Page 66 of Shared By the Pilots

His hand slid up my chest and cupped a breast. “This is the only thing I care about right now.”

“That’s awfully short-sighted of you.”

Taylor rumbled with laughter. “I never have been a good businessman.”

We cuddled together for a while. I listened to Taylor’s steady breathing, and enjoyed the way his breath stirred my hair.

“This trip wasn’t a complete failure, at least,” I finally said.

“It wasn’t a complete failure before this.”

“Of course it is,” I replied. “They’re smuggling expensive tequila. That’s probably the only nefarious thing they’re doing. Yes, I know what I saw with the suitcase, but maybe there’s some legitimate explanation I haven’t thought of.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“I don’t know what I believe anymore.”

Another silence stretched.

“Do you want to go home tomorrow?” Taylor asked. “We could leave first thing, be back in Houston before lunch.”

“Do you?” I replied.

“I’ll do whatever you want.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Sure it is,” he drawled. “You’re the one who convinced me to come down here in the first place. If you’re giving up, then I’m fine calling it quits early.”

“But you’ve been suspicious of Excelsior longer than I have.”

“That’s true,” he admitted. “But if all they’re doing is moving tequila…”

His phone rang again. This time, he pulled away from me with a sigh and rolled to the edge of the bed so he could reach down and find his pants. I twisted toward him and gave his ass a very loud, very satisfying smack.

Taylor pointed the phone at me. “You’d better watch yourself, young lady.”

“Young lady? We’re the same age!”

“Act like a child, get treated like a child.”

I ignored him and reached around to squeeze his butt again. He responded by doing the same to me. For a few seconds we played grab-ass, on our knees on the bed, like little kids.

“Taylor Hawkins, speaking,” Taylor finally answered, using his free hand to push me away. I continued playing with him, trying to give his ass another smack that would be loud enough to hear on the other end of the phone.

But then Taylor’s eyes widened and he stepped out of my reach.

“No, of course I’m not in Cabo. Why would I lie about that?”

Someone pounded on the door, three longthumps.

Thinking that it was the hotel staff coming to tell us not to make so much noise, I grabbed a bathrobe out of the closet and walked to the door. “Don’t answer that!” Taylor insisted.

I waved him off and approached the door. I wasn’t stupid enough to open up for a stranger in Mexico. Gazing through the peep-hole, I saw a suited man standing in the hallway, hands clasped in front of him.

“Hi, I’m sorry if we’ve made too much noise,” I said through the door. “We promise to keep it down.”

“Veronica!” Taylor hissed at me. He was gesturing for me to come back.

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