Probably shouldn’t have said that. As if he’d make himself at home. The man was a professional. And he had the blank face and hard eyes look straight back in business this morning. Which was right and good. Just because you spent the night in my room (not bed) didn’t mean there would be any change in our professional relationship or business arrangement. I needed to get this man’s position in my life straight and stop overthinking everything. The bodyguard was making me a neurotic wreck.

Coffee would fix everything. Then time for some more unpacking and a little work.

I reached for the mug, overshot, and knocked it straight off the counter. It crashed at my feet, splattering hot liquid everywhere.

“Shit.”

Down the hall, the bathroom door dramatically flew open. Next Ziggy stepped out with a gun in one hand. The other hand, meanwhile, kept the towel around his waist held together. So. Much. Skin. Like seriously.

His assessing eyes immediately took in the scene. “Are you okay, Miss Cooper?”

“Yeah. I just…um.”

My brain basically melted. Holy hell he was ripped. Long, lean, and built in all the ways. I mean, his suit hinted at it, but it was a little startling to see how fit the man actually was. Bet he could snap me in half with one hand. Though he’d also look delightful with a dad or a bear bod. The man carried himself so well. Also, I just enjoyed looking at him that much. Which (again) was wrong. Were I not a lapsed Catholic, I’d have been doing Hail Marys for days, thanks to the lustful thoughts this man inspired.

What was wrong with me?

I needed a moment to pull myself together, and I closed my eyes. Yes, much better. Without all of his hotness in my face my brain could actually function. “I’m fine. Just clumsy.”

“Your skin is red,” he commented.

“Oh, I’m blushing? That’s because it’s embarrassing being such a klutz,” my lying tongue lied.

“No, your foot.”

Then came a soft clink amongst other muted sounds. A cloth dabbed carefully at my foot. I opened my eyelids to see what was happening. Ziggy Thayer was on bended knee in front of me. His dark hair, wide shoulders, and even the long line of his spine were on display. With tea towel in hand, he wiped the hot coffee off my skin.

“I don’t think you’re burnt.” He gazed up at me with those oh so serious eyes. He had beautiful olive skin with a couple of white scars on his back. “Does it feel okay?”

“It feels…good. I mean fine. Yeah. No worries.”

“Lift your foot for me.”

“My foot?”