Page 64 of Smoke Screen
She didn’t mind.
Right now, she didn’t mind a lot of things.
More.
That’s all she wanted. More of him and the stars and an evening so perfect that her life didn’t feel as if it had imploded.
Don’t think.
Before her good-girl senses took over, she slipped her hand around his neck, drawing him closer, deepening the kiss until tongues collided and her head did a weird spinny thing that was fairly epic. He brought his hand up, gently running it along her arm, his thumb stroking her skin.Whoa.So good.
More, more, more.
She leaned in, her upper body straining for contact and …
Music blared from next door. Maddy stiffened, the sound an absolute slap to her good-girl side to stay alert. She blinked, then blinked again, clearing the Phin-inflicted haze.
Smokey Robinson.
“Rohan.” Phin jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “It’s a nice night. He probably opened his door. I’ll tell him to lower it.”
He lifted one hip and reached into his pocket for his phone. Maddy set her hand on his arm, that spell she didn’t want to break sufficiently broken.
Did Rohan see them out here? She peered beyond Phin at the stone wall separating the suites. No. She’d have seen him out there. Maddy patted Phin’s arm. “Don’t. It’s okay.”
“Actually, it’s not. You’re a guest and it’s late.”
“Please, don’t. I … just don’t.”
She’d already barged in on them. Now she wanted him to lower his music?
Phin put his phone away. “Suit yourself. He won’t have it on long. I think he needs it to wind down. I never asked, but it’s a common occurrence.”
Settling back into the cushions, Maddy kicked out of her shoes, tucked her legs under her, and bobbed her head to the beat of “I Second That Emotion.” “He likes Smokey Robinson?”
“He likes it all. This’ll probably lead to Drake or Tammy Wynette. His musical taste is eclectic.”
“That’s fun. It’s like a little surprise each time.”
“I never thought of it that way, but yeah. I guess it is.”
He stretched his legs in front of him, rested his head back, and they sat quietly for a few seconds before Phin started tapping his fingers against his thigh in perfect time with the music.
“You like this music?” Maddy asked.
“What’s not to like?”
“True.”
And then, God help her, he started singing. Pitch perfect. How that was even possible with Smokey’s falsetto and Phin’s not-so-falsetto, Maddy had no clue.
Phin Blackwell. A man of many talents.
Legs still tucked under her, she angled around to face him. “You have a great voice.”
“Another of my crazy dreams. I’m more of a country guy. When I was ten, I swore I’d be in Nashville by now.” He laughed. “I’d sing into a broom in front of my imaginary audience of fifty thousand people.”
“Oh, I think we all did that at some point. Did you really want to be a singer?”
