“I’ll be the judge of that,” she said, opening the bag and pulling out a chocolate glazed variety, to take a bite. “Hmmm. Okay. Pretty darn good.”
He leaned in and kissed her, licking his lip afterwards. “You had icing on your mouth.”
Lauren felt her cheeks heat, and pretty much, her entire body, too.
“I’m staying the rest of the weekend.”
“What?” She asked in surprise at the announcement and then immediately set her donut on a napkin he’d placed on the table and shook her head in rejection. “You don’t have to play bodyguard, Royce. The building is secure.”
“And yet you wouldn’t have slept if I hadn’t been here last night. I’m staying with you or you’re staying with me. I’d rather stay here so I can evaluate what is going on with these threats in your environment and whether they are likely to continue. But,” he pulled her close, his lips lingering above hers, “I’d welcome the opportunity to have you in my bed.”
“Royce,” she said, trying to think past the warmth spreading through her body. “You’re impossibly”
“Bossy. Yes. I know. But I’m going to fight you on this one and I’m not going to apologize. I told you to listen to your gut. And my gut tells me to keep you close.”
“I don’t want you to babysit me, Royce.”
“Apparently I’ve not been clear. You interest me, Lauren Reynolds, like no other woman has in a very long time. I want an excuse to stay with you. Now, I just need to hear you say you want me to stay.”
She did want him to stay but he confused her, sent her mixed messages. “Where did you sleep last night?”
“I didn’t.”
“You didn’t sleep? Were you that worried about these calls?”
“I dozed off leaning against the couch at some point,” he said, dodging the question.
She studied him a long moment, reading between the lines of his many mixed messages. He was worried and he wasn’t someone to worry without cause. He thought she was in trouble and no matter what his motivation, his duty, or his interest in her, it mattered to her that he was here for her.
She brushed her hand over her cheek. ”You can’t stay with me if you’re not going to sleep. You have to be exhausted.”
“I’m not promising either of us are going to get any sleep.”
Heat and nerves collided inside her at those words. She wanted Royce, and yet, she was way over her head with him, inexperienced and vulnerable, two things she didn’t like to feel. She was too drawn to this man and it scared her.
“How about we go to my place so I can shower and change and pick up some things?” he asked, continuing. “Then, we can hunker down here and watch a movie, or I can beat you at tic tac toe. I don’t care what. Anything that will get your mind off this mess.”
“I have work I need to do,” she said, “but... yes. Okay. I think it might do me some good to escape a bit.”
“Perfect. So let’s eat this bag of donuts and you can do whatever women do in the morning to get ready, and we’ll take off.” He released her and reached for the bag and they turned on the news and chatted. But any relaxation Lauren felt ended quickly as a media clip of her and Royce, rushing from the hotel flashed on the screen. Then another of the crowd gasping as something was thrown all over them.
Lauren was glad she’d just finished off her donut. She was no longer hungry. “He wants attention,” she said, without looking at Royce. “He got it.”
“He?”
She glanced at him. “Gut feeling.”
“Ah,” he said. “Well. It’s all over the news. Why not file that police report?”
“Someone throwing alcohol at us is in the news,” she said. “My phone calls are not. And you and I both know the police will do less than what you’re doing and someone will blab. This kind of thing feeds copycats. I don’t need to invite that kind of attention to me, or anyone in a similar position on a tough case.”
“Are you confident this is about the case?”
She inhaled and let it out. “I don’t know. I have ticking clocks and one day marked off a calendar. How do I know what that means? Logic says it’s this case though. That’s all I can go on.”
“Do you have your files on your computer? Can you go through them and make a list of the most likely suspects?”
“Royce, you were FBI. Is there even one of the perps you took down that would send you a Christmas card?”
“No,” he said. “But I know the ones that were the most vicious and the most likely to lash out. We need to start there.”
“I have my files.”
“Then when we get back here, we’ll go through them. We’ll get this behind you. I promise.”
Lauren wasn’t one to lean on other people, but in that moment, she was secretly far more thankful for that promise than she was willing to admit to anyone, even him. And not because she didn’t appreciate his efforts. Because she knew that if she let him know just how rattled she was, if she admitted it to him, she’d have to admit it to herself. The way she compartmentalized the bad stuff that came with her job didn’t work that way. There was an order to the way she dealt with things. She had to maintain control. Not Royce.
***
Several hours later, Lauren shivered as she stepped off the elevator and into the corridor outside her apartment. “Well, we didn’t beat the rain,” she said, shivering from the cold droplets that lingered on her black jeans and red t-shirt, as well as her hair. “I hope the sandwiches we walked two blocks for are worth getting wet over. I’ve never tried this place.”