Locke notices pain, pale skin, the fact that my hand shakes slightly when I lift the coffee. I take a defensive bite so he’ll stop looking at me like that.
“So,” I say after swallowing a delicious mouthful. “When do you sleep?”
His gaze returns to the laptop. “When there’s time.”
“That sounds really unhealthy.”
“Says the woman discharged from hospital five minutes ago who promptly went drinking in a biker bar.”
“It was several days ago.”
“My mistake. Completely healed, then.”
I narrow my eyes, and he looks almost amused, then he opens the notebook. “OK, Zara. All the subsidiary company names first.”
The shift to professional is immediate, and I’m grateful for it, because business gives me something to hold onto that isn’t the memory of his thumb brushing my cheek.
I take a breath
