“Breakfast is ready. I was waiting on you to eat.”

Wordlessly, she followed him into the kitchen where she saw a table set for two. Taking a platter off the warmer, he carried it over to the table and began spooning healthy portions of eggs, toast and ham onto their plates.

As she sat down, she was forced to admit that she felt better than she had in weeks. She had certainly gotten more rest in the past twenty-four hours than she had in a long time.

“How are you feeling this morning?” he asked as he took a seat across from her.

“Fine,” she mumbled around a mouthful of egg. Her appetite was coming back and she concentrated on the delicious food in front of her.

This whole thing was weird. The ultrapoliteness. The cozy breakfast for two. It was so awkward that she wanted to go back to the bedroom and crawl back into bed.

After a long silence, Ryan spoke up. “I’ve made arrangements to work out of the apartment for the time being.”

She stopped chewing then swallowed the food in her mouth. “Why?” she asked flatly.

“I would think the answer is obvious.”

“This isn’t going to work, Ryan. I can’t stay here with you hanging over my shoulder all the time. Go to work. Do whatever it is you normally do, and just leave me alone.”

His lips thinned and then he got up and walked away without another word.

She stared down at her plate, furious that he acted like the victim. As if she was some horrible, ungrateful bitch.

Fury and aching sadness knotted her throat. How could she ever get past what he’d done to her? Maybe he was just as determined not to forgive her for her supposed transgressions, but Kelly was the innocent one in this whole sordid mess. Ryan had turned his back on her. He didn’t seem to want to acknowledge that little fact.

She fiddled with her remaining food, pushing it around her plate until restlessness forced her to her feet.

Wandering aimlessly back into the living room, she stopped in front of the large window offering a view of the Manhattan skyline.

“You shouldn’t be on your feet,” Ryan said from behind her.

She sighed and turned around, shocked to see him in just a towel. She swiveled back to the window, but the image burned in her eyes. His broad chest rippled with well-defined muscles and his lean abdomen was sculpted like a fine work of art. She used to spend hours exploring the dips and curves of his body.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you,” he said in a low voice. “I guess I didn’t give it a thought considering our past relationship.”

She had the ridiculous urge to laugh. Embarrass her? The only embarrassing thing was how her mind was currently wandering way below the makeshift waistline of his towel.

And of course, in his arrogance, he would assume—considering the “nature of their relationship”—that he could cavort about in the nude.