He watched Hope eat like she’d been starving. What in the hell had her husband said or done to convince her she needed to look like a bag of bones? When he’d first entered her place, he noticed she wore sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt. He’d thought it was to possibly hide scars or bruises, but now, Abel considered the possibility that her body was unable to fight the chill in the air. And there was a chill; the AC seemed to pump out freezing air, even though the temp had fallen due to the storm outside. He’d seen the small unit above the window and planned to check it out after dinner.

Another moan escaped Hope’s lips and his dick jumped. Shit, he was not supposed to lust after a client. Not only was it unprofessional, but it was flat-out stupid. She was in a vulnerable state and didn’t need him eyeballing her tiny, heart-shaped lips.

Hope moaned around the last bite. “Jesus, Abel.”

Lost in his inappropriate thoughts, he could only muster a grunt in response. Abel wanted to adjust his cock, as it was uncomfortably bunched up in his jeans. Pulling his plate back, he used it to hide his erection.

Hope’s eyes popped open. “This is the best meal I’ve had in years.”

Glancing at her plate, he noticed it was empty, and she looked like she wanted to lick it clean. Abel made a trip into the small kitchenette. Placing his plate on the counter, he lifted the pan of food and brought it into the living room, along with a spatula. Without asking, Abel scooped a second helping of lasagna onto her plate. To his surprise, Hope didn’t protest, but greedily started eating.

He smiled inwardly. Every woman he’d ever dated always rejected his homemade pasta dishes. One had even told him the body couldn’t differentiate between pasta, rice, or a cupcake. Abel had just served her a salad and waited for the date to be over.

While Hope ate, he walked to the door where Lex had left his bag of supplies. Abel told Hope that they would stay in Thea and Lex’s house for the two weeks that they were gone, but he soon developed a better idea. He was going to start calling in old favors. Lex was paying him well and Abel decided that renting a small place just outside of town would be feasible. To his understanding, Hope would continue to work at the clinic, though he knew this was something that placed her in danger. But Lex had conveyed this was a deal breaker for Hope. She wouldn’t agree to a bodyguard if she was forced to quit the clinic.

Abel commended her for wanting to support Thea while she was gone, but he couldn’t help but want to shake the woman and remind her about the threat Mark posed. At the same time, he wasn’t one to hide forever either. Hope’s life needed to continue, and Abel was here to make sure that happened without incident.

Pulling the equipment out of his bag, he called over his shoulder, “What’s your schedule like this week?”

“Five twelve-hour days, then Monday and Tuesday off,” she answered.

Abel smiled when he heard the fork scraping the plate. He would have to talk to Thea about the next few days. He needed time to formulate a plan, check out the work area, and get a few guys to track Mark’s whereabouts. The last part would be hard since he didn’t work for A2 Security anymore, but he was sure he had a few favors in the bag there, too. Pulling a motion sensor from the duffel, Abel stood and headed to the door.

“Where are you going?” Hope asked the second his hand touched the doorknob.

Abel turned back to her. “I’m going to set this motion sensor up outside. You want to watch?” Her eyes darted to the window, no doubt eyeing the rain still falling. “I just need to go to the covered porch area. No need to get wet.”

“Yeah, just let me get my shoes.” Hope shoved her feet into a pair of flip-flops.

He eyed her little toes as she shoved on the flip-flops. “No, you should wear tennis shoes.”

“Why?” she asked, slipping out of the bright yellow flip-flops and donning a pair of Nikes.

Opening the door, he gestured for her to stay behind him. “Just in case you ever have to run.” He stepped out into the cool night air. Rain still fell from the sky and lightning struck somewhere off in the distance. He didn’t think they had anything to worry about, but better safe than sorry.

“Oh.” Hope wrapped her arms around herself. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Have you ever tried to run in wet flip-flops?” Shaking her head, she followed him out the door. “Good, because it’s damn near impossible.” Scanning the area, Abel tipped his chin to the biker perched on his bike surveying the area. It’d been a steep price to pay for one night’s service, but Abel thought it well worth it.

“How long is he staying?”

Abel turned at the sound of her voice. The overhead light illuminated her face in a harsh, artificial glow, yet somehow still showcased her beauty. “He’s here until tomorrow morning.” Abel set up his inconspicuous surveillance and ran the wire through the door. “I am going to call a friend and move us to a different location.” He side-stepped Hope, and moved to continue threading the wire, but he didn’t miss the gleam in her eye. She was relieved that she wouldn’t lead Mark to Thea and Lex’s home.

“Good, but can I afford that?” She nibbled her bottom lip.

Abel smiled. “I can, and that’s all that matters.” Though he needed to be cautious with his money, he couldn’t imagine staying in this little efficiency with Hope now that Mark knew her whereabouts.

She cast him a wary glance. “I don’t know. I mean, this place is only a hundred bucks a week, and that’s inclusive.”

“Inclusive because it includes a husband who threatened your life and knows your whereabouts? Jesus. Stop trying to save a buck and let me worry about helping you save your life.” Abel hadn’t meant to sound like a dick, but he also didn’t desire to have the money discussion every time he intended to do something. If he needed cash from her, then he would bring it up. But since he planned on staying in the new place after this job was done, while taking on more private security jobs, it was a non-issue.

Hope pushed passed him and slammed the door behind her.

