75
“Night stuff,” he repeated stiffly, his eyes unblinking. He swallowed. “You told me to pack light,” she said defensively. “I found this in one of the drawers.” “That’s a man’s shirt.” Lu looked down at the shirt. It was a perfectly innocuous white short-sleeved T-shirt, utterly ordinary. It probably belonged to James. “So?” His face grew more and more ruddy, his lips thinned to a pale line. Against his tanned skin, both his scars and the thin line of his lips stood out, and Lu thought she’d never seen him look quite so on edge. “So . . . nothing. It’s just . . . short. Just . . . get dressed, all right?” He turned away again, and Lu had the startling thought that it might be in order to hide. From her. Because she wasn’t fully dressed. And there was that hope again, pushing up its
- Writer
