hadn’t yet been retired or caught had brought Boone, as Richard Becker, into the circle that Darryl ran and worked. And Darryl was his only key to finding Gurza.
As he came fully awake, Boone realized he was warm. Very nicely, unusually warm. Jayne was using his chest as a pillow. Her head rested over his heart, and one arm was draped around him. She breathed deeply and evenly, and had thrown the covers off so the sheet was partially twisted around both of them. Most of the green comforter had fallen off the foot of the bed.
He should think of Jayne as nothing more than a nuisance. That was all she was. She had stumbled onto something ugly, and in doing so she’d complicated an already difficult job. That aside, Jayne Barrington was everything he didn’t like in a woman. Petite. Classy. Spoiled. Prudish. Rich. Dainty.
It was this make-believe relationship, he supposed, that made him occasionally look at her and wish that some of what he pretended was real.
He touched Jayne’s red-gold curls and gently shifted her head. Comfy as this was, it definitely wasn’t a good idea. “Wake up, sugar,” he whispered.
She murmured against his chest, wriggled a little and didn’t wake up.
His physical reaction to finding a half-dressed, pretty woman clinging to him in the morning, especially when he hadn’t had sex in months, was completely natural, he was certain. Perfectly understandable. Somehow he had to get this woman off him. Now.
“Jayne,” he said a little more loudly, patting her on the back this time.
She stirred finally, lifting her head to look him in the eye, whispering, “Yee…,” before coming fully awake.
Realizing where she was, Jayne rolled quickly away. “How dare you?” she asked in that prim voice she used when she was really annoyed.
“Pardon me, miss priss, but you will notice that I’m on my side of the bed and have been all night.”
She had no argument for that.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said as he left the bed. “You probably just got cold.” Or lonely. “No big deal.”
“Sorry,” she said softly.
Darryl was probably already up and about. Maybe the boys, too. He really should grab the headboard and shake the bed and tease Jayne until she squealed. But he couldn’t. No way. Not now. He grabbed his pistol from the bedside table and stood. “I’m going to take a shower.” A cold one. “Lock the door behind me. Don’t let anyone in but me.”
“Don’t worry,” she muttered.
Once he was in the hallway, he listened until he heard the lock turn. He knew Jayne wouldn’t open that door to anyone but him, but still he rushed through his shower. One way to get his mind off inappropriate speculation was to get his mind back on business.
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