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“It can be for today.”
He hoped such a word wouldn’t give him hives. He enjoyed Hannah’s friendship and he sure didn’t have any complaints about their misguided hook up in Vegas, despite the second thoughts that intruded on the morning after.
For now, he could play his part, content in the knowledge that it was only an act for whoever was on the other end of the transmission. Regardless of what brought her here, the woman in his arms needed his help and he wouldn’t shirk that responsibility.
“Then we’d best get to it.”
He took her hand as they headed out to her car. In the parking lot, he noticed the rental car agreement on the front seat. “Did you have car trouble?”
“Sort of.”
“Come on, Hannah.” There was no way anyone was listening out here. “Give mesomethingI can use.”
“I will. It’s just—” she paused, pressing her lips together. “Suter and Kellerman already knew.”
“Knew what?” Today wasn’t the kind of day that lent itself to assumptions.
“Me. Us,” she corrected, pointing a finger back and forth between them. “God, I’ve made a mess.”
“We’ve both dealt with messes before.”
“I’m afraid this is different.” She shook her head and he wished she hadn’t dropped the sunglasses over her eyes. “That felt like a witch hunt in there.”
“Cost of doing business.” He shrugged her duffel bag up over his shoulder and closed the door. “Is this all you have?”
She nodded. “It was a spur of the moment thing. Any chance you have a spare phone?”
“I’ve got a little of everything in the store. Left that behind too?”
“My boss was tracking the signal.” She shuffled her feet. “Suter and Kellerman can’t be that rude all the time. Surely someone would complain.”
“I’d be happy enough if all the DEA agents were as easy to look at as you are.”
“You can drop the flattery, Bart, we’re already married.”
He stubbed his toe on the parking block as they headed around the building toward his apartment. A thinking man might pick apart the poor logic of that philosophy, but his mind was stuck on the ‘m’ word.
Marriage hadn’t done him any favors, beyond the miracle of a son who managed to love him despite his many faults.
“How long do you think we have?”
Based on his previous marriage and current circumstances, he figured Hannah would be calling Eva to change the marriage record to a divorce record by this time next week so she could get on with her life.
“I’m thinking forty-eight hours tops,” she said.
Apparently his guess of a week was overly optimistic. “I’ve never done this like an operation, so it comes down to whatever you need,” he said. He handed her his key and gestured for her to lead the way up the stairs.
She stopped suddenly and turned to face him. “I was talking about the search warrant.”
“Oh.”
“What were you talking about?”
“The, um, husband thing.”
She tugged on his shirt and gave him a loud kiss on the lips. “You need to be careful,” she whispered.
Careful. Yeah, that would be easy when he was already thinking of an excuse to keep kissing her and looking for opportunities to hold her. What the hell happened to the ‘just friends’ concept he’d so happily agreed to six weeks ago?
