"I should go." Turner kissed Bridget's warm cheek.

She murmured something that sounded like have a nice day at work, then tugged the blanket up to her chin. The woman liked to sleep, and he usually left early in the morning, with her tucked under the duvet.

According to Bridget, it was uncommon for an immortal to need more than four hours of sleep, but she enjoyed staying in bed longer.

It was becoming a routine, one he had to admit he enjoyed. Turner stayed the night, then rushed to shower and change in the morning before heading for the office. He'd thought about bringing a change of clothes so that he could skip going home and head directly to the office, but that small and seemingly unimportant move could've been interpreted as taking their relationship to the next level, which was a bad idea.

Bridget was perfect, and he could easily imagine himself spending his life with her even though she didn't expect a commitment from him. Smart, passionate, beautiful, she was everything he could have ever wanted in a partner. But even an unfeeling bastard like him knew it was wrong to encourage her emotional attachment.

His prospects weren't great.

He either died during the transition or didn't transition at all.

If he didn't, he had another couple of decades or three at best, provided the chemo worked, and provided no one offed him before his body gave up on him.

There was a very slim chance that he was a Dormant, and an even slimmer chance that he would survive his transformation. The right thing to do was keep Bridget emotionally distant, so she wouldn't be too heartbroken when he either perished during the change, or left because he was human and could not be with her for all the reasons they were both well aware of.

For her sake, it would be better to end things sooner rather than later. They still needed to work together on the project, but they were both mature enough to handle their mutual attraction and limit themselves to a professional relationship.

Yeah, right.

Who was he fooling?

He wasn't that noble. He was a selfish bastard.

For the first time in his life, Turner had a woman who meant something to him, and he wasn't willing to give her up. Until Bridget told him to leave, he was going to stay.

Besides, the two weeks she'd demanded were almost up. He might be dead soon, and all that soul searching was pointless.

Unless he was willing to postpone the induction. After all, there was no urgency. Nothing would change if he waited another month or even longer than that.

The time it took him to recover from his injury caused delays, meaning that he still had several unfinished projects. Turner wasn't about to leave his customers to hang out to dry. He took their money with a promise to deliver, and he never went back on his promise. Which meant that he needed more time to tie up loose ends.

"Come back to bed," Bridget said sleepily.

"I wish I could, but it's after six in the morning. I need to get ready for work."

Pulling the blanket with her, Bridget sat up in bed. "You are your own boss. You don't need to clock in."

"Being my own boss only means that my business depends on me, which translates into long work days and sometimes nights. I'm already behind schedule because of the injury."

"How unfortunate."

Finished with lacing his shoes, Turner walked over to the bed. "I'll be back tonight," he said before leaning to kiss her.

She let him peck her on the lips then pushed him back. "Why don't you ever invite me to your place? Is it a filthy bachelor pad?"

He chuckled. "You know me better than that."

"I do, which means that I know your house is squeaky clean with nothing out of place. You just don't want me in your personal space."

Turner rubbed the back of his shaved head.

Bridget wasn't wrong, but she wasn't right either. After all, he'd let Brian spruce up his apartment because he'd anticipated inviting her over.

The thing was, Turner was a loner who never invited company to his home. Brian had been there to do a job, and so had his cleaning service, which he scheduled for when he wasn't there. Naturally, there were cameras all over the place, monitoring what they were doing, the feed going to a hidden laptop.

Nothing over the internet for hackers to break into.

He'd spent his life alone and was used to the solitude. Evidently, old habits and the comfort they provided were stronger than his will. For someone his age, they were incredibly difficult to break. But it was even more difficult to explain himself and admit the weakness.

"It's not that I don't want you there."

Bridget rolled her eyes.

"I know it sounds like a line, but it's not. I never had anyone over. This old leopard finds it difficult to change his spots."

As Bridget leaned forward and took his hand, the blanket slid down to reveal her perfect breasts. "You know what's the best way to get over a phobia?"

"I do." It was to confront it.

"I'm coming over this evening and spending the night." She waggled her brows. "Take a deep breath because I'm going to bring my toothbrush and plant it on your bathroom vanity." She gasped dramatically, covering her lips with three fingers. "I might even bring a hairbrush and a few lotions."

Her comical threats unraveled the stress knot that had formed in his gut, and he smiled. "As long as you don't hang your pantyhose over the shower door, I'm looking forward to it. We can order takeout."

With eyes peeled wide, Bridget put a hand over her heart, covering one plump breast. "You order takeout? What if an assassin impersonates the delivery person?"

Turner leaned and kissed her lips. "You may joke as much as you want, but that is not a laughing matter. I order takeout and then go pick it up myself."

All humor gone, Bridget let her hand drop. "I can't imagine living in constant danger. Do you have that many enemies?"

"No, but it only takes one. And I certainly have a few."

"You should move in here. It's safer."

"With you?"

"Why not? You come here every day straight from work and leave in the morning to go back to work. We are practically living together already."

He shook his head. "You know there is no future for us."

"There might be." Her voice quivered.

"A million to one chance is an optimistic estimate."

"If you forget about your crazy idea to attempt transition, we can be together for years."

He cupped her cheek. "I wouldn't do that to you. You don't want to watch me get old and die."

A tear slid down her cheek. "There are no guarantees in life, and no one has a crystal ball to see the future. I would rather take one day at a time and make the most of it than dwell on what might or might not come to pass."

"You're a smart woman."

She smiled. "I know, that's why you fancy me."

Turner let his eyes drop down to her breasts. "Well, there are a few more things I fancy about you." He leaned and kissed one puckered nipple.

Bridget smoothed her hand over his bald head. "I guess you are staying after all."

He kicked off his shoes. "I'm a weak man."

She chuckled and moved sideways to make room. "Right. You have no weaknesses."

He lay down beside her and pulled her into his arms. "I have one."