“Fuckin’ shit,” Abel muttered under his breath. Making fast work of setting up the system, he headed back inside. Glancing around, he found she was in the bathroom. Abel shut the front door and double checked each lock. Heading to the bathroom door, he noted she’d cleaned up the dishes and put everything away.

With a weary sigh, he knocked on the door. “Hope?” Her silence told him everything he needed to know. What the fuck was he supposed to say? Her safety was his priority. Stressing about funds wasn’t something he wanted her to do. “Hope, just listen to me.” He pressed his forehead against the door. “Maybe I was a bit insensitive back there, but you have to understand something—” The door flew open and Abel caught himself. Stepping back, he watched as Hope moved past him wearing a long sleep shirt and a pair of long johns.

Lifting her hair, she threw it into a messy bun. “Don’t worry about it.” Her tone implied he sure as hell should be worried about it.

How had this shit happened? How had he somehow entered the world of this passive aggressive shit women pulled when a man made any kind of sense in an argument.

In a flat voice she said, “It’s fine.”

He scoffed. “Is it?”

She nodded and pulled back the covers to the bed. “Yup.” Abel tried to meet her eyes, as she readied herself for bed. Avoiding his gaze, Hope slid under the covers, reached for the little lamp above the bed, and clicked it off.

He shook his head and quietly made his way back to the living area to grab more surveillance cameras and motion sensors. Even though he and Hope weren’t staying here, Abel wanted to keep an eye on the place while they were gone.

While he didn’t believe Mark was in town, the fact remained, someone was working for Mark in the stalking of Hope—stealing her sense of security and independence. He froze. Had he become so dense as to not understand how his earlier words had stripped away even more of her independence? He glanced at her sleeping frame, realizing he needed to formulate a heartfelt apology before speaking—words were really all he had to give, but she deserved more.

“I’m not a victim,” she murmured so softly, Abel thought she was sleep-talking. Then she added, “I don’t want you to see me as a victim.”

Abel lowered his hands and dropped the wires to the ground, understanding now how she’d been stung by his impertinence. He wondered, for the first time, if he’d treated all his clients this way. Had he been raw and unyielding? Perhaps. But wasn’t that his job? To keep the intended victim safe? And how was one to do that if they were too busy mollifying the client into a false sense of security. Still, as she silently watched him, he had to admit to himself that he did see her as a victim—it would be hard to see her any other way.

Lifting her hand in the darkness, Hope clicked on a light. “Do you know what I do for a living?”

“You’re a nurse.”

“What college did I graduate from?” Sitting up, she tucked her legs under herself. Her messy bun lopped to one side and her delicate fingers pushed a few strands behind her ear.

He didn’t know the answer to this question, but figured he could try and make an educated guess. Searching his brain for medical colleges in New York, he spoke the first one he could think of. “Weil Cornell?” He knew the inflection in his voice lent to the frown marring her face, but how the hell was he supposed to know all this?

Hope sighed. “Am I beautiful?” Her question stunned him into complete silence. Was she serious? “I am asking these things for a reason. A simple yes or no would suffice.”

Abel moved to the chair next to the bed and sat down. “Yes,” he answered honestly, and enjoyed the pink blush staining her cheeks. He took in her hazel, almond-shaped eyes, petite nose, and smooth, tan skin. She wasn’t like the women he found himself chasing—tall, blonde, statuesque, and well endowed—yet her tantalizing form held beauty and grace. Her gaze shone with intelligence and Abel respected that.

She nodded. “What is my husband’s name?”

“Mark Chambers.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How long was I married to him?”

“Eighteen months.” He knew that as a fact.

“What part of my body did he break to prove he was stronger than me?”

Abel gritted his teeth. “Your arm.” He got where she was going with this, and he didn’t like it. As a matter of fact, it forced him to take a long, hard look at how he viewed Hope.

“I am a Nurse Practitioner, I went to Harvard before transferring to Princeton.” She pulled the covers up and around her body. “You see me as a victim and not someone who has worked her entire life to accomplish a dream. You also don’t truly see me as a woman, but some pretty, delicate flower in need of your help.”

Abel opened his mouth to remind her that she did need his help, but closed it when he realized she wasn’t done.

“I see you, Abel. I was attracted to you the second you walked into the room, but I also saw how you looked at me. Like I was some project, or a chore—a way to get your old job back.” She shrugged a shoulder.

He leaned forward in his chair. “I see you as neither.” And he didn’t. Or did he? Fuck, he was confused. Her sad smile pulled at his heart strings.

“Okay then.” She lifted the covers and scooted back on the bed. “Come to bed with me.”

He reared back, stunned as shit. “What?”

“You heard me. I am attracted to you, and you said the same about me. Come to bed with me.”

Abel swallowed hard. “I can’t.”

She was silent for a moment, her fingers playing in the frayed bedsheets. “Have you ever slept with a client?”

Abel’s mouth formed the words no, but his head stopped them before he could finish. He had slept with a woman who hired him years ago, but this situation was different. His former client hadn’t been in the vulnerable situation Hope found herself in.

Laughing softly, she lowered the covers. “See? I’m a victim to you.” She rolled over and Abel sat quietly until her breathing steadied and she drifted off to sleep.

He moved a hand to his lap, palming his erection. If only she knew how much he wanted to slip between the sheets with her. Growling in frustration, Abel quietly headed to the bathroom. Maybe if he took care of business, he’d stop popping wood every time she opened her mouth.