“Here, let me get that.” He picked up the suitcase easily and headed down the hall.
“Show off,” she muttered.
He led her to a bedroom that matched the living room’s cream, white, and brown color scheme. Everything from the curtains to the comforter was brand new.
“Has anyone ever slept in here?”
He thought for a second. “Not that I can remember. It’s probably been a year or two since I’ve even been in this room,” he said, looking around. “You see anything missing?”
The queen-size bed took up most of the room. There was a nightstand on each side of the bed and a small chest of drawers. A comfy looking chair sat near the opposite wall.
“It looks fine, Mitch. Thanks.”
The tension in the room escalated.
“Sorry. My manners are as bad as Harold’s. Are you hungry? Or do you want something to drink?” He backed out of the room.
“I was looking forward to a bath and a glass of wine tonight. I’d settle for the wine if you have any.”
“I think I can manage that.” They returned to the kitchen, and he pointed to a fully stocked wine refrigerator. “Pick what you want, and I’ll open it.” He walked over to the huge, double-doored, stainless-steel refrigerator, opened it, and grabbed a beer.
“You don’t like wine?” she asked, holding out a bottle of white she’d picked out.
“On occasion.” It took him a couple of tries to find the right drawer, but he finally pulled out a fancy bottle opener.
“You don’t spend much time in here, do you?” Maggie chuckled.
“No. I don’t cook. I have a housekeeper that keeps the fridge stocked with beer and milk, and that’s about it.”
“Milk’s good for you.”
“I make smoothies with it in the morning. And I like cereal.” He opened a cupboard full of multi-colored boxes. “Help yourself in the morning.”
“You have any oatmeal? That’s better for you.”
He poured and handed her the glass, their eyes locking. “Sometimes, I like things that aren’t good for me.”
Her eyes went wide as he put his hands on her shoulders and leaned closer. “You aren’t good for me right now, Mags,but damned if I can get you out of my head. I need to focus on catching this asshole and keeping us safe. You get that, right?”
She nodded but didn’t look away.
He bent slowly and whispered into her neck, “Maybe just a taste, though.” She tipped her head back as he planted an open mouth kiss on her neck. She shivered.
He made his way slowly up her neck, and by the time he got to her lips, she had set the wine down and clasped her hands behind his head. He’d started slow, but she was impatient.
Taking charge, she stood on tiptoes and pulled him closer, pushing her tongue into his mouth. Lifting her with ease, he set her on the granite countertop without breaking the kiss. He moved between her legs and wrapped his hands up in her hair. Strands of soft, chestnut-colored silk. Oh, how easily he could lose himself in her.
But not yet. Stopping was the last thing he wanted to do, but he had no choice. Catching Manuel and keeping Maggie alive were his top priorities now, and no matter how great it would be to get her into his bed, he’d have to wait.
“Mags.” Breaking the kiss, he placed his forehead on hers. They were both breathing hard.
She closed her eyes. “I know. Not now,” she said.
“I gotta go. Help yourself to whatever.”
***
When Maggie opened her eyes, he was closing the door on his way out.
