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She said around chews, “You clean up nicely.”
“I was thinking the same about you.” He ran a hand through his wet hair. “Hard to believe you were crawling through an underground tunnel about six hours ago.”
“Hard to believe we made it out alive.” She wiped her hands with a paper towel and then rolled up her apple core in it.
He dug into his bag and pulled out a clean pair of boxers. He put them on beneath his towel and then dropped the towel.
Half closing her eyes, she tossed back some wine. “Damn, I was looking forward to the striptease with the towel coming off.”
“How many of those glasses have you had?” He sat down next to her on the bed and curled his hand around the neck of the wine bottle, lifting it up to the light.
“Enough.” She yawned and fell over on her side, dragging a pillow beneath her cheek.
He smiled and stroked a length of creamy thigh that was exposed as his T-shirt hiked up around her hips. “Can I tempt you with a toothbrush and some toothpaste?”
“Absolutely.” She shot up, the thought of brushing her teeth giving her new life. She tumbled from the bed, yanking the T-shirt down around her thighs.
Mike finished off the bread and cheese and had started on another glass of wine by the time Claire stumbled back into the bedroom.
“Ah, such a simple amenity can make all the difference in the world.” Running her tongue along her teeth, she fell across the bed. “Did I leave you enough food and drink?”
“Plenty. Are you ready to go back into the fray tomorrow?”
She cocked her head. “By fray do you mean go to Spencer’s office and try to pump Fiona for information?”
“Exactly.”
“It feels dangerous being back here.” She folded her arms behind her head. “Back in the vicinity of the political world, close to the White House. What do you think Tempest is going to do?”
“Not sure, but I plan to be in the thick of it to stop them.”
“It’s important to you, isn’t it? I mean, it’s important to everyone, but it’s personal with you. What happened on your last assignment?”
He choked on the smooth sip of wine trailing down his throat. Even slightly tipsy, she could read him. “Who says anything happened on my last assignment?”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Mike, but it’s so clear that things didn’t end well for you. This White House plot fell into your lap, a way to redeem yourself.”
“No wonder you had Spencer Correll figured out. You’re one perceptive lady.”
When it didn’t involve her own motives.
“I just understand that drive to prove yourself.”
He tossed back the rest of the wine in one gulp. “Okay, my previous assignment didn’t have the ending I wanted. We lost hostages. I’d never lost hostages before.”
“It happens.” She stared past him into the space over her shoulder. “Those situations are chaotic and dangerous. I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.”
“I was leading the charge, so to speak.”
“Nobody else blamed you, did they? Jack didn’t blame you.”
“I blamed me.” He pushed off the bed and collected the dishes. “Do you want anything else from downstairs? Water?”
“Yes, water, please.” She waved her hand up and down his body. “Are you venturing out in your boxers? You might give Mrs. Curtis a fright...or the thrill of a lifetime.”
His lips twisted. “I suppose I’d better pull on some sweats.”
“Chicken.”
He left the wine and took everything back downstairs. Again, silence greeted his presence. He stayed in the kitchen for several minutes, throwing away their trash and washing the plate and glasses.
By the time he crept upstairs with a couple of bottles of water tucked beneath his arm, Claire was curled up on the bed, her hand beneath her cheek and her damp hair fanning out on the pillow.
Any thoughts he’d had of making wild, passionate love to her ended on a sigh from her lips.
He drowned his disappointment by gulping down the rest of the wine straight from the bottle—the only way to drink the good stuff.
He then brushed his own teeth and killed the lights in the room. Tugging on the covers, he nudged Claire’s body aside and then pulled the covers over her, tucking them beneath her chin.
