Remember Jamie Baker (Jamie Baker #3)(60)



He was kidding. I think. I laughed anyway, because my heart suddenly felt a lot lighter. “Thank you for everything, Ryan. I’ll see you in the morning.” Unable to resist his charm, I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere just yet.”

I stood up, and Ryan tugged me back down. After smashing his lips to mine in a desperate kiss that stole my breath and rattled my senses, he squeezed my hand again and gave me another smile. “Good night, Jamie.”





Even though I woke up early—I’d set my alarm to give me plenty of time to make myself presentable before having to face the world—I felt completely rested, and thankfully, the last of my killer headache was gone. Sleep, lovely sleep, the miracle cure for concussions.

Still, feeling good or not, I grumbled at the bright light shining in through my large east-facing window. Weren’t hotels supposed to have blackout curtains? Sunsets might have been my thing, but sunrises usually put me in the mood to fry something.

I smiled, remembering the time not too long after the explosion that Teddy had taken my notebook from me and written “definitely not a morning person” in it. My smile left my face almost immediately. I was confused about him. I hated him. I was so angry with him, and yet I was still worried about him. I had to save him. With that thought in mind, I hurried and got dressed. Thanks to Ryan, I was feeling confident, powerful, and ready to face my problems. Evil super-villain butt-kicking was definitely on the agenda for the day.

I was practically strutting, or perhaps storming, from my room, fueled by determination as I went to find Ryan. But all of my ambition came crashing to a sudden halt—mission completely forgotten—when I walked into the living room and found Ryan on the floor beside the couch doing push-ups in his underwear.

(I’d like to take this moment to thank all the wonderful people at Jockey for producing and distributing to the world the wonder that is boxer briefs.)

His head was facing away from me, so I had a great view of his toned legs, perfect behind, flawless back, and those glorious shoulders and arms. The sight was, in a word, delicious. He was so tempting that I had half a mind to accuse him of hearing me get up and rolling out of bed to pretend he was in the middle of an impressive workout. But his heart rate was accelerated and there was a dense sheen of sweat covering him, so I knew he’d really been at it for a while.

Still, a moment like this couldn’t be left alone. “Let me guess,” I said, finally finding the ability to move my arms and legs again, “4,000,867…4,000,868…,”

Startled by the sound of my voice, Ryan lost his concentration and fell flat on his stomach with a hilarious thud. He scrambled to his feet and reached to pull the blanket he’d slept with in front of him.

His discomfort—for once—made me find my inner confidence. Hands on my hips, I let my eyes trail his body. The front view was just as impressive as the back. Even the scar on his arm begged to be touched. A wide grin stretched over my face. “Please don’t stop on my account.”

I couldn’t believe it because he’d seemed so unfailingly confident, but the tips of his ears burned pink from embarrassment. It wouldn’t last long, though. His cocky smile was already starting to break through, as if he found the situation amusing. “I didn’t think you’d be up so early. You were pretty wiped out last night, and you’re hardly a morning person.”

I was always surprised when he knew things about me, but it absolutely thrilled me every time. My grin doubled. Ryan smiled to match it. Wrapping the blanket around his waist as he would a towel after getting out of the shower, he sat on the couch and patted the spot next to him. It seemed an innocent enough invitation, but considering the amount of nakedness, I left a good foot of space between us when I joined him.

“How’d you sleep?” Ryan asked.

“Surprisingly well.”

Ryan’s smile turned dangerous. “Were your dreams as pleasant as mine last night?”

I dared to imagine the kind of dreams he’d had last night, and felt a stab of envy. If only I could be so lucky. “I can’t dream, remember? I haven’t ever since the explosion, anyway, and you’d think that after experiencing something like that, it would come out subconsciously in nightmares.”

Ryan’s brows drew together in concern. “That’s not right. Did you ask your doctor about it?”

“He couldn’t say for sure. Just assumed it was another side effect of my brain damage.”

“Side effect?” He took my hand in his and bit his bottom lip. “Are there others? More? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I didn’t want to talk about my stupid brain damage or my amnesia. I was enjoying the light atmosphere too much to get into such depressing topics, so I tried to bring the mood back. I tugged at the blanket draped over his lap. “Why the cover? I assume this”—I waved a hand at his half-naked body—“is nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Though obviously surprised, Ryan definitely appreciated the random subject change. He arched a brow and gave me a look that made my heart rate spike, his smile alpha-male confident again. “There’s a difference between stripping down to your underwear for someone and being caught with your pants down.”

“I suppose that’s true.” I conceded the point with a nod of my head and let my gaze enjoy the sight of him one more time. “It’s still a shame, though. I was rather enjoying the view.”

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