Rachel Carrington

“I’ve never needed a bodyguard, Evan.”His hands stilled on the glasses. “Maybe that isn’t such a bad idea now.”“It’s a terrible idea. I would never want anyone watching every move I make. It’s unnerving. There are fresh lemons in the bottom drawer.”Evan squatted and tugged open the vegetable crisper inside the refrigerator. “You know,” he waved a piece of the yellow fruit for emphasis, “you may want to think about it, though.”Morgan smacked the table so hard the salt and pepper shakers jumped.He grinned and stood. “Haven’t lost your temper, I see.”“My temper wasn’t burned.”