Page 48 of The Most Wonderful Crime of the Year
And Maggie wanted to kill him for all new reasons. She might have done exactly that if he hadn’t started tossing things from the hall to the floor by her bed. Blankets and pillows and—
“Hey!” she snapped, but he was already dragging something heavy through the doorway. “What is that?”
It landed on the floor with athump.
“My mattress.”
For a moment, she just stood there, staring down. “I can see that. But why is it inmyroom?”
“Because I’m sleeping in here.” Ethan started fanning out a bedsheet.
“Why?”
“Because even though I’m a sucker for an only-one-bed romance, I don’t know if it counts if there’s a second bed on the other side of the wall.”
“But Ilikeyour bed being on that side of the wall. I like it even better when you’reinthat bed. And— Wait. You read romance?”
“Sweetheart”—Ethan lowered his voice and his eyes—“I absolutely read romance.”
There was something about him in thatmoment. Boyish and charming and—
“Are you wearing glasses?”
That was it. It was too much. Really. It was. Dark frames rimmed eyes that were the color of sapphires, and somehow it made him look younger and less perfect. Nerdier, but in a way that was...more. More personality. More charm. More vulnerability. Which didn’t make sense at all.
Ethan Wyatt was a persona. A mirage. A character born out of focus groups and case studies and every marketing department’s wet dream. But the guy in front of her... he was different.
It was like a reverse Clark Kent. He’d put on his glasses and revealed his superpower, and Maggie couldn’t help but like him just a little. Which, sadly, made her hate herself quite a lot.
But then he turned and she realized that his pajama bottoms hadThief in the Knightprinted across the butt.
“Please tell me you’re not wearing Ethan Wyatt swag?”
“Margaret!” He sounded scandalized. “Are you looking at my buttocks?”
“Your buttocks have the title of your third novel printed on them.”
“Margaret! Are you trying to undress me?”
“No!”
“Because ordinarily I sleep in the nude, but given the circumstances—”
“Branded buttocks are fine!”
“I mean I’d rather not be totally naked if I’m called upon to protect you. Again.”
“I don’t need your protection,” she shot back and waited for hisreply, but that smug smile slid across his smug face again and he cut his gaze toward the heavy dresser that had obviously been dragged away from the wall.
“That’s always been there,” she said a little too quickly, and thankfully, Ethan didn’t say a word. He just went to the dresser and lifted it as if it weighed nothing before settling it in front of the door.
Maggie felt her cheeks go red. She couldn’t face him, but she managed a sheepish “Thank you.”
He probably wanted to brag about how strong he was or show off his biceps, but he didn’t tease or gloat, and Maggie felt the whole room shift. He wasn’t joking at all when he said, “Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
“I know.” The loose thread on the cuff of her T-shirt was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. “The hat thing was a fluke. I don’t really think anyone would be after me. I mean, I’m nothing. I’m no one. I’m—”
“You’re not no one. And I’m telling you I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Not tonight.” He took a slow step closer. “Not tomorrow.” Another step—another heartbeat, way too hard inside her chest. “Not ever.”
