Page 120 of Smoke Screen
Massive understatement there. “You inspired me.”
The look she gave him, all wide-eyed horror, made him laugh.
“Me?”she said. “The one currently under federal investigation?”
“Yes. You. That day we came to the Thompson Center. Seeing you talk about the exhibits and your passion for the work, I don’t have that.” His half-eaten meal, which he had no desire to finish, sat in front of him. He pushed the plate away and peered across the island, holding her gaze while he sorted out the right words. “Look, Maddy, I don’t know what happens when this case is over. I’ll never be a chatterbox, and I’ve got huge hang-ups, but I love spending time with you.”
“Phin—”
“Wait. You wanted me to talk. I’m talking. Hear me out. Okay?”
She nodded. “Sorry for interrupting.”
“With the crew I live with, I’m used to it. The idea of being a senator, I’ve never told anyone that. Ever. In this family, we don’t share our business. It’s not a criticism or complaint, it’s how we’ve been raised. Stay tough and keep your mouth shut. I’ve felt like I failed myself. That I didn’t have it in me to chase my dream. For you, that might seem like simple conversation. Me? It’s sharing a secret I’ve held since before puberty. You accused me of not trusting you. Well, I just told you something I’ve never spoken of. Sharing my feelings isn’t easy. You need to know that.”
Finally, she reached across the island, grasping his hand. “Thank you for telling me. It’s a gift, really. You’re right; to me, itisconversation. Now I understand why it’s hard for you.”
“Brutallyhard. But I hate fighting with you. It makes me miserable. And strung out.”
“Me too. I picked up my phone a dozen times this morning, but I didn’t think you’d want to talk.”
“Honestly, I didn’t. Until I saw you standing there and all I could think about was how happy I was last night. Then I knew I wanted to try. You have to meet me halfway, though.”
She bobbed her head. “Absolutely. I don’t expect—” She shook her head. “I don’t want you to think you always have to give in. That my expectations are more than you can do. I can’t stand the idea of making you feel that way. I do need to be clued in, so I know I’m hitting a hot button. This morning, I thought you didn’t trust me. Now I know it’s hard for you to express certain things.”
“Thank you, sweet baby Jesus!”
She rolled her eyes, smacked his hand, and grabbed her plate, probably to warm the food that was no doubt cold by now.
She popped the plate in the microwave, pushed a couple of buttons, and faced him again. “How about we take it slow? When all this craziness ends, we’ll go on our first official date. We’re a bit out of order with the whole multiple orgasms last night, but hey, whatever.”
“As long as being out of order doesn’t mean we can’t do more of the multiple orgasms, I’m on board.”
The microwave dinged, and she retrieved the plate, carrying it around and setting it down beside him.
Then she smacked her hand over the back of his neck and hit him with a lip-lock that had him rethinking his workout and a nap. Her tongue darted into his mouth, exploring, gliding in and out, in and out and oh, this woman. He’d never get enough of the whole good-girl, bad-girl fantasy.
He backed up an inch, lifted his hands to her cheeks. “I’m crazy about you. I’m all torn up.”
She kissed him again. A quick one this time that made his brewing erection pulse.
She sat next to him, a sly grin on her face. Clearly, she understood the condition she’d left him in.
“Sorry, big boy. I’m starving.” She picked up her fork, but leaned over, getting close to his ear. “After we eat, maybe we can continue doing things out of order.”
Oh, yeah, they could.
“And I’m crazy about you, too.” She went back to her food, breaking off a dainty piece of pancake. “Now, what did Zeke say about you doing something you’re passionate about?”
“He was surprisingly calm. As long as I can work part-time for BARS, he’s fine with it.”
She picked up the pitcher of maple syrup and drenched her pancakes. After the time and precision she’d taken with the butter, this was a puzzle. How the hell did she eat it with so much syrup?
A lot to learn.
“You know,” she said, “why don’t you talk to Kayla? Maybe you can work for her part-time. You go to political functions, anyway. You could double-dip.”
He snorted. “Double-dip?”
