Sex, Lies and Midnight (12 page)

“A lady deserves the best,” he said, shifting just an inch. Enough to trap her body between his and the car seat.

“And you are…?”

“Sweetheart, I’m the best at everything I do,” he promised, his smile flashing in the moonlight.

“Fancy that. So am I.”

“This should be interesting, then.”

“Indeed,” she agreed, reaching up to give his cheek a patting sort of caress. Then with a wink, she slipped around his body with as much physical contact as possible so he could shut the car door.

Before she made it all the way around, he reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder. Maya’s heart pounded. Excitement surged in a rush of heat. Her eyes met his, her breath snagging in her throat at the intensity she saw in those rich, green depths.

She swallowed, loving the tingling swirls of desire sensitizing every inch of her body, but just a little afraid that she might be playing with a fire she couldn’t control.

“You forgot this,” he said, his words low and a little husky. Good. He was as affected as she was. Slowly, she lowered her gaze to his hand. “The goody bag of leftover chocolate cake.”

“Bring it on up,” Maya suggested, stepping out of his hold. “We’ll share it.”

Without needing to check, she knew his eyes were locked on her as she made her way up the cobblestone walkway. She put a little extra body English into the sway of her hips and the toss of her hair, then waited on the wraparound porch for him to open the wide French doors.

Hand in hand, they crossed the lobby.

“Good evening,” Mr. Hamilton, the innkeeper, greeted. “I hope you had a lovely dinner with your family.”

“We did, thanks,” Maya murmured. Halfway up the stairs, she frowned. How had he known they were having dinner with her family? Small-town grapevine, undoubtedly. Still, she moved closer to Simon. She didn’t know why, but Ham had always kind of creeped her out.

Distracted by that thought, it wasn’t until they reached the upstairs landing that Maya realized Simon had won their little game in the car. He’d totally sidestepped her question, and in doing so, proved that he actually was the one in control.

She cast a long, considering look over her shoulder. Meeting Simon’s eyes, she ran her fingers through her curls and gave him a sultry, inviting smile.

His foot snagged on the antique carpet runner, making him hop a little to regain his balance.

Pressing her lips together to keep from laughing, Maya turned back around and finished her hip-swaying journey toward her room. Once there, she turned to face Simon. He had a wary look in his eyes, like a guy waiting for someone to pull a gun on him. Good.

Maya leaned forward and brushed a barely there kiss over his cheek. Pulling her old-fashioned skeleton key out of her bag, she inserted it in the door and looked back at Simon.

He’d gone from watching for her to pull a gun to looking like he was waiting for the shot.

“Sweet dreams,” she murmured.

There. That should clarify the control issue.

6

SIMON STARED AT THE CLOSED door. Part of him, a part so rarely let out that it was probably covered in mold, wanted to toss aside the case. To totally forget his plan of getting close enough to Tobias to gain entry to the guy’s life, house and motorcycle shop. It wanted to pound that door open. The other part, the one always in control, struggled to reel himself back in.

He forced himself to turn away and, with leaden feet, headed to the next door and his own room. Inside, he leaned against the door and closed his eyes. What a night. Drama, comedy and the discomfort of spending it all in a state of sexual frustration. Good times.

Opening his eyes, he scanned the room out of habit. Not that he expected any problems. The room was the epitome of rustic plush. A thick down comforter and a pile of welcoming pillows decorated the polished four-poster bed. A matching walnut dresser spanned the length of the moonlit window and watercolors by local artists graced the walls. Opposite Simon was a door connecting to Maya’s room.

His body tensed and he’d taken two steps toward that door before he yanked himself back. It practically glowed in neon, screaming
temptation’s trap, just a knock away.

Simon forced himself to look away. He busied himself checking his luggage, crouching down to skim his fingers under the dresser where he’d hidden his gun case.

Still there.

His gaze slid to the door again.

What could it hurt to knock? Maybe see if she wanted to hang out a little? Pick up the flirting where they’d left off in the car and see where things went?

No. He was on the job. A job in which he’d already lied to her once. He’d have to be a total dick to try and seduce her under these circumstances.

Suck it up,
Barton,
he thought.
She’s off-limits
.

Ignoring his body’s furious protests, he emptied his pockets then used his cell phone to check emails. Other than junk, there was one from Hunter reminding him that he was reassigned and to check in daily until he’d reported for duty.

Simon cast a quick glance at the window, then winced. Not that he was paranoid or anything, but he wouldn’t be surprised to find out Hunter had tracked the GPS on his phone and would show up at any time to demand he step off the case.

Which meant he couldn’t waste any time.

He still had the keys to the Honda. He’d wait until her lights were out, then give it a half hour before he went back to town. Depending on where Tobias was, home or the motorcycle shop, he’d break in and do a little recon.

Tossing his coat on the plump chair in the corner, he stripped off his shirt and draped it over his coat. Needing to do something to shake off the intense sexual tension pounding through his body, he dropped to the floor to do pushups in quick succession.

As he hit ninety, he felt a cool draft. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. Turning his head, he saw two sets of bare feet standing in the doorway connecting their rooms. One set had vivid red toenails, with tiny flowers painted in the corners. The other set was covered in black-and-white fur.

