Zack studied the wound in his arm in the mirror. Carefully, he stretched his arm, but the pain increased. The bleeding had started up again, but thankfully, it wasn’t as bad. He’d forgotten how much getting shot hurts. But this wound would heal just like the last one had. If only people would stop shooting at him.

He groaned and turned away from the mirror as he finished drying himself off. The shower was refreshing, and he’d love to lie down and take a nap, but there were too many things in his life that needed to be straightened out. The most important being the woman downstairs who had his mind whirling in confusion.

Whitney really wasn’t that pretty... well, maybe she was in a way. Her hazel eyes changed colors depending on her moods. He really liked to see her riled, though. Zack grinned. Her eyes nearly shot out flames of fire.

However, the way she dressed had him puzzled. He shook his head. She was not trying to be feminine at all. She wore a tan buttoned shirt that looked to be a size bigger with a dark blue suit jacket that practically drowned her. Oh, and her baggy slacks were something he hadn’t seen women wear for a while. He groaned. How old was she? The clothes she wore could be in fashion for a sixty-year-old woman. And her ugly shoes... He just hoped they were comfortable.

Were all female FBI agents that unfashionable?

But it had surprised him to see her take such interest in the furnishings of the townhouse, especially the paintings. He’d never dated a woman who knew any historical famous painters. Most of them thought the Mona Lisa was the wife of one of the older US presidents. Being a fan of expensive paintings, that was something he missed talking about with a woman.

He had to admit, though, Whitney was rather sweet when she wanted to be. Even though they were playacting in the car earlier, he knew that if and when she finally gave her heart to a man, she’d give it earnestly. That man would be lucky to have Whitney’s full devotion – as long as he could put up with her stubbornness.

It would be hard for Zack to trust her with his life, especially since she hadn’t shown him yet that she was really trying to protect him. She hadn’t seemed focused, either, and that bothered him. The only time she appeared to be focused was when... His grin stretched wider. Was when she was staring into his eyes as if she’d been lost in a dream.

He pulled on a pair of jeans, grabbed his shirt along with the first aid kit, and headed downstairs. The mild scent of chicken wafted through the air, awakening his hunger. He’d been too worried about his injury and the hitman to think about eating. But now he was starving.

When he walked into the kitchen, Whitney stood by the stove, stirring a spoon around in a pan. Sitting on the counter were two cans of chicken noodle soup. He bit back a laugh. He’d bet good money that she didn’t know how to make a home-cooked meal.

“Smells good,” he said.

She jumped and spun around with the spoon still in her hand. Immediately, her gaze fell to his bare chest. Within seconds, her surprised expression softened, and her lips even parted. Once again, he held in a laugh. He’d also bet good money she wasn’t used to seeing a guy without his shirt.

He held up the bandages. “Will you wrap my arm again?”

She blinked her eyes as her stare moved off his chest and up to meet his gaze. She smiled.

“Yes, of course. Sit down.” She pointed to one of the kitchen chairs.

Her hands were gentle as she placed the ointment on his skin. She took great care while rubbing it around his wound before placing the bandage over it. As she wrapped the gauze around his arm, her hands shook slightly. He’d been watching her face, but she hadn’t glanced at him once. Something wasn’t right, and he wished she’d open up and talk to him.

“I’m glad the bullet went straight through,” he said.

“Yes, so am I, or we’d be at the hospital right now.”

She still refused to meet his gaze. Why?

“Thanks for making some soup,” he continued. “I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until I smelled it cooking.”

“I figured you’d be hungry, too. Since we are on the run, I didn’t want to make a complicated lunch.”

She had finished bandaging his arm and turned away. He quickly grasped her arm, which made her finally look at him.

“Why can’t we stay here?” he asked. “Nobody knows I live here since the townhouse is under my mother’s name.”

“I don’t want to give the senator’s hitman a chance to find you. After all, they somehow located you at the airport.” She arched an eyebrow.

“True, but I think it’s because I used one of my credit cards to pay for the flight.” Zack noticed her attention couldn’t stay on his eyes. Her gaze kept dipping to his bare chest. Now he knew why she didn’t want to meet his gaze before.

“No, Zack. You can’t use any credit cards from here on out. In fact, I won’t be able to use mine, either.”

“Why?”

“Because now they know you’re with me. I’m probably in as much danger as you are.”

He groaned in silence. “Are you kidding me?”

Her expression hardened – a look he was already used to seeing on her. He didn’t want to be chained to her every day until the trial.

