“Yes.”

“Good.” She dumped her bag and coat on the stool. “We need to clean your knuckles.”

* * *

Harlow rifled through the large first aid kit, pretending not to notice Easton loosening and removing his tie, then unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt.

She really pretended not to notice his tattooed, strong forearms as he rolled up his sleeves.

It was so unfair. The man was good-looking in a masculine, rugged way, smart and rich, and he also had a hard, muscular body.

No doubt he spent time in the gym he’d mentioned.

She glanced around the living area and kitchen. It wasn’t so intimidating in here. It was gorgeous, but the fancy kitchen aside, it was clear that this was the heart of this home.

She noted the books on the coffee table in front of the big, gray couch. They weren’t for show—a crime thriller, and a true crime book.

He set something down on the counter.

She eyed the pills. “What are those?”

“Ibuprofen. That cheek and your ribs will start to throb.” He moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water.

Harlow took the pills. “Sit,” she ordered, waving at the stools that stood beside the California-sized kitchen island. “Let me see those knuckles.”

“Have you always been this bossy?” he asked.

She snorted. “I’m organized, and I’m damn good at arranging things, not bossy.” She took his hand, ignoring the tingles that touching his skin generated. She just had to accept that touching this man lit a fuse inside her.

She rested his fingers on the marble and started dabbing antiseptic wipes over his torn knuckles. “You’re the one that has bossy down to an art form.”

Seeing his torn skin and blood made her remember just what he’d saved her from.

She shivered.

“Hey.” He pressed a finger under her chin and made her look at him. “You’re safe, Harlow.”

“Thanks to you. If those men had gotten me into that SUV…” She took a deep breath.

“I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

She met his blue gaze. It was intense, lit with an inner fire.

“There is no way I want to train a new assistant,” he added.

The dry comment surprised a laugh out of her.

His lips quirked. She set to work, cleaning his left hand. It wasn’t quite as bad as the right.

“Did one assistant really strip naked on your desk?”

He grimaced. “Yes. It was a bit of a shock after I came back from a meeting.” He shook his head. “I didn’t even know her name. We’d never spoken. Yet she expected—” he shook his head again. “Some people only see the dollar signs, or the power, or what you can do for them.”