Only for the Night (If Only Book 2) (4 page)

Oblivious to the drama he’d caused, Knight settled onto his belly there in the middle of the hall, happily munching away on his prize. Hank opened his mouth to reprimand the dog, to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, maybe to call the woman’s name—only to realize he still had no clue who the stranger in his house actually was.

And he had to know, because
da-yam
, that body. That ass.

Those eyes.

Maybe he wasn’t as tired as he’d thought he was.

Sage leaned against the closed and locked bedroom door, a hand clamped over her mouth in a desperate attempt to keep a hysterical laugh inside. Oh God, Hank Nash. So-much-sexier-in-person Hank Nash.
Just-saw-me-naked
Hank Nash.

Talk about a first impression. She squeezed her eyes shut remembering the brief glimpse of Hank’s face before she’d run for cover.

Nope, she was never leaving this bedroom again.

Come on. You’ve bared it all in front of complete strangers before, at Heathers.

The reminder shut her laughter off like a faucet. Yes, she had, but this wasn’t the same thing. She bet her entire body was blushing. There was a special kind of hell that burned a woman when she made a complete fool of herself in front of a devastatingly attractive man. Hank wasn’t just devastatingly attractive; he defined the words.

And that’s when the shock hit her. Her eyelids popped open. She’d noticed. Hank was attractive, and she’d noticed. And she’d laughed, an honest-to-God—if slightly hysterical—laugh. It had been so long since she’d laughed.

A finger traced along her mouth found a curve. She was smiling.

And naked. Don’t forget naked, Sage.

She was also late. A quick look at the clock jumpstarted her across the room to her suitcase to retrieve clothes.

Hank was home. A sigh escaped as she pulled on underwear and a bra. Why couldn’t he have been old? Ugly? On time, for heaven’s sake? Alice had told her he was expected back in two weeks. Of course, she’d also said she would be sure and tell him that Sage was sleeping in his guest bedroom, which obviously hadn’t been the truth, so why should she be surprised that he was here at the ass crack of dawn fourteen days before he was supposed to roll back into town?

And why did he own the hound from hell?

She didn’t have to think about that long. All she had to do was think about Hank’s face, that sexy smirk, and she knew the two males shared the same sense of humor. Both dog and master had been toying with her, damn them.

Another muffled laugh escaped.

A suit of steel-plated armor would’ve suited her better today, but that wouldn’t have fit in her suitcase. If it was winter, she could’ve worn a parka.

You don’t own a parka, smart-ass.

She stuck her tongue out at herself and grabbed a thin summer dress. It would have to do. Her socks and tennis shoes didn’t provide a shield so much as practical protection—and cushion—in the kitchen. Feeling like she needed about ten more layers, she stepped over to the mirror above her dresser and pulled her hair back from her face. Dusted on some powder. It took about ten minutes and the glaring hands of her clock reminding her how late she was before she could convince herself to go to the bedroom door.

The chill of the doorknob against her palm shot a tingle of adrenaline along her nerves, but she managed to turn the thing anyway. Cracked the door.

Relief filled her: The hallway was clear. No dog. No big guy with a shaved head and shoulders that took up all the breathing space in the room. Easing the door open, she double-checked before stepping out of the safety of her room.

The expectant silence filling the apartment weighed on her as she moved down the dim hallway. Was Hank in the kitchen? His bedroom?

No thinking about Mr. Sexy in his bedroom, Sage. Don’t make this any harder than it already is.

The horrible pun rang in her head, but she fought the urge to giggle—and shake her head at herself. Numb for weeks, and now here she was, giggling and laughing and practically swooning at the feet of the first attractive man she encountered in her new home. Pitiful.

The kitchen was also empty. Where had they gone?

Who cared? This wasn’t
Mission Impossible
. She shouldn’t be sneaking out like she’d stolen her way in in the first place. She had a job to do, and she better get her butt in gear and go do it.

