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“Tell him we’ll meet him for breakfast.”
She put her phone on Speaker again and called her brother.
When he answered, he shouted across the line over raucous background noise. “Ava? What is this number, anyway? Not your usual.”
“Never mind. I’m here at the Snow Haven Lodge and Resort. Do you want to come by here for breakfast tomorrow morning? Ten? I know you’re not an early riser.”
A shrill whistle pierced through the noise. “The Snow Haven Lodge and Resort? Dr. Arnoff must be paying you well.”
“Can you get over here at ten?”
“I’ll be there. Enjoy your fancy digs.”
She pushed up from the love seat and plugged her phone into the charger. Then she placed her wineglass on the mantel and fiddled with the switch on the side of the fireplace.
“I think that ignites the pilot.” He strode to the fireplace and picked up a box of long matches. “Turn it to the right, and I’ll light the fire.”
A little blue flame flickered beneath the logs and he struck a match and lit the kindling. The blaze raced along the log and then shot up into an orange fire.
“I like that.” He grabbed his can and sat on the floor before the fire, leaning against the love seat Ava had just vacated and resting his forearms on his bent knees.
She took a sip of her wine and gazed into the fire. “This feels good—almost normal.”
“Have a seat.” He patted the cushion behind him.
Cupping the bowl of her glass with one hand, she took a few steps toward the love seat and lowered herself to the edge.
The soft denim of the jeans encasing her legs brushed his arm. She stretched her feet out to the fire and wiggled her polished toes.
“How’s the wine?”
“It’s good. It’s been a while since I’ve had a drink, too, except those few sips with Lillian Arnoff.” She swirled the wine in her glass and took a gulp. “I can feel it sort of meandering through my veins, relaxing each muscle set as it warms it.”
He twisted his head around to look at her. “Are you tipsy already?”
A slow smile curved her lips, which looked as red as the wine in her glass. “I don’t think so, but I sure feel relaxed.”
“Good. You’ve had a rough few days.”
She sat forward suddenly, her hand dropping to his shoulder. “No, you’ve had a rough few days—a rough few months and maybe even a rough few years.”
Tears gleamed in her green eyes. Maybe that wine hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
He patted her hand. “I’m okay, Ava.”
She slid off the love seat and joined him on the floor, stretching her legs out next to his. “What are you going to do once you get the antidote?”
“If I get the antidote, I’m going to try to reach out to the other agents. Tempest will have a tough time carrying out its plans without its mind-controlled agents doing the dirty work.”
“Once we have the proof for the CIA or even Prospero, those agencies can take care of Tempest. You don’t have to be a one-man show anymore.” She yawned, and her head dropped to his shoulder.
“I’m not a one-man show.” He snaked his arm around her shoulders. “I have you.”
“Mmm.” She snuggled against him. “Pill. Don’t forget your pill.”
Ava’s breathing deepened, and Max let out a pent-up breath. Her exhaustion just saved him from battling his attraction to her. The suite, the view, the fireplace had all made him forget for just a minute who and what he was.
He disentangled his arm from Ava’s shoulders. She stirred. He swept her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. He dipped and stripped back the covers on the bed with one hand. Then he placed her on the cool sheet and tucked the other sheet and the blanket around her chin.
She murmured, “Max?”
“Shh. Go to sleep.”
He fished the breath-mint tin from his pocket and plucked out one of the blue pills. He swallowed the pill with the rest of his soda and then stretched out on the couch by the window.
He’d just protected himself and Ava from another one of his spells, but if Ava couldn’t cook up that antidote he’d have to take more drastic measures to protect her.
