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“No,” Damen calmly said. “If I had my druthers, I would have blindfolded you so that you didn’t even know what hotel we were staying at. So you couldn’t text the info to the McMillans. But, that would mean cutting off your visual of the laptop in my bag, soo… I’m going to assume you’ll take this as a good-faith gesture and not impart any information that might help to lead anyone to us—”
“Fuck,” she murmured.
“What?” he asked, a thread of consternation ribboning through him.
Holding up her phone, she said, “I never turned off the location feature. I’m practically GPS’d.”
9
“Don’t worry about it,” Damen said. “We’ll take care of it. Just…turn your phone off, please.”
She slid a paranoid look his way. “You’re not taking this from me, too, are you?”
He fought a glower. “No. All I want is the data on your computer.”
They reached their floor and everyone stepped out. Damen led her to the corner unit. “The rest of the floor has been vacated.”
“Then what are all these people doing here?” She gestured toward the half-dozen or so suits milling about.
“They’re with me. Security detail.” He accepted an electronic keycard and let Nikki into the suite, along with himself. No one else followed. He shut the door and crossed to the wall of windows that showcased the New York skyline. Pulled the drapes closed. Then he set the laptop bag on the desk in the corner and unloaded the computer. He opened the lid and checked the progress.
“Please tell me it’s almost done.”
“I have no idea,” he informed her. “There’s no status bar…and I’m not touching anything.” He gave her a pointed look.
“I appreciate that,” she contritely said.
“It’s not just for your benefit. I don’t want to inadvertently corrupt anything.”
&
nbsp; He didn’t bother to mention he wasn’t just talking about the data. He didn’t want anything skewing her files, either.
While she stood in the middle of the room, apparently trying to make heads or tails of what she was supposed to do next, he went to the wet bar, opened a bottle of scotch and poured two glasses.
He joined Nikki, handing her one.
She absently accepted the offering, her gaze still on her computer.
“I’ve made good on all of my promises thus far,” he reminded her.
“Yes. It’s just… I need a really relaxing bath right now.”
“I could use a shower, myself,” he muttered.
She shot him a sharp glare. “What the hell are we supposed to do about the laptop? I won’t let it out of my sight. You won’t let it out of yours…”
Damen raked a hand through his hair. “I suppose that means we’re sharing a bathroom.”
“What?!” She glared harder. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Do you have a better solution?” he challenged her. And around that challenge, he was certain his tone—and the steely expression on his face—further goaded her to accept that they were already lusting after each other. It wasn’t as though either of them could deny the lingering gazes, the heat that arced between them. So what the hell was the big deal about sharing an intimate space? Especially considering he knew the bathroom would be as large as this living room, so…
She huffed as she whirled around, scotch in one hand, suitcase handle in the other as she snatched it, and marched into the bathroom. Surprisingly not slamming the door behind her.
Damen groaned. It was entirely possible that cajoling Nikki was to his detriment.
He collected the computer and followed her. She’d already started running her bath, and had apparently ducked into the water closet. He set the laptop on the counter and stripped off his clothes, wrapping a towel around his waist. She emerged moments later, also with a towel wound around her body. She swept her gorgeous red hair into a loose knot above the nape of her very graceful neck.
