Bridget cracked her eyes open and lifted her arm to check her watch. Crap, it was six-thirty in the morning. They’d overslept.

“Victor, wake up.” She shook his shoulder.

Last night had been a night to remember. Turner’s vigor and stamina were back. Even as tired as he’d been after his long flight, he’d made love to her for hours. She’d lost count of the orgasms.

No wonder he was sleeping like a dead man.

“Victor, we don’t have any clothes here. You need to get back to my place and change.”

He mumbled something and turned around, presenting her with his very fine posterior.

She sighed, debating whether she could fondle him a little to wake him up. But then one thing might lead to another, and before she knew it, they would be making love again. But regrettably, there was no time for that.

“Victor, you said you had a morning appointment. You’ll have to cancel.”

Groaning, he turned around. “Is there a chance Ingrid left a welcome home basket with coffee in it?”

“I doubt it, but I’ll check the kitchen. In the meantime, get dressed.”

He groaned again.

Not surprisingly, the kitchen was devoid of any food products. The cabinets were new, and even though the fridge wasn’t, it was empty.

She padded back to the bedroom. “Sorry to disappoint you, but there is nothing there. We can stop on the way at a drive-through Starbucks.”

Victor finished buttoning up his shirt. “No time. I need to get back, grab a one minute shower, change, and leave right away.”

“I’ll make coffee while you shower.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They spent the drive home in silence, not because they were awkward with each other after last night’s marathon sex session, or because they were too spent to summon the energy.

Well, maybe Victor was.

Bridget’s excuse was more mundane. She had a hard time starting the day without a toothbrush and without a cup of coffee or two. With only a drink of water from the bathroom faucet, her mouth felt disgusting, and she wasn’t in the mood to talk.

She should’ve planned this better. Except, the sex should have happened before the dinner date, and the trip to the renovated apartment should have been just a short visit, not a sleepover.

Back at her place, Victor rushed into the shower while she kicked off her sexy high-heeled shoes and padded to the kitchen to make coffee and a sandwich to go for Turner.

He ended up taking both to go.

“Drive safely,” she called after him. “It’s better to be late than getting into an accident.”

He waved a dismissive hand and blew her a kiss goodbye.

With a sigh, Bridget headed to the bathroom to finally brush her teeth. It was a shame he’d scheduled a morning meeting instead of a morning cuddle with her in bed. She’d missed him when he’d been gone, especially at night when the bed felt big and empty and cold without him in it.

Soon, they would be moving into his apartment, and Bridget didn’t know how she felt about it. Getting used to living outside the keep, away from her family and friends, wouldn’t be easy.

On the other hand, it was exciting.

A new beginning. After all, she would be coming to work every day, so it wasn’t as if she was saying goodbye. It was a good thing.

She should start packing their things.

Wrapped in a towel, she entered the walk-in closet and looked at the clothes hanging in neat rows, hers on one side, Victor’s on the other. Two suitcases each should suffice.

Victor hadn’t had time to unpack, and the suitcase he’d taken with him to South America lay open on the floor, its contents spilling out. It had probably unnerved him to no end to leave it like that. Victor liked his things organized.

Would he mind if she unpacked for him?

There was no reason he should. She’d handled his briefs and socks before, adding them to her laundry. He’d never voiced any objections. If she found anything that seemed like business-related material, she wasn’t going to look at it, just leave it on his desk in Julian’s old room where he’d set up shop.

Bridget got dressed, had another cup of coffee, and returned to the closet to take care of the unpacking. Some of the clothes went into the laundry basket, some into the dry-clean bin, and those which he hadn’t used went back on the hangers. She left the few pieces of equipment that were at the bottom of the suitcase on the floor next to it, then moved them to one of the shelves.

Now that everything was organized, she would have an easier time packing for the move.

The last item was Turner’s toiletries tote, which Bridget took with her to the bathroom. Toothbrush, toothpaste, a couple of unused disposable shavers, deodorant and aftershave.

That was it.

Bridget looked at the items lined up on the counter, wondering what was missing.

Duh, there was no shampoo and no conditioner.

Bridget smiled. Obviously, Victor had no use for those.

But there was something else that should’ve been there and wasn’t. His medications.

Perhaps he’d put them in his laptop bag. It made sense. The bag was a carry on item while the suitcase went into the belly of the plane. Humans needed to keep their medications on hand.

Except, she had a nagging feeling that Victor hadn’t.

Bridget opened the drawer where he kept his pills and took the containers out. To find out, all she had to do was to look at the date he’d gotten them, and multiply dosage times the number of days he should’ve been taking them, and then count the number of remaining pills and see if the numbers corresponded.

They didn’t.

Turner had stopped taking them exactly nine days ago.