“Cam, what are you doing? It’s eight in the morning.”

“Thanks for the update on the time. It’s one thing I’ve never been able to master: the telling of time.”

She trailed after me, and I could feel her staring daggers in my back. “Why are you here?”

“Making breakfast.”

“You can’t do that in your own kitchen?”

“My kitchen isn’t as exciting as yours.” I placed the eggs and bread on the counter and faced her. Scrubbing her eyes, she looked so damn cute, and I wished I was wearing something more decent than sweats and a shirt I wasn’t even sure was clean. “And Ollie is passed out on the living-room floor.”

“On the floor?”

“Yep. Facedown, snoring and drooling a little. It’s not an appetizing atmosphere.”

Her lips twitched into a quick smile and then quickly disappeared. “Well, neither is my apartment.”

I folded my arms as I leaned against the counter. “Oh, I don’t know about that . . .” I let my gaze wander the exquisite length of hers. Her nipples were hard, pressing against her shirt, begging to be touched, licked, and kissed and God knows what else I would do to them. Lust slammed into my gut and I almost took a step toward her. “Your kitchen, right this second, is very appetizing.”

She flushed. “I’m not going out with you, Cam.”

“I didn’t ask you at this moment, now did I?” I grinned. “But you will eventually.”

“You’re delusional.”

“I’m determined.”

“More like annoying,” she retorted, brown eyes twinkling.

“Most would say amazing.”

She rolled her eyes. “Only in your head.”

“In many heads is what you meant.” I turned to the stove. “I also brought banana-nut bread baked in my very own oven.”

There was a pause. “I’m allergic to bananas.”

I wheeled around. “Are you shitting me?”

“No. I’m not. I’m allergic to bananas.”

“Man, that’s a damn shame. You have no idea what you’re missing out on. Bananas make the world a better place.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Well damn. Apparently she could resist my banana-nut bread. “Anything else you’re allergic to?”

“Besides penicillin and guys who bust up into my apartment? No.”

“Hardy-har-har.” I turned and bent, opening the nearest cabinets. “How many weaker, less-assured guys have you slayed with that tongue of yours?”

“Apparently not enough.” Her gasp was audible. “I’ll be right back.”

I had no idea what she was up to, but I doubted she’d leave the apartment. Humming under my breath, I found a pot to boil eggs in and filled it with water. Plopping it on the stove, I cranked up the heat. I could hear her back in her bedroom, her soft footfalls, heavier than I thought they’d be. A couple of moments went by and I turned to the doorway. It was quite possible that she would lock herself in her room.

Dammit.

“Hey! Are you hiding back there?” I yelled. “Because I will come back there and drag you out.”

“Don’t you dare come in here!” she shouted.