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surged.
    â€œEmberly,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I had completely forgotten about you and the apartment.”
    â€œNo problem.” I said it wryly, having figured as much. “I tidied everything up as best I could, and I think the only material thing missing is your desktop computer.”
    â€œWhat about the laptop?”
    â€œStill safe in its hidey-hole.”
    He sighed. “That’s all right, then.”
    I nodded. Not only was most of his important work typed up by me on that laptop, but it was also the computer he used to shift his reports to his cloud service—a procedure only he and I knew about. The desktop was little more than a ruse in the event of a robbery. Or a ransacking, in this case.
    â€œI’m about to go home,” I said. “Do you need anything else before I do?”
    He reached for the five notebooks teetering on the edge of the table. “I wrote up my notes for both yesterday and today.” He glanced at me over the top of his glasses. “You do still have the secure laptop at your place, don’t you?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œGood. I need these transcribed overnight.”
    Of course he did. I guess it was lucky I had nothing more than a leisurely loving session with Rory planned.
    Once I’d stripped off all the protective gear and signed out, I headed home. Rory sent me a text saying he was doing an extra couple of hours and wouldn’t be home until nine, so after a shower, I re-dressed in sweatpants and a loose-fitting T-shirt, then pulled out my laptop and started on the notebooks.
    By the time nine rolled around, I’d transcribed four of the five notebooks. I saved them onto a USB—Mark’s need to be extra careful was somewhat catching—then bounced up and shoved it into the planter box filled with plastic flowers for safekeeping. Once I’d started dinner, I poured myself some red wine and wandered out onto the balcony. A helicopter clattered past, searchlights sweeping the buildings opposite. Light briefly glinted off a round object in a window one up and one across from our apartment, and I snorted softly. The old fart in 61B was obviously using his telescope again, hoping to catch me naked. Of course, it didn’t help matters that I
did
periodically walk around sans clothes, but I figured the more he was watching me, the less he was watching other unsuspecting women. And it was certainly no skin off my nose if he got his jollies that way—although that
didn’t
mean I hadn’t had him checked out to make sure he wasn’t anythingmore than a harmless old man who enjoyed spying.
    I finished my wine, went back inside to see how the roast chicken and potatoes were going, and then somewhat reluctantly sat down to transcribe the final notebook. Rory rolled in just as I rose to check our dinner. “Hey,” I said, grabbing a pair of tongs so I could turn the potatoes. “You’re late.”
    â€œNot only late,” he said, dumping his bag on the table before coming up behind me. He slid his hands under my T-shirt and snuggled close. His fingers were hot against my belly, his erection like steel against my rear. “But terribly disappointed.”
    â€œOh yeah?” I nudged him away with an elbow, then put the chicken back into the oven. “Why’s that?”
    â€œBecause you promised to be naked and waiting.” He pressed close again and kissed the back of my neck. My skin tingled in response, and desire unfurled within me. “This, clearly, is not the case.”
    I smiled and drew in the scent of him. He smelled of smoke and flame—aromas that were both delicious and intoxicating to spirits made of fire. “Nakedness happened at six. You’re the one who decided he needed to work overtime.”
    â€œIt got me back into the boss’s good books, and
that
was worth the extra hours of frustration.”
    His fingers moved down my belly