Intimate Exposure

“Gina?”

“Right. Why not call Gina, have her pack a bag for you and Béatrice, and then I’ll bring it for you?”

The tempting offer found its mark. “You’d do that?”

“Sure.”

She frowned slightly, eyes searching his face. “Why?” Good question, but he didn’t have an answer. He shrugged.

“That would be … very kind. I’ll call her.” She fished around in her bag for her phone.

Speaking of the need for a shower, he was getting a little pungent himself. He handed her his card. “If you need anything else, call. I’ll go home now. Catch some shut-eye, maybe. Then I’ll swing by later with your stuff. Need breakfast before I go?”

“Thanks, but I can sneak away before she wakes up and get a sandwich in the cafeteria.”

He smiled, remembering last night’s hot dog, which still resided somewhere behind his breastbone. “Good luck with that. I’ll bring you lunch. Anything you don’t eat?”

“No, I eat pretty much everything.” She rolled her eyes and added, “'Cept maybe liver.”

“That never entered my mind.” He tossed aside his makeshift toga and found his shirt, a stinky ball of fabric that was taking on a life of its own in a corner. “You’ll be all right till I get back?”

“I’ll be fine.” The resolution in her voice was as much for her own reassurance as for his.

“Good. Won’t be gone long.” He hesitated. Now that he was leaving, how should he say goodbye? A handshake hardly seemed appropriate. He’d kissed her, long and hard, mere hours ago. Should he …? No. He’d promised himself. That would be like shooting fish in the shallow end of the pond.

She seemed to be wondering the same thing. She swallowed hard. “Elliot …”

He brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers and all but ran out of there.

Chapter 7

“One fish, two fish,” Elliot was saying.

“Red fish, blue fish!” Bee finished and yowled with delight. Shani watched as he perched on the edge of Bee’s bed and read from her favorite Dr. Seuss book … or, rather, as she constantly interrupted him to parrot passages she’d memorized. He was doing a decent job of sounding fascinated, even as he heard the story of Ned and his little bed for the eighth time.

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