Chapter 9 #3
Rhett’s patience waned. “I’m special agent Rhett Callahan with the FBI.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his badge, flashing it over the desk. “I can assure you she is who she claims.”
The man’s shoulders inched toward his ears and his eyes widened.
“Is that sufficient?” Rhett said.
“Yes, of course.” The man nodded quickly. “Let me get you your new keys.” He ran two cards through a small machine and tucked them into an envelope, which he pushed across the desk. “Please let me know if I can be of any service.”
“Thank you.” Peyton grabbed the envelope, and they made their way down the hall to the elevators. She pressed the button and the doors coasted open. “Thanks for that. I was afraid he was going to ask for my shoe size and measure my foot.”
Rhett chuckled as she pressed the button for the eighteenth floor.
“It’s a good thing he didn’t see your flip-flops,” she said, clearly fighting off a grin.
“You’re just jealous because you have Mandy’s sensible sandals.”
“Mandy is definitely lacking your flare.”
He lifted his foot and turned it around. “If it weren’t for the itchy flower, they’d actually be comfortable.”
He was rewarded for his silly remark with a smile that reached her eyes.
A flutter erupted beneath his breastbone.
Tonight he’d witnessed every reaction from her: terror, fury, embarrassment, and even playfulness.
One night with her had been like speed-dating the same person—except there was no romantic intention involved. His equilibrium was shaken.
The elevator dinged and they entered the hall.
She led the way to her room and his eyes drifted up her back.
Her hair was wild around her head, as if she’d driven through a wind tunnel, and her hips swayed beneath the sweater that dusted the tops of her thighs.
He shoved his hands in his still-damp pockets.
“This is it.” She swiped the key through the card reader and bumped open the door with her hip. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Thanks for walking me to my room. You really didn’t have to.”
He shrugged. “I’ll sleep better knowing you made it okay.” He lowered his gaze. “How’s your leg?” His fingers itched to lift the corner of the sweater to take a look, but that would be a bad move.
She dropped her hand so it hovered over the area. “It hurts, but I peeked at it earlier and the bandage is holding.”
“Be sure to keep it clean. I can have another look if you like.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she gazed down at her feet and curled her toes. “It’s fine.”
He leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb and studied her pale cheeks.
Something was nagging at him. “Do you feel safe staying here?” The question blurted from his lips before he could stop it.
If she didn’t feel safe, she sure as hell wouldn’t tell him.
He wasn’t a genius, but criminals typically didn’t want FBI agents hanging around.
And, to be fair, he shouldn’t want to be hanging around her either—not unless he was looking for dirt.
Peyton’s crimes weren’t at the top of the bureau’s list of priorities, but stealing from California’s wealthy, albeit shady, individuals would land her in jail, and that was the last thing he wanted for her. Too bad she wanted it for herself.
The corner of her lip tucked in, and she toyed with the string on Eric’s jacket.
He stilled her hand, and she swung her attention to his face.
It bothered him that she was wearing Eric’s sweater over her naked body.
It should be his clothes on her, no one else’s.
Ah, crap. The last thing he needed was the image of her naked body in his head, and he sure as hell didn’t want to get territorial.
“Yes.” She coughed. “Well, no. I probably won’t feel safe for a while. But there’s no way he knows where I’m staying.”
He returned his hand to his pocket before he did something stupid like touch her again. “You’re sure about that?”
“I didn’t have ID on me when I was on his boat, and you got my phone for me, remember?”
He nodded and clamped his teeth together. Why did leaving her feel like ripping off a limb? He was getting soft. Sleep, food, and a hot shower would set his head on straight. He’d been in protector mode since laying eyes on her. Distance would induce clarity.
She stepped closer, and her round eyes glowed.
She lifted her palm and pressed it to the breast of his jacket.
“I’m fine, Rhett. Really. You’ve gone above and beyond as an agent and as a friend to Milo and Serena.
I’ll arrange a flight in the morning and be out of here no later than tomorrow afternoon.
” She rose onto the tips of her toes and brushed a kiss over his cheek.
The contact was quick, platonic. A kiss of gratitude.
Yet, the softness of her lips and the swell of her hip against his wrist stirred every erotic image in his brain.
“Take it easy.” Cracking a smile, she moved inside the room. Then she lifted her fingers in a delicate wriggle and shut the door, leaving his rock-hard cock to throb a delayed message to his brain: off-limits.