up with uninvited guests in my bedroom, okay?”
He looked genuinely puzzled. “But I could not observe you from the other room, so how I was I know when you awoke without entering this room?”
“You could preserve your little granite soul in patience and wait until I got up and came out to tell you I was awake, Einstein.”
“That seems much less efficient than my way, but while we are speaking, I would like to address the issue of these names you keep giving me. I told you, I am called Spar, not Rocky, not stone face, and not Einstein. You will cease to refer to me in this manner.”
Fil rolled her eyes and threw back the covers. “Haven’t you ever had a nickname, Spar? It’s something we humans give to people we spend time with. Why don’t you accustom yourself to that, too? I’m going to go take a shower.”
When he rose as if to follow her, she shot him a look of disbelief. “Alone, boulder boy. You can wait out here. Sheesh.”
Spar didn’t look happy, but he obeyed her. At least for the time being.
Fil stomped into the bathroom and closed the door with a snap, or about two decibels short of a slam. Damned overbearing gargoyle. She seriously wondered if English was the guy’s first language; he had that much trouble listening. If Ella had faced half this much aggravation when she’d met Kees, Fil was prepared to feel some genuine pity.
Her reflection in the bathroom mirror only served to remind her that having the Guardian’s hulking presence in her apartment had completely thrown her off schedule. The dark circles under her eyes and the tangled mess of hair she hadn’t remembered to braid before falling into bed just went to show that no woman should ever be forced to gaze at her own reflection before at least one cup of coffee.
Grabbing her toothbrush, Fil slathered on the paste and went to work scrubbing the last of the gritty residue of the night before out of her mouth. There really had been a moment, just before she’d fully woken up, when her poor, confused little mind had her half convinced that the events of the previous evening must have been a dream. A vivid, confusing, disturbing, and surreal sort of dream, but a dream nonetheless. Catching sight of Spar, however, had put the kibosh on that feeble hope. He wasn’t the sort of sight a girl could explain away easily, or forget. He tended to stick with you.
She spat into the sink and groaned. Why, oh why, had she not listened to her brain instead of her gut and stayed away from that damned statue? If she’d just dug in her heels and ignored the strange compulsion the thing exerted over her, she wouldn’t be here in this mess—and more important, Spar wouldn’t be here in her home.
Which meant she wouldn’t have to stand here and admit to herself that the fascination she’d felt for the inanimate hunk of stone couldn’t compare with the draw she felt toward the flesh-and-blood man.
Gargoyle.
Guardian.
Whatever.
Fil rinsed her mouth and reached into the shower to turn on the water. She wished to hell she could figure out why she had this ridiculous reaction every time she got within ten feet of the man. When she’d thought him nothing more than a sculpture, the compulsion had still confused her, but she’d been able to rationalize it. It had, after all, appeared to be an impressive work of art, not just well made but rather remarkably preserved, too, given its estimated age. As both an artist and an art restorer, she’d could admire another artist’s creation, along with its ability to withstand the ravages of time and the elements.
Now, though, when she was faced not with a statue but with a breathtaking example of male physical beauty, chalking up her reaction to professional admiration had started to ring a little false. What Fil experienced when she looked at Spar’s stubbled jaw and chiseled muscles had less to do with her trained eye and more to do with her uncontrollable hormones.
The man just turned her on.
He looked genuinely puzzled. “But I could not observe you from the other room, so how I was I know when you awoke without entering this room?”
“You could preserve your little granite soul in patience and wait until I got up and came out to tell you I was awake, Einstein.”
“That seems much less efficient than my way, but while we are speaking, I would like to address the issue of these names you keep giving me. I told you, I am called Spar, not Rocky, not stone face, and not Einstein. You will cease to refer to me in this manner.”
Fil rolled her eyes and threw back the covers. “Haven’t you ever had a nickname, Spar? It’s something we humans give to people we spend time with. Why don’t you accustom yourself to that, too? I’m going to go take a shower.”
When he rose as if to follow her, she shot him a look of disbelief. “Alone, boulder boy. You can wait out here. Sheesh.”
Spar didn’t look happy, but he obeyed her. At least for the time being.
Fil stomped into the bathroom and closed the door with a snap, or about two decibels short of a slam. Damned overbearing gargoyle. She seriously wondered if English was the guy’s first language; he had that much trouble listening. If Ella had faced half this much aggravation when she’d met Kees, Fil was prepared to feel some genuine pity.
Her reflection in the bathroom mirror only served to remind her that having the Guardian’s hulking presence in her apartment had completely thrown her off schedule. The dark circles under her eyes and the tangled mess of hair she hadn’t remembered to braid before falling into bed just went to show that no woman should ever be forced to gaze at her own reflection before at least one cup of coffee.
Grabbing her toothbrush, Fil slathered on the paste and went to work scrubbing the last of the gritty residue of the night before out of her mouth. There really had been a moment, just before she’d fully woken up, when her poor, confused little mind had her half convinced that the events of the previous evening must have been a dream. A vivid, confusing, disturbing, and surreal sort of dream, but a dream nonetheless. Catching sight of Spar, however, had put the kibosh on that feeble hope. He wasn’t the sort of sight a girl could explain away easily, or forget. He tended to stick with you.
She spat into the sink and groaned. Why, oh why, had she not listened to her brain instead of her gut and stayed away from that damned statue? If she’d just dug in her heels and ignored the strange compulsion the thing exerted over her, she wouldn’t be here in this mess—and more important, Spar wouldn’t be here in her home.
Which meant she wouldn’t have to stand here and admit to herself that the fascination she’d felt for the inanimate hunk of stone couldn’t compare with the draw she felt toward the flesh-and-blood man.
Gargoyle.
Guardian.
Whatever.
Fil rinsed her mouth and reached into the shower to turn on the water. She wished to hell she could figure out why she had this ridiculous reaction every time she got within ten feet of the man. When she’d thought him nothing more than a sculpture, the compulsion had still confused her, but she’d been able to rationalize it. It had, after all, appeared to be an impressive work of art, not just well made but rather remarkably preserved, too, given its estimated age. As both an artist and an art restorer, she’d could admire another artist’s creation, along with its ability to withstand the ravages of time and the elements.
Now, though, when she was faced not with a statue but with a breathtaking example of male physical beauty, chalking up her reaction to professional admiration had started to ring a little false. What Fil experienced when she looked at Spar’s stubbled jaw and chiseled muscles had less to do with her trained eye and more to do with her uncontrollable hormones.
The man just turned her on.
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