The haste with which she scrambled across the open room was a bit embarrassing, but if it meant she escaped without notice, she was fine with that. Besides, it felt a little like pulling one over on her tormenters. Call her petty, but she couldn’t deny her smirk as she sneaked out the door.

Dawn was a light barely cresting on the horizon as she made her way down the creaky stairs and around to the bakery door. The scent of warm bread and sugar was fresh, telling her Alice and Merry were already at work. Two more weeks, Alice had said. Hank wouldn’t be back for two more weeks, and he wouldn’t mind her staying in the apartment guest room. Sage had been so busy learning her way around her new business, Citrus Pointe Market, that she hadn’t worried about finding someplace permanent to live. Alice had a lot of explaining to do.

Heaving open the heavy oak door that led into the kitchen at the back of the store, Sage was hit with a rush of sweet and spicy air. The familiarity of it settled over her like a warm blanket. She’d been a five-star pastry chef in LA, but her kitchen at LesMiz had never fit her as well as this one did. And the people hadn’t welcomed her near as affectionately. Alice had approached her a mere month ago about the possibility of buying the market, and now Sage couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. Here, in this rustic space that didn’t even aspire to five-star status, she’d gone from a woman who struggled just to breathe, who’d lost everything but her skill in the kitchen, to a woman who was needed, wanted. Who could even smile and laugh, if this morning was anything to go by. And the majority of that change was due to the two women already busy at the long stainless steel counters that ran the length of the center of the room.

Alice, about-to-be ex-owner of the market, smoothed out cinnamon rolls in one area, the large mounds of dough reluctantly yielding to her rolling pin. Merry, Alice’s right-hand woman, was working bread dough while several bowls of something plump and gooey rested beneath plastic wrap at the far end of the counter. Always busy, these two.

Sage crossed to the sink to wash her hands. “Morning, ladies.”

Over the rushing of the water, the sudden silence behind her registered. A quick glance over her shoulder found two gazes centered on her like spotlights. “What?”

Alice met Merry’s eyes, a silent flash of communication passing between them. Sometimes Sage swore they could read one another’s minds. Alice turned back to Sage. “Well, I was going to ask what got you up late this morning, but never mind. Whatever it was, was worth it.”

“What do you mean?”

Merry’s smile was as soft and sweet as the sixty-year-old herself. “You’re smiling, dear.”

The smile her coworker had pointed out grew. “I am, aren’t I?” Which reminded her… “I got up in plenty of time, thank you very much,” she said, raising her voice to be heard over the rush of water as she rinsed her soapy hands. “Unfortunately I had an unexpected visitor this morning.”

“Oh?” Merry asked. “Who?”

Sage grabbed a towel, then leaned back against the counter to dry her hands. “Hank.”

“Why ‘unfortunately’?” Alice asked. She wiped a forearm along her brow, leaving behind a smudge of flour. She looked innocent like that, a grandmother baking goodies for the grandkids. She even had the snow-white hair and glasses to complete the look.

Sage wasn’t buying it. That look was a little too innocent. Then she thought about the answer to the older woman’s question and her cheeks flushed hot. Damn her fair skin. “‘Unfortunately’ because he came into the apartment just as I got out of the shower.”

Merry and Alice exchanged a confused glance.

“I was in the hall,” Sage clarified. Hesitated. “In a towel.”

Eyebrows shot up, and after a moment of shocked silence, laughter filled the room.

Sage fought the upward twitch of her lips.

“A towel?” Merry sputtered. Alice didn’t speak; Sage doubted she could. The woman was slapping a hand on the countertop, barely missing a bowl of cinnamon filling, howling like a hyena. Sage ignored the uproar and walked over to move the bowl out of harm’s way.

Merry clutched her stomach, leaving behind floured handprints. Every time Sage thought their amusement would peter out, one of them would look at her or each other, and it would set them off again.

“It’s not funny, you know.” She barely managed a quelling glance without losing it herself, but that would totally ruin the effect.

