We stood there, locked in a silent challenge. But then she sighed, gave me one more suspicious glance, and opened the door wider.
“Fine, come in.”
I stepped inside and glanced at her laptop on the little table in front of the bed. “Hope I’m not messing with your creative flow,” I said lightly.
She snorted, shutting the lid. “Trust me, there was no flow to mess with. I’ve been staring at that screen for an hour.”
I noticed a wineglass on the nightstand and an open bottle sitting beside it. “Long day?”
After a moment’s hesitation, she said, “More like a long evening.”
I nodded, surprised that she was engaging this much. “Does it have anything to do with that phone call?”
She glanced at the cell she’d thrown onto the bed.
My eyebrows furrowed. It was like she was terrified of the device or something.
“You could say that.” She walked over, picked up the bottle, and after a beat, lifted her gaze to mine. “Do you want a glass?”
I blinked. “You’re offering me wine?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Don’t make it weird. It’s not a peace treaty. We’re not besties now or anything.”
I pursed my lips to hide my smirk. She was warming up to me, no matter how much she tried to play tough. “Of course not.”
“I just feel like I owe you at least a drink for bailing me out of jail.” She rubbed her forehead. “I still can’t believe I got arrested. It will stay between us… right?”
“Scout’s honor.”
She rolled her eyes. “You were never a Boy Scout.”
I grinned. “I’ll take the secret to the grave, and sure I’ll take a glass.”
With a tiny smile, she refilled her glass and poured another.
I mentally fist-pumped the air. This was good. More progress. Maybe she’d be more receptive to my proposition than I thought.
When she handed the glass to me, our fingers brushed for the briefest second. She looked away quickly, but not before I saw the flicker of awareness in her eyes. The electricity between us would never go away… even if we spent another twelve years apart.
She gestured to the armchair as she sat on the bed.
I took my seat and took a sip, watching her. She looked everywhere but directly at me, and her cheeks were flushed. I bet I knew why. The room wasn’t all that spacious, and things seemed a little too intimate with her just inches away from me on her bed.
“Thanks,” I said, lifting the glass.
She tucked a leg under her. “So, what was so important that you decided to leave your swanky side of town to slum it here?”
“How do you know I live on the swanky side of town?"
Her eyebrows shot up. “Well, I doubt any billionaires live on this side of the city.”
My lips twisted wryly. “Speaking of. This place isn’t all that secure. Did you book it?”
“No, this is what the paper can afford.” She looked around the room. “Although, if it were their star reporter, I’m pretty sure he would have gotten more than two stars.”
“You know, I can?—”
She held up a finger. “Don’t even. I’d never let you pay for my stay at some fancy five-star place.”
