and dampening her desire to argue. Right now she wanted a hot bath and a large glass of denial. Tomorrow she would formulate a plan.
Heading into her bedroom, she stepped over the scattered papers and spilled lingerie. The scent of her mother’s perfume hung in the air, a dense cloud of memory. Green flowers, a slight sharpness from the aldehydes. Chanel No.19, the only perfume her mother had ever worn. Through the days when they’d had very little money, she’d savored it, using only a single spritz for a special occasion, stretching the bottle because she couldn’t afford a new one. The scent made Rose’s eyes fill with tears.
Desperate for distraction, she grabbed a small suitcase and unzipped it. In her head she ran through the items she would need for a night away, cataloging them to prevent herself from thinking about how badly her life had been violated.
“T-shirt, jeans, underwear, deodorant,” she muttered, folding and stacking the items neatly into the bag. “Bra, hairbrush, cardigan...”
Max leaned against the door frame, keeping his distance but watching her closely. His large shoulders all but filled the space and she couldn’t help but allow her eyes to skim over the way his jeans fitted his thighs so snugly. They fitted rather snugly over some other areas, too.
She swallowed and redirected her attention to her overnight bag.
He was a total beefcake, no doubt one of those guys who thought time at the gym was a top priority in life. He wasn’t her type at all, though she had to admit the Australian accent was damn easy on the ears. But she preferred arty guys with trimmed beards and slender fingers, the kind of guys who would appreciate her work for its beauty and artistry, not those who would label it frivolous. So why did her gaze gravitate to Max at every opportunity?
You need the distraction, that’s all. He’s hot and you’re trying not to dwell on how the hell you ended up in this mess. Totally normal behavior.
“Hurry up.” Max’s deep baritone broke through her internal monologue. “The quicker we get you out of here the better.”
Rose looked up, her stomach flipping over at his serious expression. She wouldn’t feel scared. Years of fending for herself had to be worth something. She could manage it. No big deal.
Max’s voice was cool, but he stared at her with an intensity that said he wasn’t as calm as he acted. Never mind the way he drummed his fingers against the door frame.
“Okay, okay,” she muttered, dragging the zipper closed.
She set the suitcase on the ground and slipped her feet into a pair of flats. The nightstand and dressing table were covered in jewelry. The music box her mother had given her was shut, but the vintage earrings she usually kept inside were scattered around it. Clearly the non-thief had taken a peek inside. Her fingertips brushed a lonely gold earring with a vibrant green stone in the center. Its twin had fallen onto the carpet. She bent down and picked it up.
“Come on.” Max’s hand touched her shoulder. She hadn’t even heard him step into the room. His scent filled her nostrils, the warm masculine earthiness curling inside her, tightening all the places that should not have been working right now.
Focus on him, not on the fact that someone has been in your house. Hottie, good. Stalker, bad.
They trudged out of the apartment, her eyes immediately locking onto Max’s ass as she followed him. He wore a short jacket, his arms wrapped around his body to keep himself warm. The man wore jeans as though they’d been designed exactly to highlight the delicious muscles in his legs. He exuded strength and control. She’d bet her favorite pendant that there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him.
“Where are we going?” she asked, stepping out into the night air and turning to lock the door behind her.
It felt a little pointless since the lock hadn’t kept her house safe before. She set the alarm from a home security app on her phone. Now that she thought about it, the app hadn’t alerted her to an intruder earlier. That could only mean that whoever had broken into her house either knew her alarm code or had been able to disarm the supposedly top-notch technology. She wasn’t sure which of those two options was worse.
“We’re going to a hotel.” Max’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and he motioned for her to follow him.
He unlocked his car, a nondescript gunmetal gray sedan that was probably chosen for the fact that no one would ever remember it, and held the passenger door for her. She made a mental note to tell him later about the security app and slid onto the seat.
“But you said you didn’t want me staying alone. Does room service now offer security detail?” she asked as he climbed into the driver’s seat.
He cleared his throat. “I’ll be staying with you, of course.”
His words were music to her ears. The idea of being cooped up alone in a hotel room was thoroughly depressing since she’d done it a thousand times before. Some people loved having a room and king-size bed to themselves. For Rose, it was a reminder of how little love she had in her life.
Ugh, enough with the woe-is-me thoughts. You can have a pity party later when no one is around to witness it.
Luckily she had something to take her mind off the break-in, off her strained relationship and unrelenting distrust of her father. Max was exactly what she needed to get out of her funk.
He started the car and headed slowly down her street, his features set as hard as stone. Max was good-looking if you liked ruggedly handsome, unshaven guys with jawlines sharp enough to carve a Thanksgiving turkey. Honesty, who wouldn’t like that?
His dark hair was slightly too long to be fashionable, and the perma-scowl he wore did nothing to highlight his naturally full lips, though she was sure she could coax those bad boys out of their flat line. She had just the activity to put them to better use...
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of serious?” she said, her voice just saccharine enough that he would realize she was tugging his strings.
“Would you want someone charged with your protection to be anything but serious?” He raised a brow but didn’t move his eyes from the road.
“I get it. You have an important job. But I have the feeling you’d be superserious even if the situation didn’t call for it.” She tapped a fingertip to her lower lip, studying him openly. “Like you’d have the same facial expression even if you were scrambling eggs.”
“I poach my eggs. It requires a lot of concentration.” Not a single muscle twitched on his face.
“Remind me to take you along next time I play Texas Hold ’em.” She stretched in her seat, arching her spine and pushing out her chest to see if he would look. He didn’t.
“I don’t gamble.”
“You don’t play poker or scramble your eggs? Gee, what do you do for fun?”
He didn’t answer her question. Silence filled the car and Rose fiddled with the buckle on her seat belt. She would kill for some music right now, even the incessant honking of cabs. Anything. Silence was her enemy.
“You don’t like me very much, do you?” she asked.
That
