His for the Taking Read Online Free Page A

using one of my water bottles.’
    She laughed. ‘Go ahead,’ she said, and then glanced at Xenia’s en suite bathroom. Zoe had never used it herself.
    Before she could say anything Nick was already heading for the door out of the bedroom and into the hallway. ‘I remember where it is, one up from the kitchen.’
    Zoe followed him into the hall and watched him go into the guest bathroom, relieved that he had the good sense to know that using Xenia’s bathroom would be too much of an intrusion. Not that it should matter, now—but it did.
    She hung up the garment bag on a hook near the front door and found a tote bag to put the shoes in, and then she shucked her leather jacket and went into the kitchen. She never made coffee at home—why make it when the Greek deli next door made it better?—but she was used to the routine at Xenia’s, because one of her jobs whenever she’d stayed over had been to make the coffee in the morning and bring it to Xenia in bed.
    She found the beans in the freezer, otherwise empty except for ice trays, got out the grinder, measured the beans and listened to the familiar rattling buzz as the grinder did its work. She emptied it into the filter and added bottled water to the machine and sat at the table as the aroma of coffee filled the kitchen.
    By all rights, this should be a sad thing to do. There was no Xenia to pour the coffee for. Zoe should feel lonely and mournful.
    And yet it was as if by banishing her rare tears in the closet Nick had dulled the edge of her sadness. She’d been dreading finding Xenia’s clothes, and yet he’d made her laugh.
    Zoe frowned. What was she thinking? Not five minutes after she’d met him this guy had muscled into her great-aunt’s apartment, and then just as quickly he’d muscled into her private life. And she was feeling all glad about it?
    She stood and got down two mugs. She’d give him a cup of coffee, and then, father or no father, she’d kick his handsome butt out of here before she got even stupider.
     
    Nick washed his hands and face in the marble sink and dried them on the fluffy white towel. After ten hours of driving and a couple more hours of waiting in a corridor, hot water and soap felt great.
    He’d checked already, but he surveyed the bathroom once more for signs of male toiletries, some sign that his father had maybe stayed here. But the soap was scented and the shampoo was floral. There was a toothbrush in the medicine cabinet, but it was bright pink.
    Nick remembered Eric Giroux as a big man, an outdoorsman, a hunter and a fisherman who always wore flannel and faded denim. It wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that Eric could use a pink toothbrush, but in itself it wasn’t convincing evidence.
    He’d only been able to cast a swift glance into the en suite bathroom, but he hadn’t seen anything promising there, either. The most promising thing he’d seen in the whole apartment had been the bear trap, and even that was pretty ambiguous. He had no idea whether his father had hunted bear or not, and he was pretty sure if his father did hunt bear, he wouldn’t keep his traps in glass cases.
    Maybe later Nick would be able to do a real search. On the other hand, maybe later his father would come strolling through the door.
    The scent of fresh coffee greeted Nick as soon as he stepped into the hallway; he followed it to the kitchen where Zoe sat at the table with two mugs in front of her. ‘There isn’t any milk,’ she said. ‘Xenia doesn’t take it.’ She frowned slightly. ‘Didn’t.’
    ‘That’s fine, I like it black.’ Nick took the chair across from Zoe, and a sip of coffee. He leaned back with the mug warming his hand.
    She’d taken off her leather jacket, revealing a black T-shirt that allowed him for the first time to see her shape. She was well built, with full breasts and a flat stomach and toned arms.
    Nick’s appreciation of this woman climbed a couple of points up the scale. She wasn’t