The sun was already high in the sky by the time Bishop made his way up the stairs to his apartment. All he wanted was a hot shower and a cool bed. Only what waited at the top of the stairs looked like the exact opposite of that, either a hot bed or a cold shower. What the hell was Anja doing there? Hadn’t he been most explicit that he was done with the role of mentor?
There were dark smudges under her eyes, making her look especially fragile, but even so she was still heart-stoppingly beautiful, slumped against his door in her ridiculous outfit. Not that he couldn’t appreciate a woman’s body on display, but his fingers itched to tug her skirt lower and cover up the exposed swell of her breast. Anja didn’t need such trappings to attract a man. Idly, he wondered what she would look like in a proper dress. Subtle touches of lace framing the bodice that exposed a hint of delights to be had beneath the rigid corset that cinched her trim waist impossibly smaller. Hair swept high with tendrils of gold escaping to frame her delicate features and nothing but her natural coloring to complement her inquisitive, blue eyes and the pout of her lips...
Cold shower it was.
Nudging her with his foot, she didn’t make a sound. She was, for all intents and purposes, dead to the world. She was damn lucky it was him that came along, or she’d have woken up in the morgue again, or worse. He scooped her up into his arms, cradling her close as he brought her into the apartment. Damn, he’d just gotten the scent of her out of his bed.