’m a tattoo artist.”
Her eyes roamed over the bits of ink visible on his forearms and chest, filling in the rest from the brief glimpses she’d had when he was shirtless. The pieces were breathtaking, fitted perfectly to the shape of his body. She wondered if he’d designed the tattoos himself.
“Are you any good?”
“Depends on who you ask,” he said with the ghost of a smile.
“I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo.”
“Yeah? Why haven’t you?”
“Too permanent. Too recognizable,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “Especially on a woman. It’s different for guys like you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Guys like me?”
She nodded. “You’d stand out more if you didn’t have tats. You have that whole bad-boy vibe going on, which works for what you do. Hiding in plain sight, if you will. But me? I need to blend in. Working in the bar, yeah, I could get away with a few. But as a library story-time reader, not so much.”
His lips quirked. “Library story-time reader?”
“You’d be surprised by the things I’ve done to stay under the radar,” she said.
He polished off his omelet, then pushed the plate to the side. “Not all tattoos are readily visible,” he said, his eyes dipping suggestively to the parts of her currently covered.
“I suppose not,” she agreed.
“If you did get one, what would you get?”
