Maggie didn’t know what came over her, but she caught his wrist and brought his hand back up to her mouth. “Here, let me,” she whispered and gently licked his fingers clean one at a time.
His blush was deep and ruddy, pleasing her almost as much as the food had. To her surprise, Anatoly drew her close to him with his other arm until she was firmly standing against him.
Now it was her turn for her cheeks to go hot. The way he was gazing down at her made her wonder what was going on in his head. Was he thinking of kissing her or eating her? Both seemed likely and tantalizing.
“Maggie…” he breathed her name quietly, and for a second she was sure he was about to draw her into a mind-blowing kiss, but instead he pressed his lips to her forehead once and then he was stepping away.
“Eat supper, Maggie,” he urged gently.
Feeling more than a little let down, Maggie’s stomach helped her get over it by growling again. Whatever had been going through his mind, he didn’t share it with her. It was like he had been tempted to act and then overcame it, leaving her wanting more than just his delicious cooking.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Have you made much progress with case?” Anatoly asked, poking his head out of the kitchen to peer at what must have seemed a mess to him.
Maggie answered around a mouthful of more food, not the least bit apologetic that she was absolutely inhaling the meal he’d brought. If he hadn’t, she’d likely have ordered in a pizza or something likewise unhealthy.
The unbidden thought that he was fattening her up popped into her head, but she promptly swatted it away. Even if he was, Maggie wasn’t so sure she minded.
“I’m missing something, Anatoly.” She let him see her frustration openly. “I’ve been banging my head against it for hours and I’m no closer to solving these murders than when I started.”
He immediately shook his head. “Do not say that. You have made fine progress and have unearthed many clues since I have been working with you. This is not impossible task, Maggie.”
“I guess so,” she sighed, knowing he was right, but not wanting to admit it. She wasn’t at square one, but she was stuck and the best thing she could do when she wasn’t making any headway was take a break. The meal had been a nice reprieve and had given her energy to push forward tonight.
Maggie moved to the sink and started to wash the dishes without really thinking about it. She’d devoured every bite, using a bit of the pancake to sop up the last of the stew. It was prudent not to let the dishes get crusty when she was standing right there.
While she rinsed and washed, Anatoly strolled back into the living room. He had that look about him that said he was lost in thought and Maggie knew better than to interrupt until he returned to the moment. She was busy anyway, so she focused on her task until it was complete. Once the dishes were sat in the drainer, she dried her hands off and joined the vampire in the other room.
“Do you still think our killer is a vampire?” she asked, unable to stop herself even as he was pouring over the papers.
“Maybe. Maybe not.” He sounded far away when he answered, but a second later, he visibly shook himself and just like that she had his full attention again. “Would not rule it out; however, we should keep options open, da?”
Maggie worried her bottom lip as she considered his reply. “You know, we could ask Luka Markov again?—”
“Nyet!” Anatoly started shaking his head the second she brought up the name. “He is dangerous, Maggie. Is out of question.”
That struck a nerve and Maggie’s hands went to her waist, her brow furrowing into a stern frown. “You know you have no authority over me, right? I can go ask him myself.”
Her bad attitude evaporated a second later with the expression of abject fear that darkened Anatoly’s features. He started chattering back at her in Russian, seemed to realize his mistake, and started again. “Maggie, he is werewolf. They are powerful and not to be trifled with. Please, promise me you will not approach Markov again.”
“I’m a cop, I don’t care,” she growled back at him. This was the second time he had talked her out of what she would otherwise do as a police officer. “I put myself in harm’s way everyday. It’s. My. Job.”
Anatoly fixed her with a gentle stare. He was being patient, despite clearly being afraid for her, but he had to learn she couldn’t just back down every time he was uncomfortable with an aspect of her profession.
“Show me in job description where it says you must face werewolf?” It was the one question she couldn’t refute.
“You know I can’t,” she replied without hesitating. “But to my bosses, Markov is just a crime boss. They are going to ask me why I didn’t pursue this angle of the case… What am I supposed to say? That my boyfriend asked me not to? I’d get laughed out of the room… Why are you smiling?”
She frowned. A broad grin had captured his expression now, his eyes glittering in that special way they always did when he looked at her.
“You have never referred to me as boyfriend until now,” Anatoly pointed out, that twinkle still in his gaze.
Maggie blushed, but refused to back down. “Don’t change the subject.”
“Izvinite.” He carefully closed the distance between them and took her hands in his, removing them from her hips where they had been planted this entire time. “Is unpleasant discussion. I do not enjoy making you cross with me.”
“I’m not cross…” she pouted, trying to resist making eye contact. If she did, it’d be all over and she’d cave to his request. “I don’t like being told what to do.”
