seashell.
“You have to trust me, Sofia.”
Her gaze flicked to Murphy’s. He was asking a lot of her, but this was her sister they were talking about. Something in his eyes urged her to take a leap of faith. “Okay.”
“Good.”
“But, you can’t tell her she was drugged.”
“Why not?”
She set down her mug, sighed. “Lulu’s not like most people. She’s … she’ll be devastated if you tell her she was rolling.”
He raised a brow. “You know the slang.”
“I’m not Lulu.”
“Meaning?”
“I’ve been around. Don’t tell her she was drugged. She’ll think it’s the end of the world.”
He considered her plea, met her gaze. “No promises.”
As if that would matter. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever trust a man again. Desperate to numb her raw nerves, Sofie retrieved the whiskey bottle. Only this time instead of spiking her coffee, she poured a straight shot. “So, Mr. Bodyguard,” she said, tipping the glass to her lips. “How are you going to protect my sister?”
Chapter Nine
“If you’re not out in three minutes, Jean-Pierre, I’m leaving without you.” Rudy pounded on the bathroom door, glanced at his watch. “Two minutes and fifty-eight seconds.”
The door whipped opened. “Calm down, Bunny. I am ready.”
If he weren’t so ticked, he would’ve admired the view. An avid runner, Jean-Pierre had a killer body—buff torso, rock-hard thighs—and a package that belied his average height. Instead of voicing his admiration, he stated the obvious. “You’re in your briefs.”
“Oui.” Jean-Pierre breezed past him, into their bedroom.
Rudy smirked. “But you’re ready.”
“Oui.
Une minute
.”
The doorbell rang. Rudy threw up his hands. He’d wanted to leave an hour ago, but Jean-Pierre had stalled saying it was rude to show up uninvited at someone’s house before dawn. Rudy wasn’t feeling polite. He certainly didn’t think of Colin Murphy as
polite.
He wanted to drive over to check on Lulu and Sofie in person. He trudged down the stairs of the two-story townhouse, as bristly as a nylon brush. Sleeping had been impossible last night. He opened the door, narrowed his eyes. “I want to talk to you.”
“Ditto.” Jake Leeds walked past him and jogged up the stairs.
Rudy followed, admiring his best friend’s husband’s attire. The man was a walking Gap store. Faded denim jacket pulled over a classic navy T-shirt. Blue baseball cap. Work boots. The jeans—low rise, slim fit—were especially nice.
“You better not be checking out my ass, Gallow.”
“Get over yourself,” Rudy said, although he’d been doing just that. If Afia were here she would have been ogling right along with him. They both agreed her husband had the butt of a Greek God. The rest of him deserved equal worship. Short blond hair. Killer green eyes. Jean-Pierre once commented he had the lips of Brad Pitt. True. No wonder kissing had become Afia’s favorite past time.
“Where’s JP?” “Golden-boy” asked as he crested the stairs.
“Getting dressed.”
“What’s for breakfast?”
Rudy rolled his eyes. “You don’t have food at home?”
“I didn’t want to bang around in the kitchen. Afia was sleeping.”
“So what?” Earlier this year, after the IRS had confiscated her house, and before she’d met Jake, Afia had spent a month as Rudy’s houseguest. Too polite to take his room, she’d crashed on the sofa. “Afia sleeps like the dead.”
“Not lately.” Jake pushed up the brim of his baseball cap and headed toward the kitchen. “I thought she was insatiable before, but now that we’re trying to have a baby … She’s killing me, man. Every time I turn around she wants to have sex.”
“My heart bleeds for you.” Rudy knew the P.I. was as hot for Afia as she was for him, and it wasn’t just about baby-making. No matter what the future held, no matter if they had zero or ten kids, they’d always be together, in love and in lust even after they’d
“You have to trust me, Sofia.”
Her gaze flicked to Murphy’s. He was asking a lot of her, but this was her sister they were talking about. Something in his eyes urged her to take a leap of faith. “Okay.”
“Good.”
“But, you can’t tell her she was drugged.”
“Why not?”
She set down her mug, sighed. “Lulu’s not like most people. She’s … she’ll be devastated if you tell her she was rolling.”
He raised a brow. “You know the slang.”
“I’m not Lulu.”
“Meaning?”
“I’ve been around. Don’t tell her she was drugged. She’ll think it’s the end of the world.”
He considered her plea, met her gaze. “No promises.”
As if that would matter. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever trust a man again. Desperate to numb her raw nerves, Sofie retrieved the whiskey bottle. Only this time instead of spiking her coffee, she poured a straight shot. “So, Mr. Bodyguard,” she said, tipping the glass to her lips. “How are you going to protect my sister?”
Chapter Nine
“If you’re not out in three minutes, Jean-Pierre, I’m leaving without you.” Rudy pounded on the bathroom door, glanced at his watch. “Two minutes and fifty-eight seconds.”
The door whipped opened. “Calm down, Bunny. I am ready.”
If he weren’t so ticked, he would’ve admired the view. An avid runner, Jean-Pierre had a killer body—buff torso, rock-hard thighs—and a package that belied his average height. Instead of voicing his admiration, he stated the obvious. “You’re in your briefs.”
“Oui.” Jean-Pierre breezed past him, into their bedroom.
Rudy smirked. “But you’re ready.”
“Oui.
Une minute
.”
The doorbell rang. Rudy threw up his hands. He’d wanted to leave an hour ago, but Jean-Pierre had stalled saying it was rude to show up uninvited at someone’s house before dawn. Rudy wasn’t feeling polite. He certainly didn’t think of Colin Murphy as
polite.
He wanted to drive over to check on Lulu and Sofie in person. He trudged down the stairs of the two-story townhouse, as bristly as a nylon brush. Sleeping had been impossible last night. He opened the door, narrowed his eyes. “I want to talk to you.”
“Ditto.” Jake Leeds walked past him and jogged up the stairs.
Rudy followed, admiring his best friend’s husband’s attire. The man was a walking Gap store. Faded denim jacket pulled over a classic navy T-shirt. Blue baseball cap. Work boots. The jeans—low rise, slim fit—were especially nice.
“You better not be checking out my ass, Gallow.”
“Get over yourself,” Rudy said, although he’d been doing just that. If Afia were here she would have been ogling right along with him. They both agreed her husband had the butt of a Greek God. The rest of him deserved equal worship. Short blond hair. Killer green eyes. Jean-Pierre once commented he had the lips of Brad Pitt. True. No wonder kissing had become Afia’s favorite past time.
“Where’s JP?” “Golden-boy” asked as he crested the stairs.
“Getting dressed.”
“What’s for breakfast?”
Rudy rolled his eyes. “You don’t have food at home?”
“I didn’t want to bang around in the kitchen. Afia was sleeping.”
“So what?” Earlier this year, after the IRS had confiscated her house, and before she’d met Jake, Afia had spent a month as Rudy’s houseguest. Too polite to take his room, she’d crashed on the sofa. “Afia sleeps like the dead.”
“Not lately.” Jake pushed up the brim of his baseball cap and headed toward the kitchen. “I thought she was insatiable before, but now that we’re trying to have a baby … She’s killing me, man. Every time I turn around she wants to have sex.”
“My heart bleeds for you.” Rudy knew the P.I. was as hot for Afia as she was for him, and it wasn’t just about baby-making. No matter what the future held, no matter if they had zero or ten kids, they’d always be together, in love and in lust even after they’d
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