Chapter Eight: A secret with a pulse

NADIA'S POV

As soon as Marlowe and the kids left, I got busy.

Grabbing a bin and rake, I cleared the grass of the debris that littered the yard after yesterday's dinner.

With every minute that went past, I tried in vain to ignore the fact that the guest room had a window that was directly facing the backyard and that Fabian Davenport could be watching me at that moment.

I continued working, knowing that the only way I could successfully ignore Fabian and forget that he was in the house was by keeping myself as busy as possible.

By the time I had completed the clean-up, the sun was up in the sky, and I knew that continuing to stand in the yard was going to cause sunburn.

Gathering my tools, I made my way into the kitchen, then stopped short when I saw Fabian.

He stood next to the door, his legs crossed, a strand of tousled hair in between those powerful green eyes.

The fact that he was wearing only a thin tank top that showed off his lean body seemed to make the weather even more unbearable. All of a sudden, my throat was too dry.

“Good morning, Nadia.” There was a pause which involved him scanning my face. “You know, I feel I should be the one doing that.”

He pointed at the bin in my hand.

I shook my head, refusing to return his smile.

“Good morning Mr. Davenport. Oh, don't worry about it. You're the guest, you're meant to feel at ease. Are you ready for breakfast yet?”

“Not really. I saw you from the window cleaning and came down to help. Guess you finished before I even came down.”

I nodded, wishing he would leave the door so I could walk past. Our bodies so close to each other was a risk I wasn't willing to take.

“I made coffee. My son broke the coffee machine, so you'll have to manage one I made using the kettle.”

“Honestly, you don't need to bother. I'm not an early bird when it comes to food.”

He finally moved from the door and I slipped into my home, heading for the freezer. I drank water directly from the bottle, way too fast, my hands trembling slightly.

“So, this is your typical day in the life?”

I watched him grab a cup and help himself to the coffee in the kettle.

“If you weren't here, I would've been in a cafe, trying to write. But unfortunately, I have to play host for you.”

He chuckled, a sound that did nothing to ease the already pent up tension in the room.

“You can still go to the cafe. I'll be okay here, I promise. If I need anything, I'll just call.”

The thought of having Fabian’s number in my phone made my face flame in a manner that disgusted me. I looked away, hoping he hadn't seen me blush.

At that moment, I agreed with him.

It would do both of us a lot of good if I left the house.

“There's bacon in the pot next to you, and bread in the freezer. You can help yourself to anything you need. I'll take a shower and go down to the cafe just down the road.”

I left the kitchen without waiting for an answer, my legs nearly tripping of their own accord because I could feel those terrific green eyes following my every movement.

___________

I grabbed the key to my Camry as I headed downstairs, my laptop bag in one hand.

I stopped short when I saw that Fabian was no longer in the kitchen.

Knowing I needed to get his number in case he needed to reach me, I peeked outside the kitchen window, shaking my head when I discovered he wasn't at the backyard either.

I stopped at his door when I climbed the stairs in the direction of the guestroom, my hands suddenly becoming too clammy.

I only had to knock once before he answered, his baritone reminding me of why I had blindly fucked him back in California even without knowing his name.

“It's open.”

I opened the door, then stopped in my tracks when I saw him.

He was shirtless now, his back turned to me.

God, how could a man be so perfect?

The muscles of his back were well toned, and the way his black, wavy hair just short of his neck reminded me of how wonderfully it had felt in my hands a few days ago.

In his hand, he held a camera.

The blinds drawn, he stood so still, to the extent that I wondered if he even knew I was in the room.

It was only when the camera clicked that I saw his body relax.

He then proceeded to turn to me, his eyes gleaming.

“This room is perfect for taking pictures of the sky and some parts of the city. The lighting is amazing!”

It was at that moment that it struck me that I really didn't know Fabian Davenport. Who knew that taking pictures could make such a handsome man so happy?

“I…I had no idea pictures made you this excited…”

He laughed, a sound so glorious it made my insides melt.

“Come, take a look.”

Ignoring the warning bells that rang in my head, I inched closer to him, glancing at the small display screen.

It really was beautiful.

A serene moment, he had captured a group of birds as they flew past. I could see the city in the background, and the rays of the sun as it provided the perfect lighting he had spoken of.

“Wow…this is really beautiful, Fabian.”

His green eyes twinkled in delight at the compliment, before falling onto my lips.

And at that moment, time seemed to stand still. Arrested by his eyes, my mission of being in the guest room was forgotten.

All I could think of was how close our bodies were, our hands were practically touching.

“And so are you, Nadia.”

When he tilted my chin towards his face, I didn't resist.

I closed my eyes, melting into his arms, my knees buckling as I struggled to stand on my own. His lips, tasting of coffee and menthol, erased every memory of Marlowe's abysmal and terrible kissing performance of the previous night.

He stopped kissing me as suddenly as he had started, proceeding to drop his camera on the bedside table.

“I…I have to go to the cafe.. I came to give you my number so you can call me if you're in need…”

He didn't let me finish.

Grabbing my hand, I was in his arms in the next second.

Another kiss later, and my laptop bag had slid from my hand, the trip I was supposed to make to the cafe forgotten.

My God, just how much power did Fabian Davenport have over me?