Page 21 of The Blonde Who Came in from the Cold
He swiped the card and the doors slid closed, and the next thing she knew, King was pressing her against the mirrored interior. Leaning close as he whispered, “Not. A. Word.”
“I know.” She wanted to bite his lip off—and not in the sexy way.
He was looking down into her eyes. Fingers running through her hair, a whisper-soft brush against her neck. “There are no doubt cameras everywhere. Possibly audio.”
“Not. A. Moron.” She echoed his earlier cadence and pushed against him, but he didn’t budge. It was highly annoying.Hewas annoying, with his stupid shoulders and stupid hands. Stupid stubble covering that stupid jaw.
“Did you forget your razor?” Alex asked him.
“Did you forget the other half of your dress?”
Alex didn’t want to smile, so she pinched one of his nipples instead.
“Ow.” But he didn’t move and didn’t wince, and his gaze didn’t even start to waver. “What are you doing here... sweetheart?”
She was going for the nipple again when he grabbed her hand and interlaced their fingers, pushed her arms over her head and pressed her against the wall more fully—all of him pressed against all of her. From the camera in the corner, they either looked madly in love or insanely hot for each other. Or both. Probably both. They were as indecent as you can be with your clothes on, and Alex didn’t like that one bit.
“Me?” She tried to reverse their positions, but he dropped his hands to her waist and lifted. And then Alex had no choice but to wrap her legs around him. And squeeze. Like a snake. “What areyoudoing here? This is supposed to be my...”Cameras. Audio.“Vacation. I worked hard for this vacation.”
“No. It’smyvacation, so I’m going to ask one more time—”
The elevator stopped. The doors opened. And Margaret Merritt said, “Well, it’s about time.”
Chapter Eleven
Alex
Alex didn’t move. Not a muscle. She couldn’t even think as she looked at Merritt—the quirk of her lip. The tilt of her eyebrow. She’d always seemed omniscient and all-knowing—more angel than agent—and, not for the first time, Alex got the feeling that this might just be some elaborate game—a silly lark. Like the fates were toying with Alex and making her dance.
Withhim.
“Now, before you tell me how much you hate each other, you may want to straighten your clothes and... disengage... before we get kicked out of this hotel for indecent behavior.”
Alex dropped to the floor and stepped out of the elevator like she and Michael Kingsley had never even met.
Merritt opened a pair of double doors, and Alex followed her into a room that felt like a slightly smaller version of the lobby below. White and glossy. The furniture was modern, and the finishes were chrome, and the whole thing felt like it was made of ice even though the sun was almost scorching as it burned through the wall of windows. Alex told herself that that was why her face was red and little beads of sweat were sliding down her skin.
But King looked like a man who had never been embarrassed in his life. If anything, he just looked angry.
“Is it clean?” he asked under his breath. The penthouse felt as sterile as an operating room, but that wasn’t what he was asking and they all knew it.
“It is,” Merritt told him.
“Good.” King took off his linen jacket and tossed it over the backof the long white couch. Then he started rolling up his shirtsleeves. Slowly. “So there’s no reason why you can’t explain why my first solo mission is not as solo as I was led to believe?”
For the first time, Alex was grateful King was there, asking questions so she didn’t have to. She didn’t know how a senior intelligence officer with the CIA would take to being challenged, but she definitely wasn’t expecting Merritt to pull something from her pocket and toss it in King’s direction. He caught it in a flash.
It was a pouch, small and black and velvet. There was an intricateLembroidered on the side in pale gold thread, Alex noticed, while King tossed it gently, testing its weight.
“Go on,” Merritt told him, so he loosened the strings and tipped the pouch over, sending dozens of small green stones tumbling out onto the palm of his hand.
“Are those...” Alex inched closer.
“Uncut emeralds?” Merritt filled in. “Yes. Approximately ten million dollars’ worth.”
King cut his eyes at Alex.
“I’m not going to steal them.” Alex pouted back.
