Because if Evans hadn’t come through, today’s tutoring session would have been a repeat of Tuesday’s. Unless he’d had news to share, they’d have finished their business in less than five minutes and she would have had to sit beside him for almost half an hour pretending to study.

Pretend being the operative word.

It was impossible to get any actual work done with Zeke mere inches away, the air crackling between them, the scent of his subtle yet potent aftershave invading her space.

Skipping out had been the safest course.

She slipped through the door to the dorm and paused to let the warm air chase the chill from her cheeks—and to plan her strategy.

A call to her handler was top priority. It was critical to get the evidence in her pocket to the lab ASAP. If that required another weekend visit from her concerned father—and two more days away from school—that was fine by her. Much as she wanted to solve her case, another forty-eight hours to recuperate would be bliss—not that she’d admit that to anyone. But if the opportunity arose, why fight it? Every breath still hurt.

She pulled out her phone. Hesitated.

Should she text Zeke first? She had said she’d let him know if Evans followed up on his promise.

Yeah, that would be the professional approach.

Thumbs flying over the screen, she typed in a brief message.

—Making progress, but need help with homework. Reschedule study session 2 2morrow?

That would tell him there was news.

And while she was waiting to pass it on, she’d arrange the handoff of her very important package.

Zeke ignored the vibration from his phone as he swung into the parking garage at his condo, steadying the cardboard tray on the seat beside him that held his takeout dinner and beverage.

Whoever was texting him could wait five minutes until he carried his food into his kitchen and ditched his coat.

It sure wasn’t Cate—the only person he was interested in talking to at the moment. Not after she’d bailed on their study session.

The urge to try and persuade her to keep their date had been strong—but she was running scared . . . and pushing could do more harm than good.

He pulled into his assigned spot, set the parking brake, picked up his food, and slid out from behind the wheel.

On the plus side, if she was scared, that must mean she was fighting the temptation to consider his proposition, that her feelings ran as deep and strong as his did—and she wasn’t clear how she felt about that yet.

He walked toward the door, fishing for his security card.

As long as the verdict was positive in the end, he could wait for her to—

All at once, the hairs on the back of his neck rose—and a red alert began to strobe through his mind.