Sleeping With The Playboy

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“What about days off? Surely you’ll need holidays.”

“I take holidays between jobs.”

“What if you get sick?”

“I have colleagues I trust with my life, and we spell each other off in emergencies like that.”

Donovan felt sweat cooling his back between his shoulder blades. Jocelyn had a healthy glow on her face, too, but she wasn’t working too hard, not by a long shot. She was clearly in great shape. “I thought you worked alone.”

“I do, but I didn’t always.”

“These colleagues…buddies from the Secret Service?”

“You got it. There are a number of us who work privately now. We contract each other out whenever we require team details.”

They jogged in silence along the water, in perfect sync with each other, enjoying the fresh, early morning air. For a long time neither of them said anything, until they came to the end of the park.

“Ready to turn back?” Jocelyn asked.

“Yeah, I usually go that way.” He pointed.

She stopped and bent forward, her hands on her knees as she tried to talk through deep breaths. “Really? We should go a different way then, and run somewhere else tomorrow.”

He understood what she was getting at—it was a security thing—and nodded in the other direction. “That way through the park’ll take a little longer, but we’ll end up back where we started.”

“Great.” They began to run again, both of them covered in a shiny film of perspiration, but still keeping perfect pace. When they arrived back on Donovan’s street, they walked for a bit to cool down before going inside. They passed by the security guard, who politely waved.

Jocelyn got on the elevator first, and like before, checked the ceiling before letting him get on.

“What are you checking for?” he asked, as he stepped inside.

“If the hatch is ajar, there could be someone up there.”

On the way up to his penthouse, Donovan was intensely aware of the silence between them, and had to stop himself from gazing down at her just for the sheer pleasure of it.

God, she smelled good. Like the outdoors and fresh, clean sweat. What he wouldn’t give to touch her now. To rub his fingers along her slick, bare shoulder.

His blood began to pulse in his veins, and for the first time in years, he felt nervous around a woman.

“Maybe on the way to your office this morning,” she said, “we could talk about suspects.”

He tried to imagine that. “We could, if you don’t mind people listening in.”

“What do you mean? What people?”

“The people on the El.”

The doors opened, and he stepped off, but Jocelyn stayed on the elevator. Donovan had to put his arm in front of the door to keep it from closing while she was still inside.

“You take the train to your office?” she asked, sounding more than a little shocked.

Donovan couldn’t help smiling, and this time, she smiled back.

“I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” she asked.

“Yes, you are. I suppose you expected me to drive a Jag? Or maybe have a limo and driver?”

At last she stepped off the elevator and held her hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, I’m guilty this time.”

Donovan paused in the vestibule. “Why do you have those impressions of me, anyway? Is it because I was wearing a tux last night? Do you think my life is one big cocktail party?”

She shrugged. “Something like that. You have to admit, though, appearances haven’t exactly made you out to be Blue Collar Joe.”

Laughing quietly, Donovan bent down to get his key out of his shoe wallet, then straightened. “I’m a pretty normal guy, you know.”

“Sure. A normal guy who has the best of everything in one of the most expensive penthouses in downtown Chicago.”

“You’re very observant, I’ll give you that, but what you see is not always all that’s there. You can’t possibly know what’s going on inside a person, by seeing what kind of beer they drink or what kind of house they live in.”