“Sorry, I didn’t know you were there. I mean, I was going to brush my teeth.” She gestured weakly toward the closed bathroom door and tried to still her racing heart. She wasn’t sure if it was tripping over itself because she’d been startled or because Spencer was once again wearing only pajama pants that snagged sexily on his hips, revealing that delicious little V in his lower abs. She swallowed and tried to redirect her gaze.

But, damn, the man was too beautiful.

Still, she couldn’t choose Spencer over Conrad merely because he did weird things to her body.

Wait.

Why was picking between them even a thought? She and Spencer had slept together, and that was it. He hadn’t indicated he wanted anything more than the one night . . . and, okay, morning. Besides, she didn’t really know Spencer at all. Like what if Spencer wasn’t even his real name? What was his birthday? His favorite color? Did he like cats? He could be allergic to cats for all she knew. That was a deal breaker. Humphrey and Bing were her babies. She couldn’t—

“Are you okay?” he asked, stepping back and looking alarmed. “Cause you look super stressed.”

“I—I—I wanted to know if you like cats,” she stammered. And then felt stupid. How had that just come out of her mouth?

“Cats?” He looked confused.

“Uh, because there’s a cat that Chase dubbed Beast who’s been hanging around. I wanted you to know in case you’re, um, allergic or something.”

Spencer grinned, and she felt that in her girl parts. Good Lord, how could anyone ever be angry at this guy?

“I like cats. Not allergic. But I’m thinking you’re feeling awkward about things between us, but there’s no need to be. We’re cool, all right?”

“Cool?” she repeated, wondering what in the hell that meant. Was he done with her like some schmoozy Cary Grant, plying her with charm, never intending to call her again?

He grabbed her elbows, sliding his hand up her arms and drawing her closer to him. Lifting a hand, he smoothed back her hair and pressed her against him. “I’m saying that it’s cool if you need time to know what you want. We don’t have to hurry anything.”

“Hurry anything?” she murmured, sinking into him, trying not to inhale him like she was a crazy person. But he smelled so good—a sort of spicy warmth mixed with fresh from the shower. She had no clue how he made the fresh-and-spicy combo work, but, Lord, he so did.