Page 51 of The Diamond Thief
“Already done,” I say with a grin. I stab a forkful of lettuce. “Just waiting for you to fall asleep. You do sleep heavily.”
He points his fork at me. “That’s actually not the least bit true. What did you use on me that night to get me out so hard?”
“Probably the same thing you used on me in the van.”
“Point taken.” He lifts his wine glass. “To an evenly matched contest.”
I clink his glass. “To pretending to be lesser so it appears evenly matched.”
His grin is broad. “You are really something, Jade.”
“As are you, Jacob.”
He pushes back his chair. “I could do for some music. How about you?”
“It is rather missile-silo silent in here.”
He heads across the room, past the sofa and an overstuffed chair, to a cabinet on the far wall. I gulp a few more bites to make sure I am well fortified for whatever’s next, then follow him.
He reveals a small sound system run on a tablet.
“You get Spotify down here?” I ask. I am curious if he runs a satellite or some other feed for information.
He laughs. “No, I already own pretty much the world’s complete compilation of music.”
“Even Taylor Swift? I heard she’s pretty hard-line about how her stuff is sold.”
“Do you like her? I can play some.”
“No, I want to hear what you like.”
“All right.” He runs a finger across the screen. After a moment a slow jazzy blues number fills the room.
“Nice,” I say. “Part of life on the farm?”
“Part of life on the farm.”
“Don’t tell me you play the fiddle.”
He laughs. “No. But I did take up the saxophone in middle school.”
I try to picture the hard-featured Jacob Holt as a child. It doesn’t fit.
He takes my glass from me and sets it on a coffee table. “Do you dance?”
“With the best of them,” I say.
He takes me in his arms, and I try to shut off all the thoughts about escape, security codes, air ducts. My body tells me it is very late in the night, and probably waiting is the best course.
Besides, his hard body is against mine, and all my senses wake up. I remember our night together, and I’m pretty sure another one might be in the cards.
I have a wisp-thin packet of a sleeping agent sewn inside the label of my sweater, but it can wait.
I want this.
