I’m almost running to keep up. So I slam into him when he stops suddenly. One minute I’m striding along a corridor, and the next I’m plastered against him, cold clothes against cold clothes, warm body against warm body, my face pressed into his back.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, heat climbing my neck as I step back.

He opens one of the doors, and only now do I realize I should have been counting. Every single door looks the same. The distance between them is the same. There’s no artwork or rugs in this hallway. Barren. That’s how it looks. How it feels. The room is no different. There’s a bed in the middle. A nightstand. An open door revealing a small bathroom. A closed door that I assume leads to a closet. There’s not even a rug or lamp to make the room feel lived in.

“This is yours,” he says. “Your space when you aren’t working.”

“Me and the cat.”

His lips quirk. “Right. You and the cat.”

I have to squeeze by him to get into the room. We only touched for a second, but it was electric. I can still feel the currents running through me. Even getting close to him feels like heat. I wheel my soggy luggage into a corner and then settle the kitten in the middle of the bed. I flick on the light in the bathroom and blink against the glare. I’m pretty sure we need a litter box or something like that, but I’m too freezing and tired to worry about it now.

I turn to face Mr. Rochester. Beau Rochester.

“Well,” I say, tangling my hands together. “Thanks so much for showing me to my room. And for the… you know, the welcome. And everything. I want you to know that I’m so grateful for the opportunity to be here, and I’m going to work so hard to make sure that—”

“You’re freezing,” he says, almost gently.

I’m freezing. And I’m rambling. “Right. I’m cold. You’re cold. The kitten is cold, but more importantly, Paige and I are going to get along great. I’m so excited to get started.”

I’m not sure why, but in that moment, I look down. And I see that my nipples are hard points against the fabric of my bra and the T-shirt I wore on the plane. I fold my arms in front of me, the movement protective and wildly obvious. If he didn’t know my nipples were standing at attention before, then he definitely knows now.

Reluctantly I meet his dark gaze. Oh, he knew. He definitely knew.

“Your job isn’t to be best friends with Paige,” he says.

“Right,” I say, even though I don’t know where he’s going with this.