Chapter SevenOwen sat on the edge of the made-up bed to pull on his clothes after his shower. He’d woken alone, but there was the smell of coffee rising up the stairs and a note left on the pillow where Izzy had lain.It was composed of a single word—a Dui-esque THNX.It made him smile to look at it, and to think of what had passed between them, when together they’d transformed the cold darkness of his nightmare into the velvet cocoon of shared sexual pleasure. First thing this morning, he needed to convey a “THNX” of his own. She’d been what he’d needed the night before, and this morning he could revel in a sense of well-being he hadn’t experienced since before the night of the fire.He felt like himself again, the laid-back, calm-in-a-crisis, impervious-to-pressure Owen Marston who’d headed out with his head on straight the night of that last call. He wanted to keep a firm grasp on that—and on that man.From the bedside table, his cell phone rang. He didn’t bother checking the screen; he just put the phone to his ear and then swallowed his groan when he heard the raspy voice coming through the speaker.
