Page 19 of The Perfect Deception
He raised an eyebrow. “I live here. The question is, what are you doing here?”
She looked around. The color of her creamy skin deepened like an overripe peach. “I must have fallen asleep.”
Holding out a hand to her, he helped her up. “Come on upstairs.”
“No, I need to go home.”
“You haven’t told me why you’re here.” He steered her toward the elevator.
“I came to apologize. But you weren’t home, so I waited. Now you’re back. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”
Adam pressed the button on the elevator and held the door while waving her inside. “I’m not sure exactly what you’re sorry for. If anyone should apologize, it’s me.”
She leaned against the wall and angled her head until she could make eye contact with him. “You were upset. I should have tried to help you.”
He froze, key poised to unlock his door. How the hell did this woman read him so clearly? And more importantly, how could he stop it? “It was no big deal.”
“Yes it was.”
He folded his arms across his chest and turned to her, nostrils flaring as all of his previous fears came rushing back. “How the hell would you know?”
“Anyone who knows you could tell.”
What the hell was she talking about?
“I can tell you’re still upset, even now.”
“No, I’m just annoyed by a woman who was camping out in my lobby.” He should have left her there.
“Right.” She didn’t look convinced. After a few moments of silence, she sighed and stayed in the elevator. “It’s late, I need to go. Goodnight.”
It was two o’clock in the morning. She was barely awake. “Please,” he said. He ushered her to his door. “Come inside.”
“Your apartment?”
“Yeah.”
“Now?”
He looked around. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
He rubbed a hand down his face. “Because it’s too late for you to go home alone and I’m in no shape to drive you.” Not waiting for her to argue, he put an arm around her shoulders and steered her inside. She fit well in the crook of his arm, all soft and warm. He searched his brain for a reason to keep his arm there. But apparently his brain was even more tired than usual, because he couldn’t come up with a single one. And he called himself a red-blooded male. “Sit down,” he said and pointed to the black leather sofa in his living room.
She sat, back straight, perched on the edge, as if she were afraid of…he didn’t know what. Not him, right? She didn’t know about the harassment claims, so there was no reason for her to be afraid of him. But she looked uncomfortable.
He left her sitting in his living room and went to the linen closet. Grabbing an extra blanket and pillow, he returned to her and pointed toward the hallway.
“My bedroom is down there. You can sleep in my bed.”
She frowned. His finger itched to trace the crease in between her eyebrows. Hell, his whole body itched to touch any of her. Instead, he squeezed the linens in his arms.
“With you?”
God he wished he could say yes. “No, I’ll sleep here.”
“Why?”