Page 22 of Wrecked With You

“I’m impressed anyone can let a case go, cold or not. God knows I’ve never been able to.”

“Exactly.” She leaned over and closed her hand on his thigh as she looked into his eyes with sincere appreciation. “That was my point to him. He thinks it needs to go away. I’m all for chasing it.”

“I don’t blame you.”

She leaned back a bit, but her hand stayed steady on his thigh. It was warm, and he was hyperaware of the connection between them. Hand. Eyes. And something more. Something intangible.

He had the sense that she was making her mind up about something, but when she spoke, all she said was, “We’re a lot alike. You’ve been chasing The Serpent forever. I’ve been working this case for what feels like my whole life.”

“It’s personal to you.” It wasn’t a question.

She nodded. “As I said—we’re a lot alike.”

For a moment, she stayed like that. Her touch gentle, her eyes mischievous, and he let his mind roam through all the things that one could do in a limo. Guilt-free roaming, too. After all, he’d be doing some of those things on the island soon enough.

“Emma—”

“Am I your girlfriend or your whore?”

“Excuse me?” She was still looking at his face, still leaning forward, and his mind was so muddled that he legitimately didn’t understand the question. “What are you talking about?”

She sat back, breaking the contact. He drew a breath and felt oxygen return to his brain.

“On the island. Are we a couple that picked Debauchery as our vacation destination? Or are you a guy who wanted a wild time, so you paid a girl to join you?”

“Does it matter?”

“It might,” she said. “At the very least, we need to have our story straight.”

“All right. You decide.”

She grinned. “Yeah? In that case you’re paying me five-thousand a day to accompany you.”

“Nice to know I have that kind of cash. Why not be my devoted girlfriend?” He had a few ideas about her reasoning—and the truth was, now that she’d raised the question, he would have come down on the side of professional escort as well. It would be interesting to see how similar their rationales were.

“First, we don’t know each other that well, and while on any other resort we could fake it with a contrived background story, this place has the potential to get strangely intimate. Better to stick closer to the truth.”

“The truth being that we barely know each other.”

“Exactly.” She finished her mimosa in two long swallows, then held it out for a refill. He topped his off at the same time. He was feeling a buzz—he hadn’t bothered with breakfast that morning—but a few hours of sleep on the plane would fix him up.

“Go on.”

“Even as wild as these places are, it makes more sense for you to go off with another woman if I’m not your girlfriend or your wife. And you might have to do that with The-Asst.”

“Also what I was thinking.” Though he hoped not. He’d do what was necessary for the mission, of course. But the only woman he actually wanted to enjoy the resort with was Emma.

It was an interesting realization. The truth was, Tony couldn’t think of the last time he’d been seriously attracted to a woman. Sure, he’d met a few here and there who ended up in his bed. But Emma was the first one he actively wanted to be there for more than just lust or boredom. Not that there wasn’t some lust involved. Mostly it was fascination. She’d caught his attention when she’d accompanied Quince onto the tennis court. And she’d gotten under his skin the moment she told off Damien Stark.

There was something about her. A vibrancy. A competence. He wanted to touch it. To hold it. To possess it. So, yeah. He wanted her in bed.

He’d been enjoying the delusion that she wanted him, too. But now that she was mentioning the possibility that he’d leave her to go off with his contact, he had to wonder if he’d misread her entirely.

“Is that what you’re hoping?” As soon as the question was out, he wanted to call it back. He sounded like a needy teenager, and he had only the alcohol and his libido to blame.

“What? That you’ll leave me to soak up rays in a lounge chair while you go fuck all of this informant’s secrets out of her? No, Tony, that’s not what I want.”

He noticed the use of his nickname, but didn’t correct her. He liked the way it sounded. He also liked her answer.