Page 65 of Mr. Wilde

“Me either.” He laughs. “I was so smug. Started throwing out bets only to lose my sports car.” Max slides his glasses up his nose, appearing nervous. “Can I get you some coffee?”

I push myself up against the headboard. “Yes. That might help. What time is it?”

“It’s still early. Just past seven. Do you need to get back? I was going to order some breakfast from room service.”

“I don’t work until later.” A yawn escapes before I can stop it. “But you don’t have to do that on account of me.”

Max stands. His toned stomach is now at eye level. My eyes latch on to the thin trail of dark hair that disappears inside that towel. I close my eyes before I make a bigger fool of myself than I already am. “I’m starving. So it’s no trouble. Why don’t you take a shower or enjoy a soak in the tub? Then join me for a bite to eat before you leave?”

I hesitate for a moment. As tempting as the tub sounds, I think I’d feel better with a quick shower. My nerves already feel like a live wire beneath my skin. There’s no way I could relax enough to enjoy a bath right now. “If I can take a quick shower, that would be great. Thank you.”

“Of course. I’m so grateful you came to help me. You seemed so close to a breakthrough. I get the same way, not wanting to give up until sleep takes over.” Max gives me a bashful grin, eliciting the same from me.

Does this man have any idea how handsome he is?

Reaching up, I run my hand over my hair. I’m afraid to think what I look like right now. My face heats.

“I’m sorry, Cass. Let me give you some privacy.” Max walks toward the bedroom door. “You’re just…” He turns back to face me, and our eyes connect.

“Just what?”

He shakes his head. “You’re good for me.”

I tilt my head. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t explain it. You have a calming effect on me.”

A grin crosses my features. I’m not sure what I was expecting him to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. I swing my legs over the side of the bed as he makes his way down the hall, the muscles of his back making my mouth water. Hell. I’m afraid to think what my morning dreams are going to consist of now.

Exiting the bathroom, I feel a bit more refreshed, even if I’m wearing yesterday’s clothes. The scent of coffee and bacon lures me down the hall. My stomach growls. Man, eating at this place too often could require me to work out every day.

“Come on, Cass.” Max waves me over. “Eat.”

I move tentatively, sitting on the opposite end of the table from him. The need for some space between us feels essential after the towel modeling from earlier.

“Pick your poison.” He lifts the silver domes from above two plates. “Veggie omelet or pancakes?”

I grin. “Duh. Pancakes.”

“God, I love you.”

I blink wordlessly at his response.

“I was hoping you liked pancakes too. I wasn’t sure if you were on some sort of strict diet. I mean, your body…” He shuffles a bit, seeming to rethink his words. “You’re so fit, I mean.” His head drops. “You’re perfect.”

I giggle. “Thank you. You don’t need to butter me up. I’ll keep working on the phone data. You won that chess game fair and square.” He lets out a ragged exhale, appearing relieved.

We eat in companionable silence. The last twenty-four hours has felt a little too comfortable. I have to force myself to realize this is merely a man sharing his thanks through food.

“Thank you for this.” I push to my feet. “I’m going to let you get back to work and head back home.”

“Home?”

“Yes.”

“At the club?”

I drop my gaze to the floor, my ears heating. “Yes.”