“He doesn’t have to know it’s for you.”
Blake grimaced. “This is Royce we’re talking about. He’ll figure it out.” And he’d lecture Blake about having a death wish and try to intervene. “Start with finding out about her Denver travel. And see if you can track any calls between her and the head of the Denver division.” Kara pulled into a parking garage. “I need to go. I’ll call you when I can talk.” He ended the connection, pulled into a spot beside Kara, and watched her kill her lights as he did the same.
Blake waited on Kara to exit her car before grabbing his duffle and exiting his own, the timing meant to ensure she didn’t have the chance to drive away while he was outside his vehicle. Once she walking toward her trunk, he joined her and took her briefcase.
Surprise flashed in her eyes, like she didn’t expect him to be a gentleman, and he had reason not to be with her, without question, but manners were inbred by his military father. “So you can’t hit me with it,” Blake explained, his hand brushing hers, the connection sending a jolt of pure lust rocketing through his blood.
She shivered and hugged herself, and he knew she wasn’t reacting to the cool evening air floating off the nearby ocean, but to the instant heat simmering between them. “I’d have thought you’d be more likely to hit me with it.”
“Never hit a woman,” Blake assured her, his nostrils flaring with the soft, familiar feminine scent of her he’d been dreaming of for a week now. “Spanked a few, but—”
“Way too much information,” she said, holding up her hands and looking appalled.
“I’m pretty sure you have a creative enough imagination to figure it out on your own anyway.” But the truth was, despite the hot night they’d spent together, there was an innocent quality about her that defied how sizzling she’d been in bed with him. Not innocent, but…something. He doubted seriously she’d gone to any of the many places he had in the past two years. He motioned her toward the elevator. “Let’s go have that chat we need to have.”
“You know everything there is to know,” she insisted, falling into step with him.
“I doubt that,” he commented dryly.
Her brow crinkled. “You doubt and assume too much.”
He almost choked on the irony of that statement. “Only when I have reasons and you’ve given me more reasons in a week than most do in a lifetime.”
She punched the elevator button. “Or you’re so cynical that you see things that aren’t there.”
He stared down at her, thinking how petite she was, how delicate and easily hurt she appeared. How in need of protection. That’s what made woman such weapons. They made a man forget they could pull a trigger just as easily as he could. “We’re both working for Mendez and you think I’m too cynical?”
She bit her bottom lip. He wanted to bite that bottom lip. He wanted to lick it and her. He was going to lick it and her. “I suppose you do have a point there,” she conceded.
They stepped into the elevator and she hit the lobby floor, which was the only option. She leaned on the wall and faced him. He leaned on the wall and faced her. Neither of them spoke as the elevator creaked upward, but the sexual tension between them blistered the walls. She sucked in a breath as if the heat was too much to handle and cut her gaze. Whatever her motivations for sleeping with him in Denver, whatever his for that matter, they’d wanted each other and they still did.
The doors opened and she glanced back at him, pausing as if she knew they were headed to bedroom bliss, and there was no return once they were alone. She was right. She exited with him at her heels and into the typical upscale hotel lobby, including random seating and lots of tile and chandeliers. At the check-in desk, Blake gave his name and waited until the attendant slid a key toward him.
Blake slid it back. “Change my room.”
The fifty-something male frowned and Blake could feel Kara staring at him. “Is there something wrong with the room?” the man asked. “Or…you haven’t seen the room.”
Blake looked at the number on the envelope. “Superstitious. I hate the number 260 and the entire second floor. I need another floor and room.”
A few minutes later they headed to the final bank of elevators and the seventh floor, where a family of four joined them. They exited at the seventh floor and she motioned to the right. “Lucky 711 is this way.”
He smirked and fell into step with her down the hallway. “I prefer to ensure my privacy.”
“He didn’t have the room bugged,” she commented. “I made the reservation and he never asked me the details.”
They stopped at the door and he swiped the card. “Since I know you don’t want this conversation overheard any more than I do, I believe you.” He shoved open the door and grabbed her purse.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, holding onto it.
“This isn’t déjà vu, sweetheart. I won’t be having any toxic surprises tonight.”
She glared at him. “I don’t—”
“I’ll be finding out for myself.”
She wet those lips he was thinking about licking, His c**k jerked, blood running hot. She was killing him, and not softly.
“I guess I would feel the same way,” she admitted finally.
“I guess you would.” He glanced down at her hand still holding the purse.