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“I thought, for sure, I’d get to pull a knife on you again. What gives?”
“The very thought of that makes me regret sleeping alone.”
“So, why did you stay away?”
“Because there’s a saying … absence makes the dick grow harder, or something.”
Snorting a laugh, I shake my head. “Ah, I think you’re mistaken. I believe the phrase you’re looking for is, makes the heart grow fonder.”
Taking my hand in his, he guides my palm to the massive bulge in his slacks. “I’m not mistaken, at all.”
Swallowing hard, I run my hand over what must be one painful erection tenting his slacks. “Oh.” Another moment of touching, and he releases my hand. “Well, I wish you would’ve, because I heard noises in my room.”
“What kind of noises?”
It somehow feels silly saying it aloud to him, like I’m admitting I believe in ghosts. “Just shifting of the walls, I guess. It’s nothing.”
“This place can be haunting at times.” His palm slides down my belly, only the tip of his finger breaching the waistband of my khakis. “However, if you feel something touching you while you sleep, just keep your eyes closed and roll with it.”
The thought of that makes me chuckle. “I’ll try.”
“I have a meeting out of state this afternoon, and will return this evening. Expect me.”
“Out of state?”
“Yes. Vermont. I trust you’ll wear something appropriate.”
“I don’t have anything sexy, if that’s what you mean.”
“Ah, then, we’ll have to rectify that.” Warm lips press into mine again, his tongue dipping past my teeth. “In the meantime, wear something expendable.”
“Expendable? As in, I don’t care if something happens to it?”
“Exactly.”
“Can I ask what for?”
“You can ask, but I’m not going to tell you.” He bends forward and seizes my mouth in yet another kiss. “I’ll see you tonight.”
As he pulls away, I reach for his arm. “Hey, do you have any idea why Rand called us down?”
Glancing toward his reflection in the elevator wall, he straightens his tie and jacket. “Yes. I’m firing Nell.” The playful tone from seconds ago dulls with indifference, as if her firing doesn’t matter to him, one way, or the other.
“Wait. What?”
“I can’t have someone in this house who constantly accuses me of murdering my wife and son. Call it a conflict of interest.”
“But what I told you … I didn’t want her to know.”
“She won’t know.”
“Well, it’s, like, obvious.”
Gaze shifting back to me, he plants his palm against the wall as he leans in. “And if her accusations were directed at you, what would do?”
“Confront her.”
“Which is the purpose of this meeting. The outcome depends on her response. Either way, it’s out of my hands.” He straightens again, rolling his shoulders back. “Rand does the hiring and firing for me.”
