Page 50 of Mongrels United
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Nash cursed when Clip informed him that someone was at the door to the apartment.
“Tell them to go away,” he said, not looking up from the book he was reading. Invariably, those who hammered on his door at this time of night were drunks from the tavern below, who thought it would be a fine idea to rouse the owner of the tavern and have him come drink with them.
Clip was usually good at getting rid of them. Nash’d had the algorithms adjusted a dozen times, so the little bot could make better executive decisions. Perhaps it was time to take him back to the organic coder. Trade some goodwill or flat-out pay for the work.
Nash didn’t want to be disturbed tonight. He didn’t want to have to deal with anything. Dealing with crap was the default mode of his life. Subordinates and lieutenants worked well until they hit the unexpected, then they came to him. So everything that reached Nash, from the dozens of active businesses he had an interest in, was always a problem he had to unsnarl.
Sometimes, he simply had to detach. Breathe.
Which was why he was grimly trying to read this book. He’d already forgotten the title. And he was having trouble keeping the characters straight, too.
“But they are insisting they speak to you,” Clip said, doing the little roll back-and-forth that indicated he was feeling stress. “They’re showing no signs of inebriation. And they’re…pushy!”
Harsh criticism from a bot who had tolerance and diplomacy built into him—mostly to compensate for Nash’s lack.
Nash put the book aside. Who was he kidding, anyway? “Who is it?”
“Chief of Staff to the Captain, Grady Read,” Clip said promptly.
Nash’s heart thudded. Once. His belly cramped. “She’s really here?”
“At the door,” Clip confirmed.
“It’s near midnight,” Nash pointed out. But he was already on his feet.
“Eleven thirty-seven p.m.,” Clip replied impassively, rolling out of his way.
As Nash headed to the door, a single thought repeated itself. Had she somehowheardhim? Intuited that all he could think about was having her stand before him once more?
He still didn’t know how he had pulled away from her and that delicious, mind-altering kiss, last night. He’d been daydreaming about kissing her all through that long day. Every time he’d looked up from the little screen, and later, the big screen with the game on it, he’d catch a glimpse of the curve of her mouth. The intelligent light in her eyes, which was sexier than any low-cut dress he’d ever seen. The little furrow between her brows that told him that this woman knew how towork, with a single-minded focus.
How would that focus manifest with other activities? Would she be so powerfully focused in bed? His body ached to know.
Her kiss had been shocking, and he’d reacted in kind until his brain had caught up with his instincts and reminded him exactly who he was kissing. And where.
And she had failed to take the second kiss. She’d heeded his warning. Of course she had. She was the Chief of Staff and knew how to reason, even if her logic went against what her instincts wanted. She had stepped away as he’d known she would.
He’d spent all day finding the people on her list, distracting himself with work, trying to emulate her self-control and focus. He’d found seven people and none of them had known Nason Wheelock, except as a name—as the Last Skinwalker.
It had been a frustrating day, so he’d come back here to eat and bury himself in a story and forget about theEndurance. It hadn’t worked, because in between paragraphs, he’d find himself recalling a moment when he’s studied the shape of her chin, or the line of her neck. The curve of her shirt over her breast. The shape of her hip beneath the trousers, when she walked. And were her legs really that long?
Nash reached the door and paused, his hand over the controls, and breathed in. Let it out. She had to be here for an update on his investigation, today. He had to behave as professionally as she.
He tapped the controls. The door slid aside, revealing daylight, for this side of the Palatine drum was out of synch with ship’s time at the moment. And faintly, the sound of heavy music, and loud voices, floating around the corner and up the external stairs from the tavern.
Grady wrapped her arms around her middle as the door opened, as if the opening of the door had surprised her. Her eyes were wide. “I thought about it,” she said.
Nash’s thoughts scattered. She wasn’t here about the Bellish!
He gripped the corner of the door frame, to stop himself reaching for her. “You’re here to tell me why you’re not going to take that second kiss? Because I already know why you shouldn’t.”
Astonishingly, her eyes grew brighter, reflecting the light of the room behind him.Were those tears? His belly cramped.
“I don’t know you,” Grady said. Her voice was steady despite what he thought really were tears in her eyes. “I don’t knowanyone,” she added. “I thought I was good at understanding people. Better than most, at least.”
“You are fantastic at reading people,” he assured her. She’d anticipated him more than once, while most people seemed surprised by what he did or said.
