Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [117]
His gaze touched Maggie’s and all her newfound determination faltered. Without saying a word, he replayed the scene from the night before with just one studied, intense look. Her spine stiffened and she reminded herself that she wasn’t going to make the mistake she’d made last night again.
Oh, right, her mind threw back at her.
“Mornin’,” he drawled as a slow-spreading smile offered the glint of not-quite-straight white teeth.
“Don’t try to peddle any of your country-boy charm on me,” she grumbled. “I’m not in the mood.”
“No?” He had the gall to look surprised. “Why, Ms. McCrae, I thought I’d come back here and find you singing and laughing and ready to face the day.”
“And why is that?”
His mouth twitched as he unsnapped his jacket. “Because, darlin’, you sure were enjoyin’ yourself last night.”
She cleared her throat, and the back of her neck heated. “Well, yes. About that. I don’t think we should…well…” Come on, Maggie. A confident modern woman wouldn’t beat around the bush like this. Oh, Lord…even her private thoughts were part innuendo.
“Don’t think we should what?” Tossing his jacket over the back of a chair, he leaned one jeans-clad hip against the back of the couch.
She folded her arms over her chest. “Okay, wise-ass, I don’t think we should have sex, okay?”
“We didn’t.”
“That’s just a question of semantics, Walker. I’m not ready to play word games with you, okay?”
He lifted a shoulder, sat down in the chair opposite hers, and, after pouring himself a cup of coffee, plucked a green-tinged strawberry from the fruit cup and plopped it into his mouth with maddeningly little concern.
“I think it would be best if…we kept to our separate rooms. Maybe the idea of this suite isn’t such a hot idea. We could have regular hotel rooms or even separate hotels—now there’s an idea.”
“Or we could stretch a blanket across the middle of this room, like they did in that movie years ago—you keep to your side and I’ll keep to mine to protect our respective virtues,” he teased.
“Knock it off. I’m serious about this.”
He lifted one dark eyebrow in skeptical disdain. “Are you?”
“Very.”
The look he sent her fairly sizzled, and her heart thumped crazily, but she nodded stiffly. “Whatever you want,” he drawled, and she couldn’t stop the flush that warmed her cheeks. He knew what she wanted. They both did. That was the problem. Was sleeping with him worth the emotional risk or damage?
“No,” she said out loud, then felt like an idiot.
“I don’t think I asked you a question.”
“Private, one-sided discussion.”
“Let me know if you change your mind.”
“I won’t.”
His smile was downright wicked. “I’m countin’ on it, darlin’.”
“And don’t call me—”
“I won’t.” But his eyes glinted in pure devilment. She didn’t know whether to kiss him or strangle him, so she did the next best thing and ignored all the heated innuendos that seemed to thicken the atmosphere in the room.
Resting the heel of one boot on the cushion of a nearby chair, Thane tossed her one last don’t-bullshit-me grin, then picked up the folded newspaper and scanned the headlines. “Your sister’s still page one.” He looked over the article before handing the section to Maggie, who read it with interest but learned nothing new.
Thane found the sports page and snapped it open, then glanced at her notes. “You’ve got a list,” he observed. “Don’t tell me. People you plan to interview.”
“That’s right, but the first person on the list is you. Where did you go this morning?”
“Miss me?” he taunted.
“About as much as I’d miss a coiled rattler,” she retorted, then settled back in the couch and shook her head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” Sighing, she studied the depths of her coffee—dark and opaque. “I’m just worried.”
He set the paper aside. “You’re not the only one. Since you seem hell-bent to do your own investigation, I decided to jump-start it.”
“How?”
“I did some checking.”
She was surprised. “And what did you find out?”
“That Wade Pomeranian was out of town, as he said.