He got to his feet and used the convenient half bath off the foyer. His socks were silent on the tile as he returned to the kitchen. The open floor plan flowed right into the living room, taking advantage of the expansive windows with their stunning views of Rittenhouse Square and the city beyond. Her apartment was twice the size of Pat’s house, and it was fitted out like a magazine spread in granite, leather, and gleaming wood. He ran a hand across the smooth, black counter and spotted an empty wine cooler underneath.

The Rittenhouse was one of the most exclusive residences in the city, with condominiums that provided all the amenities of the attached luxury hotel. He couldn’t even imagine what this three-bedroom unit cost. Just how wealthy was she? Conor brushed his unease aside. It wasn’t like he could ask her for a bank statement, but the House Beautiful decor was one more example of the fundamental difference between them. Not that her income should affect their relationship, but putting the dollars aside, their lifestyles highlighted that they lived in different worlds.

A short hallway branched off the kitchen. The closed door at the end must be Louisa’s room. Last night he’d seen her more relaxed than ever in snug yoga pants and a loose sweater instead of one of her suits. A blast of need zoomed through him. He wanted to see her wake up. All that blond hair would be down on her shoulders, her eyes sleepy, her body warm . . .

The dog whined at the door. Conor turned around. He’d walk the dog before he left, and maybe bring Louisa coffee.

He slipped into his shoes, grabbed her apartment key from the bowl in the hall, and opened the hall closet. Kirra’s leash hung on the back of the door. He walked the dog through the square to Nineteenth Street and ducked into La Colombe for two large coffees and muffins. When he let himself back in, the condo was still quiet. Last night, Louisa had eaten the baked potato and salad for dinner. She’d chopped the remaining steak and green beans and left them in the fridge.

Conor put the bowl on the floor for the dog. “You wouldn’t be getting this kind of service at my place. Hamburger is high-end on my budget.”

A door opened, and a bleary-eyed Louisa shuffled into the kitchen. She was still wearing the snug yoga pants from the night before, but a heavy sweatshirt covered her to midthigh. Her tousled, just-out-of-bed hair tumbled onto her shoulders and made Conor want to take her right back to bed.

She blinked at him in surprise. “Oh, you’re still here. I thought I heard you leave.”