“You’d rather have Toni watching your back than me?”

Is it my imagination or does he sound hurt by that? Maybe he’s just offended. She is pretty puny.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just that with Toni, I can be myself. And I want to be able to be myself when I’m at home.” My tone goes into a pleading mode. “You can understand that, can’t you?” I think I’ve almost got him convinced. He’s on the ropes. I can see him caving . . .

“No,” he says. “That makes no sense whatsoever. I’m staying with you tonight and into the foreseeable future until we’ve assessed the threat and determined it doesn’t exist anymore or have removed it.”

I stand. “What if I say no?”

“I know the code to your alarm.” He looks like he’s about to smile, but lucky for him, he’s smart enough to hold it in.

“No, you don’t.” He never did change it for me when he was at my house.

“Thibault’s birthday.”

The loss of my almost won victory deflates me like a balloon. “Dammit.”

He loses some of his bravado too. “Would it really be that bad to have me around after hours?”

I cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t know. Can you keep your hands to yourself?”

He shrugs. “I can if you can.”

I roll my eyes. “Please. Check your ego at the door, Oswald, because I’m not going to be falling for any of that charm you like to spread around like peanut butter.”

He chuckles. “Like peanut butter, huh?”

I throw a pencil at him. “Oh, shut up.” Knowing that anything I say from here on out is only going to be defensive and stupid, I leave the room. His voice follows me out.

“Don’t leave without me!”

“I’m leaving in five minutes, so you’d better be ready!” I mean it too. I’m taking off whether he’s with me or not. He can’t make me wait for him. Stupid, egotistical, bossy . . . boss person.

My feet slow down, even though I’m telling myself I need to hurry up and go. It takes me forever to get to my car. I hate it when my body defies my brain like that. It seems to be a big problem for me whenever Ozzie’s around. So how in the hell am I going to listen to my brain telling me to stay the heck away from him when my body is constantly wanting to reach out and touch his glorious muscles?

Ugh, this is a mistake. This is going to be awful.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Okay, so it’s not as bad as I thought it was going to be. Ozzie follows me in his truck, Sahara tied up in the back, but calls me on my cell and tells me to turn into a plaza on the way. When we park next to one another, he explains that they have a great organic grocery here with ingredients he needs to make a chicken curry dinner for us. When I told him before I didn’t want him to stay with me, I’d temporarily forgotten how well he cooks.

Ninety minutes later I’m eating the last bite of the most delicious meal I’ve ever had. I groan with the pain of my stretching stomach, but I don’t regret a single calorie of it.

“Good?” he asks, sipping a bottle of beer. It’s his second. I’ve stuck to water, because I don’t trust myself not to be an idiot in his presence. Sobriety is my only hope.

“Good? No. Not good at all. Excellent. Amazing. Delicious.” I rub my stomach. “You can cook for me anytime.”

“So you don’t mind me being here, then?”

His question is a challenge. I stand and gather plates, wondering whether I should jump into the game or just be real. I vote in favor of being up front about things. Playing games with Ozzie can be dangerous. I have a feeling I’ll lose every time.

“I guess I never minded that you be here. That’s not the right way to explain it. I just don’t like being considered weak.”

“Just because someone might have it in for you, doesn’t make you weak. In your case it’s a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s no reflection of who you are or whether you’re strong or not.”

I let the water from the faucet wash away the remnants of our dinner as I contemplate those words.

“I don’t know . . .” Sometimes things are really clear for me, and other times they’re murky. This is one of those less-clear situations. Whenever The Fates seem to be interfering in my life, I wonder how much of it I have control of. “Um, I guess I’m having a hard time rationalizing those words with what’s happened.” It feels like a confession to tell him that.

“In what way?”

“Well, I started talking to you because you were a wrong number.”

“Another one of those wrong place, wrong time situations,” he says.

“No, not really.”

He takes some dishes from the table and joins me in the kitchen. He stands at the dishwasher and takes plates and silverware from me, loading them carefully in the available slots.

“I was thinking that even though it seemed wrong at the start, and you seemed wrong at the start with that horrible beard and all, things turned out pretty good in retrospect.”

“You mean you’re happy I had the wrong number.”

“Yes. Wrong number, right guy.” I grin. “You’re a good boss.”

He grunts, leaning over the dishwasher as he puts a plate near the back. “Is that so.”

“Yes, it is. You have a nice workplace for your employees, you provide lots of benefits, and you care about their safety. You’re here at my house, in fact, making sure I’m okay. Not many bosses would do that.”

He stands up and takes the next plate from me. But he doesn’t bend over and put it in the dishwasher. “You’re right. Not many would.”

I grin. “See? Great boss.”

He gives me a wry look. “I have to be honest, though. I’m not sure I’d do it for Lucky and his goldfish.”

I force the butterflies to go away and not take up residence in my chest or my stomach. He’s just being funny.

“Well, he’s a guy. And he’s been highly trained.” I take the plate from Ozzie’s hands and put it in the dishwasher myself. I’m not going to let this thing turn into a flirtation. We can be adults sharing the same living space without things getting silly.

“I’m not sure I’d do it for Toni either,” he says.

Now I’m not as certain he isn’t saying something about us. I try to laugh it off anyway.

“She’s highly trained too.”

“Yeah, she is.” He puts the next plate in the washer. Then he leans over and grabs my sponge from the edge of the sink and leaves the kitchen to wipe down the table. The scent of him lingers, and I breathe it in quietly.

I’m sad he’s left the conversation, but happy to have a moment to gather myself. Wow. He’s saying I’m special. He didn’t go so far as to say he likes me, but I’m definitely getting that impression.

So what do I do? Ignore it? Play it off? Send him signals that I’m not interested? Send him signals that I am? I really need to talk to my sister. She’ll know what to do.

“Do you mind if I go upstairs to make a phone call?” I ask, wiping my hands dry on a dishtowel. “My sister gets kind of freaky when she doesn’t hear from me in the evening.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll finish up down here. Then I’m going to get on my computer in the living room, if that’s okay.”

I wave my hand around. “Oh, sure, no problem. My password’s stuck to the front of my computer over by the window. Do whatever you want.” I put the dishtowel down and try to walk casually over to the staircase. What I really want to do is run, pounding up the stairs as I dial my sister’s number and give her a blow-by-blow recounting of my entire day, gushing like a schoolgirl. But I need to act like the adult I am and have some control. It’s not that big a deal if Ozzie wants to sleep with me. We’re both consenting adults. It’s not like I’m going to fall in love with him.

I lock my bedroom door and put on some music, just in case he has plans to try and listen in. My sister picks up on the third ring.