thought about taking a chance tonight, attempting to flirt. A relationship with him wasn’t possible, but imagining things taking an R-rated turn was like staring at some ripe fruit hanging on the vine. She’d listened to the girls around her in school whisper about what they did with their boyfriends. She’d read enough romance novels to know how sexy those things could be. And now she’d spent a week listening to Donovan’s voice and the fantasies he’d penned. She’d never gotten a taste of that kind of physical connection with a guy and now she wanted a big bite.
But she’d be delusional to believe that he looked at her the same way. The guy was a man on a mission. His love was his work, and he was only interested in talking with her because she was helping with his research. She needed to keep that in her head.
She checked her phone for the time as she walked down the hall. Donovan’s door was shut. She was here early. She’d been so ready to get out of the house after the argument with her mother that she hadn’t even noticed. But seeing his door closed, it hit her that he might not even come in tonight. It was Saturday, after all, and they hadn’t made firm plans. Why had she assumed he’d be here? Just because it was a big, exciting event in her mind didn’t mean it’d even hit his radar. He was probably out on a date or at a party or having a beer with friends. Disappointment moved through her like a cold gust of wind. What if she’d gone through that whole drama at home just to sit here alone tonight?
She sighed. Par for the course. She could at least drop off her notes. And maybe he’d come in later.
She gave his door a little tap just in case and then turned the knob when there was no answer. The old heavy door creaked open, and the dark office greeted her. The scent of books and something faintly spicy filled her nose. She felt around for the light switch, but when she flipped it, nothing happened. She let out a frustrated breath and carefully made her way to the desk to find the lamp. When she grabbed hold of the chain and clicked it on, a startled noise sounded behind her.
Her hand flew to her chest and she yelped, banging into the desk and dropping her notebook and everything else she’d been carrying.
A groan. “Jesus, Mari. You scared the hell out of me.”
Marin whirled around to find Donovan stretched out on the worn couch—his dark hair a mess, his eyes puffy, and his chest … bare. Oh. My. She wet her lips, trying not to stare. But that was like expecting the clock on the wall not to tick. He looked like hell. And gorgeous. And very, very male—all sprawled out and sleep rumpled. There was no way she was going to be able to convince her eyes to focus on something else. A bomb could go off behind her and not turn her gaze. “Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were here. I was just dropping off notes.”
He gripped the blanket that covered him from the waist down. “What time is it?”
“I’m early. It’s not quite ten.”
“Fuck.” He ran a hand over his face. “I didn’t think you were coming in tonight.”
Her gaze alighted on the folded clothes on the nearby chair, on the takeout container on top of the fridge, on the opened bottle of whiskey next to it. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up from your … catnap?”
She didn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but what she saw said something very different from a nap caught between too many hours of research. Now the fact that he was always here, always working late when no one else was made sense.
He sat up and reached out to grab his T-shirt without meeting her eyes. He pulled it over his head, covering all that lean, sinewy muscle. “I stay overnight here sometimes. Dr. Paxton knows.”
“I—Okay.” She clamped her lips shut. She wasn’t going to be one of those people who asked questions that weren’t her place to ask. She wasn’t going to ask why he slept here even though he seemed to have money—designer jeans, fancy laptop. And she wasn’t going to ask why it looked like he’d been crying. And drinking. Alone.
Donovan pushed the blanket away, revealing a pair of wrinkled jeans and bare feet. “I didn’t think you’d be die-hard enough to work on a Saturday night. You’ve got to have some place more interesting to be.”
She backed away to the other side of the desk to give him space—to give her space. Last thing she needed was for her blushing affliction to start up. “I, uh, still have a lot of stuff to wrap up before Professor Roberts gets back.”
He frowned and slipped socks on. “I’m sorry. I’m sure helping me has put you behind. You need me to pitch in? I’m fast at data entry.”
“Uh, it’s okay. I’ll be fine. You can get some rest. I won’t bother you.”
“You’re not—” He grimaced and shook his head. “You’re not bothering me. I just—I wasn’t expecting company tonight.”
“Are you okay?” The question slipped out before she could stop it.
“I’m fine.” The words were like a whip snapped.
She winced at the stinging impact.
He blew out a breath and looked up at her, weariness in those blue eyes. “Sorry. I’m—It’s just been a shit day.”
She shifted on her feet, not sure what to do with this version of the normally upbeat guy she’d gotten to know. He looked like he could use a hug, but she didn’t like random people giving her those, so she wouldn’t assume that he’d be cool with that either. Plus, she’d probably pant or drool on him or something, being that close. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Distraction’d be good. Wanna get drunk with me?”
She glanced at the whiskey bottle. “I don’t drink.”
His brows went up. “Ever?”
“Not my thing.” No way was she testing her genes with a big heaping dose of mood-altering substances. “Maybe another kind of distraction?”
“Wanna fuck?”
The question zipped right up her spine, making her straighten and almost taking her feet out from under her. She hadn’t meant her question that way, but now she realized how what she’d said must’ve sounded. “Uh …”
Donovan turned away with a groan. “Shit. Just fucking ignore me. I might still be drunk. I didn’t mean to say that.”
Her mouth was dry, her heart knocking hard against her ribs. She ached to go to him, put her arms around him, make whatever had beat him down today go away. To say, Yes, let’s do that thing you said. Right now. But all she could do was stand like a damn statue in the half-lit room and say, “It’s all right.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s the opposite of all right.”
She should leave. Let him deal with whatever was bothering him in private. But she couldn’t make her feet move. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Donovan went about folding the blanket he’d tossed on the couch, his movements tense. One. Two. Three. He folded sharp lines into the soft quilt. She thought he was going to ignore her completely, but then finally, he spoke. “My parents were killed in a home invasion last year.”
Her heart plummeted