The laughter only grew louder.

It took long minutes before the volume died down to levels she could speak over. “I thought you told me he was a nice guy,” Sage reminded Alice, tacking on, “and that he’d be gone for another two weeks.”

“Of course he’s nice.” The snicker that followed seemed to contradict the certainty of Alice’s words. “Why would you think he’s not nice?”

Oh no, she wasn’t going there. She’d rather never go there, with anyone. It was bad enough that Hank knew he’d seen her naked. With a raised brow, she said pointedly, “Two weeks?”

Alice shrugged. “Guess I got the dates wrong. The man’s on the road so much it’s hard to keep it straight.”

“He is a hottie, though, isn’t he?” Merry piped up.

“Of course he is.” Alice added a smug under-the-eyelids look to Merry’s. Both women waited expectantly for Sage to weigh in on her accidental roommate’s hotness. Sage refused to go there.

The silence stretched out, taking Sage’s nerves with it. Alice stopped rolling; Merry stopped kneading. Their laser beam stares didn’t budge from her face. Sage shifted from one foot to the other.

Merry lifted an eyebrow at her. Why did that make her want to squirm?

“Um…”

“Come on, Sage,” Alice coaxed. “You can admit it.”

“Sure she can,” Merry added. That eyebrow screamed at her to answer.

“Ye— Uh…” She shifted again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Alice shook her head, disappointment in her eyes, her frown. Why did it matter if Sage thought the man was freakin’ hot? It shouldn’t. It really shouldn’t.

Merry shook her head. “Sage—”

It was the tone that did it, that indulgent, affectionate tone. Sage couldn’t hold back against it. “Okay, yes, damn it, he’s hot.” She found an interesting spot on the floor to stare at. “He also saw me naked.”

A small silence.

“What happened to your towel?” Alice finally asked. Was she laughing? Sure sounded like it, but Sage refused to look up and see for sure. She cleared her throat, fighting to hold back any more incriminating admissions.

“Well?”

That mama tone. How had these two women managed to get under her skin like this after such a short time? She found herself mumbling at the ground, “The dog stole my towel. Right in the middle of the hallway.”

And off they went again. Dragging what little dignity she had left around her, Sage clutched a bowl of filling to her belly and began doling it out, paying particular attention to evening out the filling in the corners of the dough.

Merry finally managed to choke back her amusement. Alice’s gasping breath followed, then a snort. That’s when Sage lost it. Embarrassing as the moment had been, it was also, she had to reluctantly admit, funny as hell. The three of them were wiping tears long minutes later.

Alice shot Sage a sly look. “So how did he react?”

Then Merry. “How did he react?”

Setting her empty bowl off to the side, Sage propped a fist on her hip. “I. Don’t. Know.” Her laugh was more of a combination huff-hiccup than anything. “I was too busy running down the hall, giving him a perfect view of my ass. Naked, remember?”

That set them off again. Sage shook her head and carried her empty bowl to the sink, waiting for them to quiet again. “Which begs the question, why did he not know who I was, Alice? He didn’t realize anyone would be in his apartment.”
Much less a naked woman.

That finally sobered Alice up. She concentrated on rolling the dough in front of her into a log. “Well, things have been so busy, you know? I might’ve forgotten to tell him about you.”

“Obviously!” Sage squeaked out.

Alice waved a hand. “Don’t worry, hon. It’s no biggie. Hank’s very laid-back.”

I noticed.
“You didn’t tell him I’d bought the market, or you didn’t tell him I was living in his house?”

“Um…both?”

Sage glared. “Is that a question? Really?”

Alice gave her a Mona Lisa smile that might or might not have been an answer before passing a pan of rolls her way. “Set these in the oven, would you?”

“You are an evil, evil woman,” Sage said, accepting the pan.

She caught just the edge of Alice’s wicked grin before her back turned. “Sometimes.”

Sage barely held back a groan. Someone save her from meddling coworkers and hot rock stars, please.