Page 45 of Midnight at the Magnolia

“You know,” I say, leaning forward and letting my fingertips brush against his hand, “for all the time we’ve spent together, I feel like I barely know you, Agent Blake.”

Ethan’s eyes lock with mine, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Is that your way of saying you want to know more about me, Ms. Deveraux?”

I laugh, the sound surprisingly genuine. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just trying to distract you from work talk.”

“Well,” he says, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone that sends shivers down my spine, “what would you like to know?”

I pretend to consider, tapping my finger against my lips. “Let’s start easy. What’s your favorite color?”

Ethan chuckles, the sound rich and warm. “Really? That’s your burning question?”

“Hey, you gotta start somewhere,” I tease, nudging his foot under the table with mine.

“Alright, alright,” he concedes, his eyes twinkling. “It’s green. Dark green, like the bayou at twilight.”

The intensity of his gaze as he says this makes my breath catch. “Good choice,” I manage. “Very... evocative.”

“Your turn,” he says, leaning closer. “What’s your favorite smell?”

I close my eyes, inhaling deeply. “Jasmine on a warm night,” I say softly. “It reminds me of home.”

When I open my eyes, Ethan is watching me with a look that makes my heart race. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, and I’m not sure if he’s talking about the answer or me.

“Okay, hot shot,” I say, trying to lighten the mood before I drown in those eyes. “What’s your guilty pleasure?”

Ethan leans back, running a hand through his hair. “Promise not to laugh?”

I make a cross over my heart, biting back a smile.

“I... I’m addicted to cheesy 80s power ballads,” he admits, a slight blush coloring his cheeks.

I can’t help it—I burst out laughing. “Oh my God, I can totally picture you belting outTotal Eclipse of the Heartin the shower!”

“Hey, you promised not to laugh!” Ethan protests, but he’s grinning too.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I gasp, wiping tears from my eyes. “It’s just... not what I expected from a tough FBI agent.”

“Oh yeah?” he challenges, his eyes glinting mischievously. “And what’s your guilty pleasure, Ms. Deveraux?”

I lean in close, my lips nearly brushing his ear. “Trashy romance novels,” I whisper. “The kind with Fabio on the cover.”

Ethan pulls back, his eyebrows raised. “Now that, I would pay to see. Celeste Deveraux, cool as ice, reading a bodice-ripper.”

“What can I say?” I shrug, feigning nonchalance even as my pulse quickens at our proximity. “I contain multitudes.”

“That you do,” Ethan murmurs, his gaze intense. “So, what’s your biggest fear?”

The question catches me off guard, and for a moment, I’m tempted to tell him the truth—that I’m terrified of being discovered, of losing everything I’ve worked for. Instead, I say, “Snakes. Can’t stand ‘em.”

Ethan nods sympathetically. “Living in Louisiana must be tough then.”

“You have no idea,” I say, grateful for the out. “Your turn. What scares the big, bad FBI agent?”

He’s quiet for a moment, and when he speaks, his voice is soft. “Failing. Letting people down when they need me most.”

The vulnerability in his admission tugs at my heart. I reach out, covering his hand with mine. “Ethan,” I say gently, “from what I’ve seen, you could never let anyone down.”

His fingers intertwine with mine, the touch sending sparks dancing across my skin. “Thanks, Celeste,” he says, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. “That means a lot, coming from you.”

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