I spent my fair share of nights teasing her about it last year, only to spend those same nights tossing and turning while imagining her in her guest room at the inn, washing her soft and tempting body.
I pick up the bottle and pop the cap open, taking a sniff, enjoying her distinctive and addictive scent—soft and flowery, silky, sensual.
“Are you assessing the self-defense potential of my overpriced shower gel?” Maddie asks from behind me.Smart mouth.
I put the bottle back on the soap rack, pulling my indifferent professionalism back into place before turning.
“Evaluating its importance if we need to run.”
“Oh, it’s important.” Maddie saunters over with an expression that tells me she isn’t buying my bullshit and retrieves the bottle, shaking it in front of my face as a way of making her point. “Where I go, the soap goes.”
“Noted.” I turn and walk to her bedroom, willing my blood to cool, wishing I wasn’t so susceptible to everything about her.
“You were already there,” Maddie reminds me as she falls into step beside me.
“Yes, for the sweep through.” I go straight for her closet and fling the doors open. “Now, I’m here to help you pack a getaway bag for when we’ll need to move you to a safe house.”
“I can pack my own clothes, you know.” She leans against the closet, arms crossed under her breasts.
“Not happening.” I pluck a hot-pink suede shoe with four-inch-needle-point heels from the shoe rack and frown. It looks more like a weapon than a fashion statement, and I turn to Maddie with a raised eyebrow. “Are these for walking or for murder?”
“Why not both?” She snatches it from me, her gaze making it clear which use she’s considering at the moment. “I mean, itisa Louboutin, it’ll probably hold up as a makeshift icepick.”
“Your clothes are impractical.” I continue my tirade as I rummage through her closet, the heat radiating off her as her anger level rises having the opposite effect from what I was hoping to achieve. I’m lost, though, engulfed in her flames, addicted to any kind of fire I can ignite in her. “Too many bright colors, not enough warm options.” I glance at the shoe rack and shake my head as I pull out a couple of yoga pants, the only other pair of jeans she owns aside from the ones thrown on the chair where her vanity is, leg warmers, and an assortment of basic cotton tops and warm sweaters. “And I’m not even going to comment on the practicality of your footwear.”
“Why stop there?” She stomps the two-and-a-half steps to me, muscles me back, and flings a drawer open. “Why not choose what underwear I should be wearing on the run as well?”
Maddie steps aside and gestures at a drawer filled to the rim with colorful lace.Fuck my life.
But if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s thinking fast under pressure.
Pulling on every self-discipline reserve I have, I calmly walk over to the drawer, sift through it as if it doesn’t affect me in the least—lies—and pick a few sensible cotton underwear to add to the packing pile on the bed.
Then I spot it—a bit of hot-pink lace poking out of the pile, taunting me. I pull at the soft fabric and find myself holding a skimpy thong which is so Maddie I can’t stop from hooking a finger into either side and lifting it up in front of her, fighting back a grin. “Really? You match your shoes with your lingerie?”
Maddie stares at me for a heartbeat, then sways my way with a dangerous glint in her eyes, lowering the scant fabric and giving me that oh-so-slow once over that I sometimes let slip when I forget I’m not supposed to look at her like that. “I’ll make sure to pack the matching bra as well.”
“Hmm.” I nod as if thinking about it seriously. “Just make sure to pack some sports bras as well.”
“Whatever you say, Robo-tough-guy.” She rolls her eyes with a dismissive wave of her hand, and I want to kiss that smugness right off her lips.
“That’s inspired. Robo-tough-guy. Much more original than Huckleberry.” I raise an eyebrow for effect, just in case she missed the oozing sarcasm, then turn to make my exit.
On the way to the door, I see her workstation and walk over to look at the papers scattered all over the table, notes scribbled everywhere.
“I’m a bit stuck,” she admits, coming to stand beside me and lifting a piece of paper full of question marks next to what I assume are bits of code.
“In what way?”
“I hit a wall in my trail, and I can’t see around it or figure out how to punch a hole through it.” Her eyes dart over the fragments of code on the paper she’s holding, then back to me. “Too many things don’t add up, like the sudden large withdrawal or the timing of the new master account being opened.”
“I know what you mean.” I sift through the papers, trying to see if something clicks for me. “Perhaps a change of pace would help? Work on your Chicago project as a distraction, and maybe the answer will come when you’re not thinking about it.”
Maddie is suddenly strangely quiet, so I turn to look at her and see… guilt? But it’s gone in a flash, and she’s nodding vigorously.
“Yeah, good idea,” she agrees, and I get the distinct feeling she isn’t being forthcoming. She may just be scared, though, and it’s presumptuous to assume I can read her so easily.
“Here’s another one—come to the gym with me. We’ll work on some of your self-defense skills, and maybe it’ll help you clear your head.”