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She’s the chief medical examiner. And I’m a homicide detective.
These opportunities will be few and far between for us, and there’s no chance in hell I’m gonna risk screwing it up.
“What’s in Biscayne Bay?” Smiling—the real kind of smile now, and not the ‘I’m going to hurt you’ kind—she allows me to help her into her chair. “Andwhereis Biscayne Bay?”
“Florida.” I slide my hand up and cup her angular jaw in my palm, then bending forward, I press a kiss to her cheek and inhale her sweet scent to combat the artificial plane air already clogging my nose. “I told you, we’re heading for the ocean. Coconut bras are a must.” Pulling back, I wink and retreat until I can drop into my chair on the opposite side. “I want to see you wearing damn near nothing, Chief. For seven whole days.”
“Ever heard of melanoma?” She rolls her eyes, but it’s playful at worst. Flirting. “Sunbathing is terrible for your skin.”
“Ever heard of sunscreen?” I look up at the sound of heels moving on the carpeted floor and wait as Jacinta approaches with two flutes of bubbling champagne. The woman is around my age. Late twenties, probably, early thirties at the most. She’sblonde and thin but with wide hips and a chest that is surely not the one she was born with.
Which is cool and all.
What a woman chooses to do with her body is no concern of mine… unless she’s my wife.
Then I can find myself concerned as hell.
“Thank you, Jacinta.” I take Minka’s glass and set it down in front of my staring wife, then accepting mine, I turn from the hostess and focus only on the woman who sits across from me. “You need to stop giving other women the stink eye.”
“I wasn’t.” Scowling, she picks up her glass and studies the contents. “She’s pretty.”
“Is she?” I set my elbows on the table, but extend my hand and wait for her to tap her champagne against mine. “I only see you, Mayet. Especially when I’m on my fuckin’ honeymoon.”
“I didn’t actually say anything unkind.” Smirking, she taps my glass and brings it up to her nose. “I was only making an observation.”
“And your observations tend to get me in trouble. Do you need anything before we take off?”
“No.” Sitting back at ease, she sips her beverage and grins from behind the crystal lip. “I’m going on my honeymoon. I think I’m about set.”
“You’re excited, huh?” Giving up on sitting all alone on my side of the table, I shove up with quick movements, surprising Minka as I swing around and plop down in the chair beside hers. Our shoulders touch, and her hair rests against the sleeve of my shirt. Already, her perfect scent beats out the air being pumped through the jet’s systems.
Best of all, though, her hand comes down to settle in my lap. Her wedding band, not typically something either of us wear on our fingers, wraps around her digit today.
For this week only, we forgo the chains that typically hang around our necks, and instead, we follow tradition.
A wedding band circling that one, very special finger. An eternity. A symbol of love.
Because fuck me, I’m a man in love.
“When was the last time you didn’t work?” I set my glass down, while Jacinta goes about her duties, folding in the stairs and closing the jet’s door to prepare us for flight. While the pilot runs through his checks, and the copilot makes sure his colleague does it right.
I focus on Minka. On her delicate collarbones, on full display in her scant top. Her long hair, left down today, when often, she wears it in a ponytail for work. I study her glittering eyes and notice the bags she usually carries beneath are less severe after a full night’s rest.
Vacation suits her.
Time away from dead bodies and responsibilities suits her.
“And what are the chances of us extending this into a two-week thing?”
Immediately, she scoffs, her chest bouncing with quiet laughter. “You get seven days. Total.” Turning in her chair, she leaves her hand in my lap but nudges her legs up until her thigh rests over top of mine. “Aubree’s going to lose her shit if we’re gone for longer than a week. The cat will probably die. Fletch will land a case that you’ll want to run anyway. Because let’s not sit here and pretend I’m the only workaholic inside this million-dollar plane.”
Seventy-million. But shit, who am I to split hairs?
“Vacation sounds good and fun, Archer. Even for people like us. But that’s because days one and two will be a pleasant break. Day three you’ll be bugging out of your skin to get back on duty.”
“You think so?” I pick up my champagne again, but only because the jet’s engines roar to life and the entire frame of theplane begins a constant, heavy vibration. “You think I couldn’t go a week without work?” I press a gentle kiss to her lips, tasting the champagne she’s yet to lick away. “Really? I could go a year if it meant I could keep you locked away and naked.”
“Oh please.” She brings her glass up and swallows a delicious sip that has her humming to the same rhythm as the plane. “Sex is fun. Sex is great,” she adds with a breathy sigh. “But we need our minds stimulated as well. Two days of fucking, and even you’ll be ready to venture into the outside world.”
