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stale sheets. She picked up his laptop and set it aside.
    The windows open on the screen drew her interest but she quickly turned her gaze from it. What he did wasn’t her business. It was bold enough of her to insinuate herself into his life this morning, take over his care, and fix him breakfast.
    She stripped his bed and spent ten minutes searching for where he might store fresh linens. She opened closets and closed them before finally locating a set of sheets on a high shelf. When she pulled them down, something thumped, falling over.
    Reaching on tiptoe, she touched the object that had fallen. When she pulled it down and saw a woman’s smiling face and Corey’s arm slung around her shoulders, Sarita’s heart gave a sickening jolt.
    Fingers shaking, she replaced the photo frame and closed the closet door. With the sheets in her arms, she returned to his room and remade his bed. Wondering about that woman and her role in his life now. He’d told her he didn’t have anybody—not even a pet to take care of. Did he still carry a flame for that woman?
    Sarita finished making the bed, plumping his pillows, and then carrying off his dirty clothes. She imagined the apartment building had a place to do laundry, but she’d take everything home and wash it in her building. It would give her a reason to check on Corey tomorrow.
    After finding a month’s worth of newspapers jammed under his bed, she thought about tossing them. But maybe he was saving them for the headlines. She thought of the content on his laptop. He might be trying to uncover some information.
    She listened to the news, so she knew about the arsonist still being on the loose. Hopefully he didn’t think he could bring the criminal down in his state?
    Stubborn man. She smiled to herself and sat on the floor, putting his papers in chronological order. Then she stowed them neatly under the bed and went back into the living room to check on her patient.
    He slumbered on. The only thing left to do would be to run the vacuum but she didn’t want to wake him. So she went into the kitchen and fixed a pot of chicken noodle soup. Finally, she took a seat in the comfy recliner opposite the sofa.
    The leather smelled of Corey, a faint musky male scent that fired all her cylinders. What a way to spend her day off. First thing this morning she’d considered throwing away all her obligations and going to the shore. But her worries of Corey had nagged her too much to ignore. She was glad she’d come.
    She picked up a book lying on the coffee table and looked at the back jacket. A thriller. She’d never read anything like this, but the first few pages grabbed her attention and didn’t let go. She never looked up from the pages until she felt a heavy weight upon her.
    Lifting her gaze, she met Corey’s bright eyes. Her stomach fluttered and she lowered the book.
    “You’re still here.” His voice was rough, as if he’d gargled glass.
    “Let me get you a drink.” She stood and hurried off to the kitchen, her thoughts coming at her from all angles. Would he kiss her again? Would he feel she’d intruded by cleaning up his space? How would his hands feel if he moved them over her ass, pulling her onto his cock?
    In the kitchen, she had to look out the window at the alley below to gain some semblance of control. She wasn’t here to jump the man. He wasn’t even in any shape for her to do that.
    She retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge and returned to his side. He was sitting up, a distracted expression on his rugged features. When she handed him the bottle, he curled his fingers over hers. Holding her captive.
    She stopped breathing. Their gazes locked.
    “Sit and talk to me, Sarita.”
    “Okay.” She started to move back to the recliner, but he pulled on her arm, tugging her down to sit next to him. The way his big thigh pressed against hers sent pangs of need straight to her pussy. What she wouldn’t give for one of her toys now. Tonight it was going to