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“I didn’t,” she says. “Not exactly. I didn’t tell her who I was with, either.” She motions toward where her cell sits on the edge of the table. “And I edited my settings so she can’t send my brother after me with his ‘track my friends’ app. No one will find your secret hideout, I promise.” She sighs as she stabs another bite of pot pie. “I just didn’t have anyone else to ask. I have successfully seductive girlfriends, of course, but I didn’t want to bother them on Thanksgiving.” She frowns. “What about you? Aren’t the McGuires concerned that you missed Thanksgiving dinner?”
I shake my head. “I told them something came up and dropped the cupcakes off early this morning.”
Nora hums beneath her breath. “How’d your parents take that? I didn’t think McGuires were allowed to miss family holiday celebrations.”
“It was fine. I told them I had to help a friend.”
She arches a brow.
“It wasn’t a lie. Clyde is a friend, and I’m helping him.”
She purses her lips, clearly dubious, but she keeps her peace.
I grunt and skewer the last of my green beans, chewing and swallowing in the strained silence that follows. Finally, I can’t resist asking, “So?”
She looks up. “So what?”
“So…what did she say? Your gram.”
Pushing her nearly empty plate away, Nora says. “Scoot your chair back.”
My eyes narrow on hers. “Why?”
“Just do it. I won’t hurt you. I promise. It’ll just be easier this way.” When I’ve grudgingly pushed my chair away from the table, she reaches for her wine. “Okay. Here it is. Are you ready? This is Gram’s recipe for a foolproof seduction. First, I’m going to finish this glass of wine.”
She swallows the second half of the ruby red liquid in three slow, sexy gulps, her throat working in a way that makes the air in the room suddenly feel too warm. She sets the glass down, her tongue sweeping out to catch a bead of wine left on her lips, triggering a reaction below my belt that isn’t wise.
It’s especially unwise considering the next thing she does is stand and sway her curvy backside from her chair directly into my lap.
She loops her arms around my neck and whispers in a slightly tipsy voice, “This is it. Gram’s plan. I should have a glass of wine, get a little loose, and sit in your lap. Apparently, in the olden days, this was all it took to get a guy irrationally hot and bothered. But that was before every man had free, on-demand porn in the palm of his hand. ‘Twas a simpler time.”
“I don’t watch porn,” I say, unable to resist slipping my hand around her hip.
Her lips part. “Why not?”
“None of those women are having a good time. I can tell.” I curve my free hand around her thigh, just above her knee. “And if the woman you’re supposed to be fantasizing about is faking it, what’s the point?”
“You don’t like fake things,” she says, her head tipping closer.
“No, I don’t.”
“How about temporary things?” she asks, the tip of her nose brushing mine, even that relatively tame contact enough to transform my semi into a full-fledged hard-on.
A hard-on she’s going to feel if she shifts even an inch to her right…
“I know we probably don’t have a future, but we could have right now.” Her hand smooths up my waist to my chest, resting over my pounding heart. “We could have tonight and tomorrow and memories to keep us warm through the long, cold winter.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I whisper, my voice strained with the effort it’s taking not to drag her lips to mine.
“I don’t want to hurt you, either,” she says. “So, let’s…not hurt each other. Let’s just make each other feel good for however long we have before you leave, and then go our separate ways.”
She’s a master negotiator. Either that, or my cock has simply siphoned too much blood away from my brain for me to think clearly. I almost forget all the other reasons—aside from my impending departure—that hooking up with Nora would be a bad idea.
I’m about to carry her into the bedroom and prove to her just how absolutely straight and Nora-obsessed I am, when my pager goes off.
My pager, the one that only beeps when my handler urgently needs to get in touch with me.
My handler at the CIA…
