“I already know about the rowing. I’m going to ask again. At the end of the day, when you’re home and you’ve finished work...” When she didn’t respond, Luke prompted her. “This is the part where you fill in the blank.”
She turned back to the laptop. “Work is never finished.”
“Don’t you have any hobbies?”
One shoulder twitched in a half shrug.
“You have to have something. What is it?”
“Nothing. I’m not any good at anything else.”
“Who said you have to be good at it? Is there something else you enjoy?”
Again with the half shrug. “I read.”
“If you tell me you only read books on productivity and criminal science, I’m going to lose it.”
Faith tossed a rolled-up napkin in his direction. “What if I told you I read steamy romances?”
“I’d ask to borrow them.”
Faith’s eyes widened in surprise. “Luke Powell! You’re terrible.” She tossed another napkin in his direction. Had she been storing them over there?
He caught it and tossed it back. “Come on, Malone. What do you read?”Please, let it not be steamy romances.
“What does it matter?”
Luke fired back. “Why are you making this so challenging?”
She shook her head in slow sweeps from side to side, refusing to make eye contact, her lips twitching in amusement. “It’s more fun this way.”
“For you, maybe.”
Faith laughed a low, throaty laugh. “You’re so easy to annoy.”
“You enjoy annoying me? So that’s it?” Luke pitched his voice in a completely unrealistic falsetto imitation of Faith. “Hi, I’m Faith. For fun, I try to annoy Luke as much as possible.”
Faith grinned at him. “It’s as good a hobby as any. It’s still new, but I feel like I could get good at it if I keep practicing. Perfecting my technique.”
Why did the thought of being perpetually annoyed by Faith seem so ... not annoying? Luke couldn’t stop himself. He pushed away from the table and leaned toward her. “You’ll have to be careful. A hobby like that could turn into a permanent obsession.” He winked, then held eye contact.Your move, Malone.
He expected her to back down, but she leaned toward him, her face inches from his, and her voice was husky as she whispered, “I guess I’ll have to take my chances.”
Would she?
Would he?
Their eyes held, neither of them willing to be the first to make a move or to look away.
“Luke, have you seen—” Zane’s voice cut off abruptly. “Oh. Excuse me. I’ll come back later.”
Faith had her back to the door, but she hadn’t moved when Zane walked in, and Luke had matched her response. Now, the slightest uptick of her eyebrows dared him to react. Ignoring Zane, he leaned a few millimeters closer. “This conversation is not over.” He caught a flash of surprise—and maybe pleasure? It definitely wasn’t fear or anger in her eyes.
“What do you need, man?” Luke shoved away from the table and kept his voice light and calm. He walked over to the credenza with the water pitcher and poured himself a glass, as if being so close to Faith Malone that he could smell her shampoo was a normal part of his routine.
Zane didn’t attempt to hide his reaction and openly regarded Luke with a mixture of amusement and shock. “Um, well, I . . .” Zane looked at the back of Faith’s head, then back at Luke, then pinched his lips together. Luke wasn’t sure if he was trying to stop himself from saying something inappropriate or to stop himself from laughing. Could have been both. “I was wondering if you’d seen my umbrella.”
“What do you need an umbrella for?”
