Ivy Holden pushed open the bedroom door and flopped onto the bed. Exhaustion washed over her in waves, but she wasn't the least bit sleepy.
Jensen Morrison took off his shoes at the door, loosened his tie and the top buttons of his shirt, then sat on the edge of the bed.
"Is Sheldon Spencer gone?" Ivy Holden's voice was muffled, her face buried in the pillow.
"Yeah." Jensen Morrison didn't say much more. Instead, he reached out and gave Ivy Holden's butt a pat. "Want me to give you a massage?"
"Thanks, but no thanks." Ivy Holden rolled over, dodging his wandering hands.
"Not even an authentic Thai massage?" A tempting smile played on Jensen Morrison's lips.
"What did you do about Sheldon Spencer? Aren't you going to tell me?"
"He should be at the airport right about now. I left him enough money for a plane ticket. Oh, and the clothes on his back. We're civilized people, after all. We can't have him getting on the plane bare-assed. It would be an offense to public decency."
