, pacing the small living room with the ph

ce crackling with skepticism. "And neither do good looks, which

grew warm. "He

where are we landing?" Bridgette demanded. "And more

nced at the closed apartment door as if Julian

. Julian stood there, holding a brown paper bag that smelle

wave of guilt washed over her, as if he'd caught he

ket. His grey t-shirt was damp with sweat, clinging to the hard planes of his chest and abdomen. The fabric outlined every musc

out waiting for a reply. She practically fled to the kitche

fashioned ringtone echoed in the apartment. I

phone from his pocket. He turned slightly away, his back angled t

-his jaw tightening, his back straightening. A low, deferential voic

o the phone. Then, after

er she'd glimpsed was gone. He was ju

ounter, trying to sound casual.

es. "I'm going to the mall this afternoon. I coul

ce offering, a gesture of care. A way o

. He seemed to consider her words-or maybe something e

he said, h

th twitched again-that ghost of a smile that did strange things to her insides

id a stupid

n. She was definitely getting him a new phone. The best one she could find. It

she thought, and this t