Pain pulsed through his chest. That lying, traitorous bitch.
He’d trained her too well.
Chapter Thirteen
“I’m a really horrible cook,” Elizabeth said.
His eyes slowly opened.
She smiled, feeling her stomach twist in nervousness.
Then he smiled back at her. “Morning, baby.”
His voice was deep and rough and sexy enough to make her panties wet. The tray in her hands trembled a bit and that made the silverware clatter.
He sat up, frowning, as his gaze immediately drifted to the tray she clutched so desperately. “What’s that?”
Okay, so she’d already admitted her cooking wasn’t top notch, but the food wasn’t completely unrecognizable. It should be pretty obvious that she was carrying—“Breakfast,” Elizabeth blurted. “We need it before we, you know, head off to work.”
Like normal people. Because we’re normal now.
His gaze was still on the tray. On the slightly soggy eggs and the pancakes that weren’t circular but were rather some unusual, not quite discernible shape.
“You cooked for me,” he said, still staring at the tray.
He should have actually taken the tray by that point. Since he hadn’t, she thrust it at him. “You’re welcome.” Now she was starting to just feel foolish. She’d never before made breakfast for anyone. But, jeez, when a guy nearly died for you, a girl had to express her appreciation some way.
He took the tray. Put it on his lap. And kept staring up at her like she was insane.
Right then, she had another memory. One that made her lips twitch a bit. “And to think,” she murmured. “When we first met, you said I was the one who didn’t know how to say thank you.”
She started to turn away, but his hand flew out in a lightning-fast move and caught her wrist. Elizabeth looked back at him.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
Heat stained her cheeks. “Like I said, you’re welcome.”
“No one…no one ever made me breakfast before.” He was staring at the tray of soggy eggs like they were some kind of gourmet meal.
“Saxon…” Surely his mom had made him breakfast when he’d been little. But…as she stared at him, she realized the guy was staring at the soggy eggs like they were some kind of precious gift.
He pulled her onto the bed. “You’re going to split it with me, right?” He took a bite of the eggs. Those ridiculous, soggy eggs.
“Yes,” she whispered, “I’ll split it with you.”
He offered her a fork filled with eggs—eggs that were dripping off the utensil. She took it, opening her mouth. And when he smiled at her, he didn’t look like the dangerous man she’d met in Miami.
He looks like the man I love.
She was in so much trouble.
***
Saxon had extra clothes in the trunk of his car, and he changed at Elizabeth’s cottage before they headed out for the winery.
When they arrived, he hurried around to her side of the car and opened the door for her. As he stood there, staring down at her, she remembered what it was like to ride through Miami with him on the back of a motorcycle, holding on as tightly as she could.
She rose from the car and let her body brush against his. “Maybe it doesn’t matter if you’re the fighter or the man in the suit.” Her hand pressed against his chest. “Maybe all that matters…is that it’s you.” Then she rose onto her toes and kissed his lips.
His hands settled around her shoulders as he held her close.
She started to hope then. To think that everything was going to be okay. They’d escaped Miami and the nightmare back there. They were together, and every time that Saxon touched her, she seemed to light up from the inside.
He escorted her to her office. Gave her a wink before walking away.
She stared after him and she wondered—
“It’s that way, huh?”
Sloan’s voice came from the right. Her head jerked toward him, and she found him lounging in the hallway, watching her.
“Figured it,” he added, lips twisting, “when he said that you two had been working together so closely…for years.” Then he advanced toward her, his expression angry. “Is the fact that you’re screwing the boss going to mean that I have to watch my job? Am I going to be hitting the street so that you can take over?”
Once, words like that would have made her cringe. Now she just stared at him and shook her head. “You should really be careful what you say.”
His frown deepened. “Why? You gonna run to the big boss and tell him—”
“You don’t want him to know what you’ve said. Trust me.” She turned away from him. “There are worse things than losing a job.”
He grabbed her shoulder and spun her back around. “I’ve put blood and tears into this job! Your lover didn’t know shit about the wine business until he hired me! Now that we’re operational and ready to make a profit, don’t think that I’m just going to be shut out—”
“Take your hand off me.” Her voice was flat. Lethal. But after being held with a gun to her head, this guy—this pompous ass—wasn’t scaring her. He was pissing her off.
His hand fell away.
“This isn’t your company. It’s his. He can fire you if he wants, and you be assured that if you ever grab me or another employee again,” she bared her teeth in a hard smile, “your ass will be hitting the curb.”
He blinked and actually backed up a step. Damn straight. After facing a hit man, no jerk was going to intimidate her.
“Now I’ve got work to do.” She slammed her door in his face and marched back to her desk. “Dick.”
***
Saxon’s body tensed as he watched Sloan spin on his heel and began to stride angrily away from Elizabeth’s office. The guy had only taken two steps, though, when he staggered to a stop.
He stopped the moment he saw Saxon.
“I’d like a word with you,” Saxon murmured. “In my office.” He was rather impressed by how calm his voice sounded. He turned and headed toward his office, not bothering to glance back and see if the guy was following him.
The f**king jerk.
Saxon strode past the reception area, pausing just long enough to flash a reassuring smile at Vanessa.
But as soon as he entered his office, his smile vanished. He turned on Sloan and the fury within him boiled.