CHAPTER ELEVEN

      ROWAN WOKE TO a warm and touch-happy man in her bed and didn’t mind his presence at all. Not the circle of his arms or his sleepy good morning. Not the way he kept one hand on her stomach even as he rolled over to check his phone.

      ‘What time do you have to be at work?’ he mumbled.

      She muttered something about six o’clock and pulled his phone towards her so that she could see the time more clearly. She groaned—six o’clock being forty minutes away and all.

      ‘I’ve got to get up. What time are you and the gang heading back today? Because you’re welcome to stay here this morning. Just lock up on your way out.’

      ‘You know what I remember best about my mother?’ he said as he pulled her to him and placed a kiss on her temple. ‘Whenever my father had to leave for work, be it for a day or for a fortnight, she always got up and saw him off, and he always left smiling. Even back then I liked her priorities.’

      Rowan remembered back to those days in far-flung countries when her parents hadn’t even bothered to tell her where they were going. She’d simply wake to an amah or the housekeeper telling her they were gone. Could be why Rowan liked her job so much nowadays. Knowing where people were and what they were doing just flat-out worked for her on a psychological level. That kind of information was important to her. It made her feel secure.

      ‘Was she a stay-at-home mum, your mum?’

      ‘Depends on your definition. Companies used to come to her with their figures for analysis. She was a mathematician—an incredibly bright one. I think that’s where we all got our smarts from.’

      ‘She sounds like a remarkable woman.’

      ‘Life is full of them.’ He turned his head, his eyes as penetrating as any laser. ‘You’re one.’

      ‘Trust me—I am not that smart.’

      ‘You’re a driven, focused, impressively networked problem-solver. And you know I’m more than halfway gone on you. And now we need to get out of this bed before I derail all your good intentions when it comes to you being on time for work.’

      Rowan slid out of bed with a light in her heart. She shared her toiletries and her shower with him and smirked her satisfaction when he emerged, hair still spiky and wet, smelling faintly of ginger and roses. She ground beans and made coffee with the sinfully expensive machine that had been a fortieth birthday present to herself, and watched his eyes glaze over when he lifted the steaming black brew to his lips.

      This man practically turned into a biddable little lamb in exchange for a morning cup of coffee.

      Something to remember.

      By the time he was on his second cup she was almost ready to walk out through the door. ‘You’ll lock up behind you?’

      He nodded and set the cup down. ‘So … Me coming here to see you during the week. You coming up to the beach house when you can. Is that going to work for you? Because if it does … if you want to try to build some kind of ongoing relationship with me … I’m all for it.’

      ‘An exclusive relationship?’

      ‘I don’t share.’ His eyes flashed hot with temper. ‘We do this and you’re mine and no one else’s. And I’m yours.’

      ‘Yes.’

      She wanted to crawl into his lap and stay there for a week. Gorge herself stupid on him and let him feast on her. She wanted this man and all that he was offering. There would be spats with him, because he wasn’t a malleable soul and neither was she. There was a good chance that she would want more than he could give.

      But she contented herself with kissing him slow and sweet and savouring this moment of pure happiness. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Yes, I think that would work.’