His gaze traveled upward, taking in the smooth golden-skinned legs. They were about a mile long, cut off midthigh by a teeny tiny leopard-print satin nighty. He’d have to wrench his neck to get the rest of the view, so he jackknifed into standing position.

Avoiding looking at her scantily clad body while he was so scantily clad himself, Simon dove for his shirt. Before he could grab it, though, Maya’s cat padded over and pounced on it.

“No need to stop on my account,” Maya said, her words low and husky. “I was enjoying the show.”

Simon grimaced, rubbing his hand over the cat’s soft head as a pre-apology before trying to tug his shirt out from under it. The kitty rubbed her black-and-white head against his fingers, letting out a soft purring sort of meow. Then, before he could move her and get his shirt, the cat swatted at him.

“Hey!”

“Sorry. Dottie gets a little snippy sometimes.”

“She almost snipped the tip of my fingers off.”

“What? A big strong man like you, with all those lovely, lovely muscles…” Her words trailed off as she let her eyes trace over his bare chest, shoulders and biceps. Appreciation glowed in her golden eyes as she wet her bottom lip and sighed.

“Yeah. A big strong guy like you, I’d say you can hold your own with one tiny little kitty-cat.”

Simon eyed the cat, who was staring at him through pale green eyes that just a second ago had been slitted with pleasure. Was the feline’s moodiness indicative of her mistress’s personality?

“I’d kinda like my shirt,” he muttered, feeling like an idiot. Not thinking, he turned to glare at the cat’s owner as if she’d trained her pet to hold clothing captive.

His brain immediately short circuited.

She was gorgeous.

Black curls waved over her shoulders, teasing the tips of her satin, leopard-print-covered breasts. Her nightgown looked like a slip, with narrow straps holding up the shimmery fabric and a swath of lace highlighting the curves of her breasts. As a nod to modesty, she wore a robe of sorts. The same fabric as the nightgown, it had wide lace lapels and draped low, hanging from the edge of her shoulders to the floor as if gravity were trying to torture him.

“I think Dottie would prefer to keep it for herself,” Maya said, laughing a little. She sent the cat a look of approval.

Feeling ganged up on, and half-naked, Simon shoved both hands in the front pocket of his jeans. He didn’t mind the ganging up. He could hold his own, regardless of numbers.

But the half-naked part? Not conducive to keeping his hands off Maya. Especially when she was looking at him like he was a hot fudge sundae and she had a desperate urge to play in the whipped cream.

“Look,” he said, not sure where he was going but knowing it couldn’t be where he wanted. “I’m pretty worn out. Early start, long drive. You know, busy day with meeting your family and trying to convince your brother that a polygraph wasn’t necessary for dating his sister.”

Her lips twitched, but she didn’t say anything. She just shifted to lean one bare—oh, God, the robe had slipped down—shoulder against the doorframe and arched her brow.

“Afraid of sharing your secrets?” she teased.

“Considering one of my secrets is that we are in a fake relationship, here to keep your family off your back? I’d say sharing is ill-advised, wouldn’t you?”

“Actually, that’d be my secret.” She gave him an amused look, but he could see the tension in her eyes, as if she had a few other secrets, too. Juicier secrets.

Secrets that might bring her father down? Something to consider. But Simon had managed his career to date without having to use his body and he wasn’t about to start now. A key point, since he had a strong suspicion that at some point, between him and Maya, there would be bodies involved.

“Regardless, I think it’d be better for both of us if we limit my time with your brother to large group settings.”

“Not a bad idea,” she agreed, straightening from the doorframe and stepping farther into the room. Simon tensed, his body on full alert. This was a bad idea. She shouldn’t be in here. Not with him half-naked and her looking so freaking gorgeous.

“I was lonely,” she said quietly. Her smile dimmed a little and the stress of the evening’s events was clear on her pretty face. “Too many memories, too much to think about.”

“I can’t imagine how hard it would be to see family again after so long.”

“Harder than I thought,” she acknowledged. “I knew it would be rough to come home, but I didn’t realize it’d make me miss…them.”

Them
was clearly her father. Simon’s father had walked out so early in his life that he’d never been real enough to actually miss. But Maya’s pain was coming through loud and clear. Fatherless, he had no idea what a tight relationship with a parent felt like, let alone the loss of one. But if the look on her face was anything to go by, it pretty much sucked.

“I’d imagine there’s not a whole lot more devastating than a rift between daddy and his little girl?”

“Daddy’s girl?” she said with a tearful laugh. “Did you know that was my nickname growing up? I haven’t heard that term in, well, forever.”

Then, as if consciously breaking off the weepy emotions, she gave him a bright smile. “But hey, as we clearly saw tonight, daddy has a new girl. Right?”

“She’s nothing. Not compared to you. I’m sure your father feels the same. Maybe if you talk to him, he’ll tell you just that.”

“You’re so sweet,” she said with a smile. “I knew coming in here would make me feel better. I’ll bet I could feel even better, though. Don’t you think?”

It took all of his willpower to keep his gaze locked on her face. Not because he was trying to respect her privacy or anything. But because he knew if he looked, he’d have to touch. His fingers ached with the need to trail over her skin, to see if it was as soft, as silky as he’d imagined. To bury his mouth in the delicate curve of her neck, to envelope himself in the delicious scent of that glorious hair.

Bad idea, Barton. Seriously bad.