Page 18 of Mensa's Match

“It’s just sleeping,” Mensa said.

Oh sure.

I wandered to the counter and pulled my card from my back pocket. “We’ll take it.”

“You aren’t paying,” Mensa bit out, sidling up next to me at the counter.

“Then I should pay for your gas.”

While I stared up at him, our eyes locked, he snatched my card off the counter and put his down in its place.

Rose made a humming noise, then said, “I could split the charge—”

“No,” Mensa said, his tone final.

Rose ran his card, clacked her nails on the keyboard, and looked up at us. Her face paled.

“What? Is the room no longer available?” I asked.

She offered a wan smile. “It’s yours, but it’s a king.”

I turned wide eyes to Mensa. “It’s just sleeping.”

If I thought Mensa had a problem with me before, I was wrong. His disdain amplified the moment the hotel room door closed. He prowled the entire space looking for non-existent threats, and avoiding eye contact.

While he made a show of being disgruntled, I emptied one of the shopping bags.

“Did you buy the whole store?” he asked.

I tossed two packages of Skittles onto the credenza. “No, just the important stuff like toothpaste, toothbrushes, and wine.”

He laughed at my mention of wine. “Those Skittles are the opposite of toothpaste.”

I shot him a grin over my shoulder. “Wine and Skittles are a winning combination. You should try it.”

“Not tonight, I won’t. One of us should stay sober.”

With a thunk, I set the bottle of pinot grigio on the credenza. “That Corrupt Chrome asshole isn’t going to come hunting for us at a roadside hotel set back from the main drag behind a fast-food joint. Your bike could be any weekend warrior on a road trip, Mensa. I highly doubt he committed your license plate to memory.”

After a lengthy stare-down, he crossed to the small closet, opened the door, and pulled out an extra pillow along with a thick flannel blanket. “I’ll take the floor.”

A little voice told me to let him make his own choices, but my inner smart-ass couldn’t be contained. “What happened to ‘it’s only sleeping’? It’s not like I have cooties. But hey, if you want the floor, have at it, buddy.”

That earned me his cold stare and strange excitement shot through me.

“I’m finally coming down off that adrenaline high, and if I’m in the same bed as you, I’m gonna have an entirely different struggle on my hands. One I’m not sure I can best, so I’m doing you a favor here by taking the floor.”

The curious side of me wanted to help him with that struggle, but my more rational side held me back. Getting physical with Mensa – even one time – wouldn’t help my reputation. Even if I was done with the FBI, my reputation meant something to me. Deep down, I still wanted to figure out a way to arrest him… though, from everything I’d seen tonight, he wasn’t as bad as I’d thought.

“You have nothing to say?” he asked.

I shrugged and turned to him. “You can suit yourself, but there’s a shower in that bathroom that might help with your struggle. After that, won’t we just be… sleeping?”

He turned his head so sharply to the side, I worried he’d strained his neck. What more could he have to argue about?

Chapter 6

'That Woman'

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