She settles, and I get on with what I was forced here to do. Except everything on my desk is everywhere, and as I glance across the surface, papers strewn as a result of Ava squirming across the wood, I sigh. This will delay things considerably. I spot a pile of bound papers still piled, albeit messily. There’s a Post-It note on top with John’s messy handwriting ordering me to read it and sign. I gather it up and flick through, making sure the pages are in order, every so often glancing up. Each time I do, she’s engrossed in whatever it is she’s doing. It’s quiet. Nice. Ava being here while I work is nice.

Pete arrives with Ava’s steak, and I point to the couch, my eyes landing on the bottle of wine. A whole bottle. I obviously wasn’t clear. I should have stated a glass rather than some wine.

I leave Pete to serve Ava’s dinner, returning my attention to the surveillance contract and the proposed camera placements. All looks good. Timeframe? Great. Cost? Stupid but necessary. I grab a pen and scrawl across the final page before I stand and wander up behind Ava, smiling at the sounds she’s making.

“Good?” I ask, placing my chin on her shoulder, her hair tickling my face.

“Very.” She can hardly speak over her mouthful. “You want to try?”

I open my mouth in answer, and she shares, feeding me. If only she knew that it’s not just food she’s feeding me. “Hmmm, very good.”

“More?”

I nod, and she cuts me another piece, holding out her fork. I move in slowly, open my mouth, pull off the steak slowly, and chew slowly. Her expression is a picture. My face plummets into her neck, my hands finding her shoulders.

“You taste better,” I growl, biting my way to her lobe and latching on, making sure I breathe deeply, right into her ear. She shudders, pushing her head into me. “You eat,” I order, kissing her head, working her shoulders. “You’re tense. Why are you tense?”

She doesn’t answer, just hums, soaking up the pressure of my hands, and I am fine with that.

There’s a knock on the door. “Yes?”

Sarah wanders in, and I toss her a warning look, a look that tells her not to say anything smart. I don’t know if she catches it. She’s too focused on me massaging Ava.

“Your figures,” she mutters like a petulant child, setting them on my desk, frowning at the mess.

I drop a kiss on Ava’s cheek and take a long shot of her scent to see me through another half hour or so. “Thanks, Sarah. I have to work now, baby. Eat your dinner.”