“Yeah, I’m kidding...” She rolled her eyes. “Because I would joke over something this important.”

Grumbling, he paced the floor as his mind tried to come up with a way to get her out of his life. Perhaps he could offer to donate money to the FBI to make them take her back. That had worked with other agencies before. Maybe it wouldn’t work because they were the government.

“Let’s eat.”

Whitney’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. She had set the table with bowls, spoons, and the pot of soup.

They both sat down at the same time. He watched Whitney scoop the soup into her bowl before she moved the pan toward him. A touch of sadness flickered in her eyes, and for a brief moment, his gut twisted. Was she just as upset to be stuck with him as he was with her? That would definitely explain why she’d been so irritable since they met.

As he ate his soup, he watched her carefully. Her gaze didn’t leave her bowl. Maybe it was an ego thing, but he wasn’t used to being with a woman without her looking at him with stars in her eyes. Not that he wanted Whitney to look at him that way, but still... It was nice to be noticed.

As he took another spoonful, some of the soup spilled on his chest. It was hard to eat using his injured arm, but he definitely couldn’t eat using his left hand. Grumbling, he used the linen handkerchief she had placed on the table, to dab the spill from his chest. After taking a few more bites, the liquid spilled on his chest, again. Once more, he lifted the napkin to dry his skin.

“For the love of...” She huffed and pushed away from the table. The shirt he’d brought down was still draped over the edge of the counter. She yanked it off before throwing it at him. The garment smacked him right in the face.

“Would you put on your shirt?” she continued with a tight voice.

“What is wrong with you?” he snapped, jumping to his feet. “Did you really have to throw it at me?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to throw it so hard.”

“Listen lady, we need to get some things out in the open if we’ll be spending so much time together.” He moved right in front of her, staring at her. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, not cowering in the least. He liked that.

“Yes, we do.” Her gaze stays on his eyes this time. “And we’ll start with this.” She folded her arms. “You’ll remain fully clothed while in my company. Do you understand?”

This particular moment was not humorous, and yet, the situation made him grin. Or was it that he liked how rattled she’d become just because he was without a shirt?

“Really?” He took a step forward, which made her step back, but she bumped into the kitchen counter. He really should give her more room, but he loved to tease.

Leaning closer to her, he braced his arm against the counter. She was nearly blocked by the wall and his arm. Up this close, he detected a berry scent. He didn’t know if it was her shampoo or body wash. Her breathing escalated, but she kept her gaze locked with his.

“Yes, really,” she answered.

Her voice didn’t seem to be as forceful this time. It was obvious that his nearness was making her nervous. But strangely enough, his heartbeat quickened, too.

“And what if I don’t?” he asked, but in softer tones. “After all, until my wound heals, you’ll have to bandage my arm, which means I’ll have to remove my shirt.”

“That’s the only time your shirt comes off.”

He moved a little closer. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“No,” she answered too fast.

He ignored her and continued. “Why don’t you like seeing guys without their shirts?”

She took an uneven breath. “Who said I don’t like seeing guys without a shirt? It just so happens, that I’m quite comfortable seeing a half-naked guy. But you are the exception.”

He nodded. He definitely rattled her in some weird way. “Ah, I take that as a compliment.”

“Don’t.” She shook her head. “Because it’s not.”

They stared at each other for a few fast-breathing moments. Soon, he was tired of glaring at her, so he dropped his gaze to her mouth. Her lips parted, and her breathing accelerated. The urge to kiss her was overpowering, but he resisted. This couldn’t possibly be the right time for that.

Slowly, Zack pulled away. Her body relaxed, and a rush of air escaped her mouth.

Grinning, he shrugged on the shirt. “I guess I’ll have to keep my shirt on so you don’t get excited by staring at my muscular biceps.”

She snorted a laugh and sat back at the table. “Oh, please, Greyson. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I’m not.” He bent beside her, meeting her wide eyes again. Gently, he trailed his fingers over her cheek. “You were the one doing the flattering, sweetie. Not me. But I want to thank you for the entertainment.”

Grumbling, she knocked his hand away. “And that’s another thing, Greyson. I don’t want you touching me, either.”

He chuckled and sat back down. “If you say so, Agent Lawson. But I’m sure the longer we are alone together, you’re going to want me to touch you. In fact, I’ll bet good money on it.”

Zack’s grin stretched wider across his mouth. He couldn’t believe how much he looked forward to that moment.