"Is that my shirt?"
Sophie froze at the bottom of the staircase. She'd just gotten up, and considering the early hour, she was not expecting Keefe to be sitting in their kitchen. As she blushed, Sophie made a mental note to murder Sandor for neglecting this information.
"Um . . ."
Grinning, Keefe stood, crossing Havenfield's family room as though he owned the place. "Did you sleep in it?"
Sophie didn't answer.
"You did, didn't you?" Keefe grabbed her hand, his face immersed in glee as he read her emotions. "Actually wait. I'm getting the feeling you wear it every night."