Her voice was rusty when she ordered the jets on, and her eyes felt as if someone had coated a thin adhesive inside her lids during the night.The hot blast helped, but she knew it was going to take considerably more to get all engines firing. She considered the departmentally approved energy pill, then opted to hold that in reserve. It would boost her, no question, and it would leave her feeling overwired and jumpy all day.She’d stick with caffeine. Lots and lots of caffeine.When she came out, Roarke was wearing trousers. Just trousers, she noted—all bare-chested, bare-footed, with all that gorgeous black hair still a little damp from the shower.There were other things that gave the system a good jolt, and he was certainly top of her personal list.And when he crossed to her, offering a mug of black coffee, her love knew no bounds.The sound she made was as much in appreciation of him as that first life-giving gulp.“Thanks.”“Food’s next. We didn’t quite make it through dinner, and you’re not going through the day on coffee and attitude.”“I like my attitude.”
