He stills for a second before his fingers drift along the curve of my hip. “I do too—every board, window, and shingle. It’s too big for one person—hell, it’s too big for two—but it’s private, comfortable, and of course there’s the view.” Resting his head against the chair, he expels a long breath as if letting go of the day. The lines of his body seem to sink into relaxation. “I know I’ve had it easy when it comes to money. But every morning I wake up here and am grateful.”

My eyes drift closed. A warm lassitude fills me. I could sit here all night, listening to the steady beat of his heart and the even cadence of his breathing. Reality crashes over me. I’m sitting in Macon’s lap, cuddling him.

Holy hell.

As if pinched, I jump out of his embrace and scramble to my feet. He eyes me cautiously, clearly expecting an argument. Or maybe it’s disappointment in his gaze. I’m too unhinged by the idea that I’ve been snuggling with him to figure it out. I’ve been on his damn lap, and it hadn’t felt weird or wrong; it had felt normal, right, good.

Seriously, what the great hell, Dee?

Macon peers up at me, one thick brow quirked as if to say, “You’re the one who made yourself comfortable all over my lap.” Yeah, I did. Why did I do that? I take a step back, and my butt rests against the balcony railing. I have to think about something other than how very good it felt to be in his arms. I have to put an end to all this soft, dangerous emotion. He’s my boss. I’m here because of Sam. And then I remember . . .

“Why didn’t you tell me about the stalkers?”

His good humor shatters like dropped glass, and he stares back at me, stone faced. “North?”

“That’s not an answer.”

His fingers flex, and I’ve a good idea he’s imagining wrapping them around North’s neck. “I meant, did North tell you?”

“Who cares who told me?” I stretch my arms wide in frustration. “You should have.”

“Why?” His chin lifts belligerently. “It was over and done by the time you arrived.”

“Is it? You mean to tell me they were caught and are now behind bars? That you have North as a bodyguard and are worried about me going out on my own because everything is just peachy?”

A curse snarls out of him, and he runs a hand over his face, the bristles of his burgeoning beard rasping against his palm. With an aggravated sigh, he sits back with the grace and arrogance of a king. “They’re not in jail. Yes, I am taking precautions, and that includes having you protected.”