coworkers of all time and Nicola was carrying just as heavy as load as before failed to dampen her good mood. She could do the most pressing tasks tonight, after she had tucked Laila into bed and finished grocery shopping. Who needed sleep, anyway?
“Jamila,” she called.
Silence.
“Sirena?”
Again silence.
Sighing, Nicola closed her bag. Between half-hour bathroom breaks and two-hour-long lunch sabbaticals, the girls barely had time to sit at their desks.
“Your forehead is healing nicely. I’m pleased.”
Nicola’s head snapped up, her gaze colliding with the golden brown of Koldo’s. Instantly her heart sped into a frenzied beat. “You’re here.”
Last night she’d lain in that hospital bed thinking about him, wanting so badly to hear his voice, to draw in his scent, to feel his heat, to lean on his intensity. His honesty. His strength.
Now he was standing just in front of her desk, wearing a black shirt and pants, the dark shade the perfect contrast to the bronze of his skin, making him more beautiful than any model and sexy in a way that should have been illegal. Seriously. Giant warrior man had her drooling.He was total Drogo hot.
A scar bisected the side of his forehead, adding an air of danger. His lashes were thick and black. His nose was aristocratic, regal, and she’d never been one to think beards were a male must-have, but Koldo changed her mind, the dark shadow accentuating the masculine purity of his jaw.
His head tilted to the side, his study of her intensifying. “You’re a strange mix of emotion and energy today. Happy yet anxious, enthusiastic yet fatigued.” Expression stern, he added, “You must take better care of yourself, Nicola. That’s an order.”
She cleared her throat and shifted in her seat. “Yes, well, I’m waiting for you to teach me how. Hint, hint.” That was the safest response.
He remained stoic as he turned and walked to the far wall, where he traced his finger over the peeling paint.
Hands trembling, she smoothed the wrinkles from the white cotton button-up she wore. Yes, he’d said he wasn’t interested in her romantically, and that was fine. Really. She hadn’t wanted to pout about it or anything like that—or try and change his mind. Therefore, she wasn’t sure why she’d raced home from the hospital to shower and dress, spending a little extra time on her makeup and hair, just in case he showed up. Really.
“That’s what I came to discuss with you,” he said. “I hoped to begin your training today, but that’s proven impossible. I have just returned from a mission, and have been unable to prepare.”
“A mission? Oh. What kind?” she asked, trying for a casual tone.
He rolled his shoulders, saying, “The kind that involves an army.”
Fighting some kind of enemy? “Using guns?”
“No.”
“Daggers?”
“Of a sort.” He strode to the only window and checked the lock. “Beginning tomorrow, I’ll require half an hour out of your day, every day. You’ll devote yourself to me, and only to me.”
Just half an hour? Surely that wasn’t disappointment swimming laps in her veins. “It’s yours. But are you sure that’s enough? I mean, don’t we have a lot of ground to cover?”
He stiffened, saying, “We do.” He massaged the back of his neck. “I’ll give you forty-five minutes and—” He shook his head, narrowed his eyes. “That’s not enough, either, is it? I’ll give you...an hour.” The last was gritted from him, as if granting her an hour was a hard decision to make.
Half of her was insulted. The other half of her was too excited to care. “Thank you.”
“And when we’re apart,” he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken, “you’ll not worry. You’ll not stress, as you humans say. You’ll do only the things that make you happy.”
“Great in theory, but how do you suggest I go about that?”
He faced her, his brow furrowing as he considered her words. “Perhaps you should listen to jokes.”
A
“Jamila,” she called.
Silence.
“Sirena?”
Again silence.
Sighing, Nicola closed her bag. Between half-hour bathroom breaks and two-hour-long lunch sabbaticals, the girls barely had time to sit at their desks.
“Your forehead is healing nicely. I’m pleased.”
Nicola’s head snapped up, her gaze colliding with the golden brown of Koldo’s. Instantly her heart sped into a frenzied beat. “You’re here.”
Last night she’d lain in that hospital bed thinking about him, wanting so badly to hear his voice, to draw in his scent, to feel his heat, to lean on his intensity. His honesty. His strength.
Now he was standing just in front of her desk, wearing a black shirt and pants, the dark shade the perfect contrast to the bronze of his skin, making him more beautiful than any model and sexy in a way that should have been illegal. Seriously. Giant warrior man had her drooling.He was total Drogo hot.
A scar bisected the side of his forehead, adding an air of danger. His lashes were thick and black. His nose was aristocratic, regal, and she’d never been one to think beards were a male must-have, but Koldo changed her mind, the dark shadow accentuating the masculine purity of his jaw.
His head tilted to the side, his study of her intensifying. “You’re a strange mix of emotion and energy today. Happy yet anxious, enthusiastic yet fatigued.” Expression stern, he added, “You must take better care of yourself, Nicola. That’s an order.”
She cleared her throat and shifted in her seat. “Yes, well, I’m waiting for you to teach me how. Hint, hint.” That was the safest response.
He remained stoic as he turned and walked to the far wall, where he traced his finger over the peeling paint.
Hands trembling, she smoothed the wrinkles from the white cotton button-up she wore. Yes, he’d said he wasn’t interested in her romantically, and that was fine. Really. She hadn’t wanted to pout about it or anything like that—or try and change his mind. Therefore, she wasn’t sure why she’d raced home from the hospital to shower and dress, spending a little extra time on her makeup and hair, just in case he showed up. Really.
“That’s what I came to discuss with you,” he said. “I hoped to begin your training today, but that’s proven impossible. I have just returned from a mission, and have been unable to prepare.”
“A mission? Oh. What kind?” she asked, trying for a casual tone.
He rolled his shoulders, saying, “The kind that involves an army.”
Fighting some kind of enemy? “Using guns?”
“No.”
“Daggers?”
“Of a sort.” He strode to the only window and checked the lock. “Beginning tomorrow, I’ll require half an hour out of your day, every day. You’ll devote yourself to me, and only to me.”
Just half an hour? Surely that wasn’t disappointment swimming laps in her veins. “It’s yours. But are you sure that’s enough? I mean, don’t we have a lot of ground to cover?”
He stiffened, saying, “We do.” He massaged the back of his neck. “I’ll give you forty-five minutes and—” He shook his head, narrowed his eyes. “That’s not enough, either, is it? I’ll give you...an hour.” The last was gritted from him, as if granting her an hour was a hard decision to make.
Half of her was insulted. The other half of her was too excited to care. “Thank you.”
“And when we’re apart,” he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken, “you’ll not worry. You’ll not stress, as you humans say. You’ll do only the things that make you happy.”
“Great in theory, but how do you suggest I go about that?”
He faced her, his brow furrowing as he considered her words. “Perhaps you should listen to jokes.”
A
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