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surface—a neatly-stacked pile of envelopes, a manila folder and the big law book he’d been reading.
    It was the table at the head of the bed that seemed to hold the only traces of the real Jackson.  It was easy to see that what few treasured possessions Jackson had brought to Slumber were all located on that small round table.
    There was a family photo of him and Jersey with their parents before they died.  There was an old pocket watch that was shined to a sparkling finish.  There was a Verachidis, a perpetually-blooming, bright red flower that only grows in the fertile soils of Atlas and can live until its central stamen is plucked out.  And then there was an iPod. 
    I picked it up, smiling as I ran my finger over the worn buttons.  Jackson had fallen in love with human music early in our childhood.  It didn’t surprise me at all that he would own something like this.
    His ear buds dangled from the end of the tiny box.  I noticed that there was only one.  At first I thought it odd, but then I thought of Jackson’s devotion to being a Sentinel.  He would no doubt frown upon completely drowning out his hearing by flooding both ears with music.  He wouldn’t tolerate being that vulnerable.  I knew that Jackson would want to have one ear attuned to the environment, continually scanning it for a disturbance in the Force. 
    I shook my head in exasperation.  I’m surprised he didn’t sleep with his eyes open.
    I turned the device on and held the single bud to my ear as I flipped through his song collection.  I was smiling over Jackson’s apparent penchant for country music when his deep voice startled me.
    “I never realized that you had criminal tendencies,” Jackson said from behind me.
    I whirled around, guiltily flinging his iPod back onto the small table.  A smart aleck response was teetering on the tip of my tongue, but it fell away as soon as I saw Jackson.
    He was standing in the center of the room in nothing more than a towel.  It rode low on his waist where it was wrapped around him and tucked in at his navel.  My mouth dropped open as I scanned him from the Mer charm hugging his ankle to the ripples of muscle crossing his stomach.  After a slight pause there, I continued my journey up to the thick bands of sinew that stretched across his ridiculously wide chest.  There was a light dusting of ebony hair scattered across his pectorals.  They narrowed to a sharp V and then disappeared into the towel. 
    A deep, rumbling chuckle brought my eyes up to Jackson’s face.  Embarrassed, I closed my mouth with a quick snap of my teeth, nearly biting my tongue off in the process. 
    Keeping my eyes above his chin didn’t help my composure much.  Jackson was clean shaven and water droplets still clung to his black hair, twinkling like stars dotting a midnight sky.
    “What’s wrong, Princess?  Cat got your tongue?”
    There was a mischievous glint of masculine pleasure in his hypnotic blue eyes.  In response, my face burned with my mortification.  Fortunately, humiliation had a way of sobering my mind.
    “I didn’t think you were here.”
    “Where else would I be?”
    “I thought you might’ve left with the girl that was here last night,” I answered sharply.
    I saw the flicker of a frown pass over Jackson’s brow before it smoothed and he replied, oh-so casually.
    “No.  I was in the bathroom.”
    I knew that there was a bathroom tucked behind the closet, but, quite honestly, I had been so preoccupied, I’d forgotten all about it. 
    “I didn’t hear the shower,” I offered by way of explanation.
    “Probably because I was shaving,” Jackson said, rubbing his smooth chin.
    I fought desperately to keep my eyes trained on his, ignoring the bunching of his muscles as he moved.  At that point, I’m sure my body temperature was a good ten degrees above normal.
    “Sorry,” I said, making my expression as nonchalant as I could make it.
    Jackson shrugged.
    “Did you need