He poured two glasses of milk and took the cookies from the counter then walked back to sit on the end of the couch. The sheet he usually slept on was all bunched up in the middle. He placed the cookies and milk on the coffee table then tried to pull the sheet over his lap without her noticing. She did. Meg noticed everything. But she didn’t say anything and for that he was grateful. There was enough embarrassment for one night.
She grabbed a few cookies and nibbled on them, her eyes darting to him once in a while. He took a cookie too and gobbled his in two bites. The cold milk felt good washing it down, washing away his dream. Or was he deluding himself? The thunderous beat of his heart almost choked him.
She sipped from her drink then stared at him, her eyes filled with concern. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He placed his empty glass gently on the table then wiped his mouth before he looked at her. She wanted him to cry on her shoulder? That wouldn’t happen. Although looking at her bare shoulders there was a definite longing to actually do it.
“What, you’re a shrink all of a sudden? I know bartenders like to think they can diagnose and help customers but I didn’t know waitresses were getting in on the act too.”
She slipped the last of her cookie into her mouth then licked her fingers. She had no clue what seeing her tongue skim over her lips did to him. Crossing her arms over her chest she sat back, still staring at him.
The light from the kitchen spilled onto her tousled hair, showing off the highlights from the sun. Her long legs stretched out, resting on the table. She wore the skimpy shorts and loose top again. He really needed to buy her some decent pajamas. Maybe he’d get flannel and high necked. Long sleeves and all the way down her slim legs. He glanced at her toes curled on the edge of the coffee table. Nope, too cute. He’d have to get something with feet attached. But it was July, in Miami.
“You don’t always have to be the big, strong FBI agent, you know.”
“What should I be?” He tried to add a little sarcasm but wasn’t sure it worked.
She cocked her head and smiled. “You could be human.”
That was the problem. He felt far too human right now, as in very capable of making mistakes.
“I’d rather be superhuman.” He threw her a smirk. She narrowed her eyes. “I told you, I’m fine.”
“You’re sweating.”
“It’s July and we’re in Miami.” Hadn’t he just used that as a reason he couldn’t stick her in flannel? Oh, right, he hadn’t said it out loud.
“It is,” she agreed then rubbed her arms. “But we’ve got the air conditioner on.”
They did have the AC on but it was low. She still rubbed her arms. Had he hurt her when he’d woken up? His hands had been wrapped around her arms. He hated to think he’d left marks like Moreno.
Chris leaned in closer and took one of her hands in his. “Did I hurt you? When I…woke up?”
Meg moved her face nearer. “I’m fine, you startled me that’s all. I made the mistake of waking up one of my brothers once and he threw me across the room. I practically got a concussion. At least here, I landed on the soft couch.”
“You’re still rubbing your arms.”
She stopped and rolled her eyes. “Air conditioner, remember.”
He threw his arm on the back of the couch and jerked his head. “Come here. I’ll warm you up.”
Bad idea. He knew it was a mistake as soon as she scooted over and settled into the crook of his arm. When he put his hand on her shoulder, the thought was confirmed, loud and clear. Her skin was too soft and she smelled terrific. The hotel shampoo was lavender scented and she used it all the time. Her head was too close and he couldn’t stop inhaling her fragrance.
“Warmer?” Maybe if she said yes he could send her back to her room. He should have already. The nightmare had dissipated somewhat but she was still far too close.
Stop, you idiot. You do this all day with her. Why is it different now? Pretend you’re acting for the sake of Moreno.
She snuggled closer and gave a dainty shrug. “A little.”
He ran his hand up and down her arm, hoping to get the circulation going, and then her going back to her room. But she looked up and again the sympathy in her eyes got to him.
“Sometimes it helps make a nightmare less real if you talk about it. All of a sudden you realize how some of the things that happened were stupid or funny.”
Nothing about Samira and Tariq had been funny. They’d both died. Eddie was dead too and Meg risked her life every day. Because he had asked her to. He’d been foolish. There were enough people working this case. They should be able to get clear evidence on Moreno without involving her.
She turned in his arms and knelt next to him, her face level with his. “Tell me. I want to help. You helped me yesterday when I was upset. I want to pay you back.”
Tariq and Samira had wanted to pay him back for his help. Look where it got them.
