Dante pushed open the door and gestured for her to enter ahead of him. When Cassidy stepped into the apartment, his leather scent, along with the aroma of books, assailed her.
As she’d suspected, he lived in a studio. Thick slabs of pine, each about a foot wide, ran across the space, which was a little bigger than she anticipated. Across the way, a small kitchen with a stove, white cabinets with metal handles, and a refrigerator were separated from the main living area by half of a countertop. Black marble countertops contrasted with the cabinets and oak wood floor.
The neatly made, queen-size bed was to her left and covered in a navy-blue comforter. At the foot of the bed lay a quilt; the vibrant oranges, reds, and yellows comprising the quilt reminded her of the sunrise.
A single recliner sat in a corner near a closed door she assumed led to the bathroom. Bookshelves made of metal piping and wood shelves covered all available wall space and were stacked full of books. More books sat on the nightstand next to the bed and on the table beside the recliner. Mounted to the wall across from the recliner was a small TV.
A handful of pictures decorated the bookshelves, and when she looked closely, she recognized a young Dante in a couple of them. In the closest photo, he sat beside a young woman who didn’t look much older than him. Behind them stood a beaming couple who had their hands on the shoulders of what could only be their children. A panorama of Fenway hung over the bed, one of the Boston Garden hung in the kitchen, and nailed over the recliner was Gillette stadium.
Cassidy tore her attention away from the picture when Dante closed the door. The exhaustion etching his face created lines where none were before. His dark hair stood on end from running his hands through it, and they both reeked of smoke so bad, she could barely stand to breathe through her nose.
“You can shower first,” he said as he walked across the room and opened the closed door. “There are towels in the closet.”
“Thank you,” Cassidy said as she slipped into the small bathroom and closed the door behind her.
Unlike the bathroom in her apartment, which could have stepped out of a nineteen seventies issue of home and garden, this one was entirely modern. The dark wood medicine cabinet and sink were masculine but also warm.
The shower, with its gleaming white surface, looked more inviting than a fluffy bed full of pillows. It was spotless; not even a speck of toothpaste marred the sink. She wasn’t a slob, but this place made her look like one.
She set her bag of clothes on the floor before examining her bloodshot eyes and drawn features in the mirror. She’d tried to clean herself up before going shopping, but soot still streaked the bottom of her chin and hairline.
She turned on the shower and stripped off her ruined clothes before opening the door across from the sink to reveal a small closet. Dante’s clothes hung neatly inside. They were a mix of sports jerseys, T-shirts, button-down shirts, jeans, and pants. All of the sports clothes were Boston teams. Beneath the clothes, towels and linens were neatly stacked on a set of shelves.
She removed two towels, closed the door, and gathered the bottles of shampoo and conditioner she purchased before stepping into the shower. The hot water made her sigh as it beat against her muscles and relaxed some of her tension. She wanted to stay there forever as she scrubbed the stench of smoke and fire from her, but as appealing as that was, she couldn’t use all the hot water.
Reluctantly, she turned off the water and stepped from the shower. She dried off and dressed before unwrapping the towel from her hair and drying it the best she could. She pulled out the brush she purchased and tried not to wince as she worked the tangles from her hair.
When she finished, she shoved her ruined clothes into the plastic bag and tied it closed. It did nothing to block the potent smell drifting from within. She held the bag away from her as she opened the door and stepped out of the room.
Dante stood at the counter dividing the kitchen from the main living area. His brow furrowed as he glared at his computer screen.
“What’s wrong?” she asked as she opened the door and set her ruined clothes in the hall. She’d take them with her when she left.
Dante shook his head before looking at her. Cassidy’s breath caught when those chocolate eyes warmed while they leisurely perused her.
She’d purchased a Rolling Stones graphic tee and black hoodie from the store. The jeans were baggier than what she usually wore, and there was nothing sexy about her outfit, but the hunger in his gaze made her feel like she wore the sexiest lingerie.
Her body reacted to his need viscerally as her breasts felt heavier and an ache started between her legs. She’d never wanted anyone as badly as him; she couldn’t breathe as his ravenous gaze met hers again.
Dante tried to rid himself of his relentless desire for her. However, those baggy clothes somehow made her look more enticing. He would leisurely strip them from her while he kissed every inch of her long, slender body.
Then he recalled she almost died tonight, and it doused his growing arousal. “Nothing is wrong,” he assured her.
It took Cassidy a few seconds to find her voice as she worked to gain control of her body. “Then why do you look like you’re about to kill your computer?”
Dante closed his laptop. “There are more Preston’s in this city than I would have guessed.”
“How many of them are around Julie’s age?”
“A lot of them.”
Cassidy shifted as she fiddled with the sleeves of her baggy hoodie. “What about her friends? Do any of them know a Preston?”
“None of
