There probably wouldn’t be a lot of Monday mornings, and she knew him better than that. “I appreciate your playing bodyguard, but if our friendship is temporary, then I shouldn’t start to count on that, right?” Yeah, she might be sounding a little snippy.

“Our friendship isn’t temporary, but our close proximity is, because it needs to be.” He sounded oh so reasonable and back in control this morning. He also looked fresh and ready to rumble in dark jeans and a light green T-shirt, but there was stubble along his hard jawline.

She sighed. “Don’t act all distant and weird because we burned up the sheets last night.”

He didn’t glance her way, but his lips twitched. “You do have a way with words, and I’m not acting distant and weird. Well, maybe weird, but that’s normal for me.”

“You said you didn’t regret it, and I don’t regret it, so knock it off.” She was starting to feel like a dork, and she’d had enough of this. “You’re lucky, in fact.” It wasn’t as if she went around sleeping with guys. Who had the time?

“I know. Very lucky.” His smile flashed straight white teeth.

She watched the traffic go by outside the truck. It seemed like the guy had the world on his mind. “Are you worried we just complicated everything?”

“Oh, we definitely just complicated everything.” He edged around a semi carting fruit. “Drink your latte. It’s getting cold.” He jerked his head toward the melting whipped cream.

She took the coffee and sipped gingerly, letting the syrup slam into her system. Why didn’t somebody tell Wolfe to take it easy on the sugar? He seemed to get so much enjoyment from providing the sweets that even she couldn’t say anything, although she was feeling a mite prickly with him right now—and not just because she’d gained five pounds since starting to hang out with him. “I appreciate your concern. I am capable, you know.”

“Very much so.” He turned off the interstate and wound down the quiet road toward the ’70s-style office building. “No matter how capable you are, I would want to protect you if you were mine.”

Whoa. “I’m mine,” she retorted. “Even if we had decided to take all of this to the next level, which we did not, I would not be yours.” The warmth spreading through her limbs was irritation, not desire. Yep. Definitely.

“Sure, you would be.” He pulled into a spot between two faded yellow lines and cut the engine.

“Wolfe,” she protested, waiting until he partially turned to face her. “It’s not the nineteen hundreds.”