The steel went out of Rusty’s spine at the same time all the air left his lungs. “You thought something was happening between us?” Who had shoved a glob of glue down his throat? The words were so sticky they barely came out as a whisper. “Why does me being in the closet change that?”
“It just does.” Ace glanced over Rusty’s shoulder.“Did you pick out which room will be yours tonight, Emily? Dibs on the blue one. It has a bed with gauzy curtains. I’ve always wanted to sleep in one of those.”
Rusty watched Emily shove past him and was hard-pressed not to yank her back into the hall and then shut the door in her face. He and Ace needed to finish their conversation,damnit. He felt… No…heknewAce had been about to revealsomething important.
Of course, he could never be so rude to Emily. Not only had she been the one to rally support from the CIA for him when he’d been pinned down in enemy territory with no friendly evacs in sight that summer he’d spent working as an asset, but she’d made sure to keep in touch with him over the years. Emails, the occasional phone call… Emily took to heart that old proverbthat once you saved someone’s life, you were forever responsible for it.
“The blue room’s all yours,” she told Ace, walking wide-eyed into the center of the library. “I laid my claim on the yellow one. It looks over the back patio and has some funky, sparkly art on one wall. But that’s neither here nor there, because get a load of this place!” She spun in a circle and started humming a songthat was vaguely familiar.
She had changed into a pair of leggings and one of her many oversized sweatshirts. Both seemed to have survived the storm relatively unscathed inside her backpack.
“It’s a ceramic mural,” Rusty said, still battling his annoyance at her interruption.
“Huh?” Emily stopped spinning to scrunch up her nose at him.
“The funky, sparkly art on the wall in theyellow bedroom. It’s a ceramic mural.” He pushed away from the doorframe, walked to the seating arrangement on the left side of the room, and collapsed into a leather chair. Its springs whined under his weight.
When Emily blinked at him, he expounded. “There are three types of murals. Painted, ceramic, and tile. Painted is self-explanatory. So is tile, which is basically a painting on tilesthat are then affixed to the floor or wall. What’s in the yellow bedroom is a ceramic mural. Meaning it’s a picture that’s been made up of mosaic pieces of mirrors, tiles, and ceramics. In my opinion, ceramic murals are the most interesting kinds of murals.”
“Said the man who claims to be all brawn and no brain,” Ace muttered, and Rusty shot him a scathing look.
“Yeah, that’s right. Iknow something about art and decor. Does itgetany gayer than that? You should be patting me on the back.”
Ace snorted. “Sorry to say, but knowing the difference between shag and berber or a Pollock and a Picasso doesn’t make you a card-carrying member of GLAAD.”
Emily glanced back and forth between them, a line appearing between her eyebrows. “Did I miss something?”
“Nothing.” Acewaved a hand and started toward the door. “Where’s the bathroom you used, anyway? The only two I’ve clocked on my tour have signs saying they don’t work.”
After Emily gave him directions, Ace left the room. Emily’s gaze immediately fell on Rusty.
“What?” he demanded as she ambled over and plunked down on the leather sofa.
“What was that all about?”
“What do you mean?”
“I meanall the sarcasm about brawns and brains combined with the veiled eye threats. I left my Rusty-Ace handbook in my other pants. So out with it. What’s going on between you two?”
“Nothing.” That was the whole fucking problem.
“I don’t believe it,” she scoffed. “I think he likes you. And in my opinion, you’d be crazy not to buy a ticket on that ride.”
“Sorry to say, but that ship has sailed.”
She scrunched up her nose again. “We’re mixing metaphors. I’m getting confused.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s nothing. Drop it, okay?”
He could tell she wanted to press the issue but didn’t.Bless her.Instead she sighed and said, “Sorry I dragged you into this, Rusty.”
“You didn’t drag me anywhere. You called, gave me the lowdown, and I volunteered to help. Remember?”
“Yeah, but Ithought you’d give us a quick boat ride across the Channel after we outed Morrison as Spider’s money launderer, and that would be that. I didn’t think we’d end up here.” She waved a hand to indicate the opulent room.
“You mean hiding out in a big, drafty house after having spent a week hiding out in a dinky seaside cottage?”
She laughed. “That and the fact that since we can’t be certainSpider didn’t catchallour likenesses on some CCTV camera, you have to come with us back to the States and put your business and your whole flippin’lifeon hold.”
