Page 86 of GAF Factor

“Peanuts? I don’t remember—” I snapped my mouth shut as I vaguely remembered Jane telling the concierge that we were going to need peanuts. I had stupidly thought they would bring us a can of peanuts, but no. They brought us peanuts in the shells.

I fell forward on the bed, burying my face in the covers. “Oh no. No, this is so bad.” I sat up and turned to face him. “How bad was it?”

“Don’t worry about it. We need to get some food in you and get on the road.”

“Right, the whole murder thing.” I winced as I moved to the edge of the bed. The thought of traveling anywhere right now made my stomach churn, but I only had myself to blame.

“Go take a shower and we’ll grab breakfast.”

“Right.” I pushed off the bed, wobbling when my knees almost gave out. Luckily, IKE was there to catch me before I collapsed. “Thanks. Do you want to join me?”

“Not this morning,” he answered, turning away. Was it my imagination or was he mad at me? There was something different this morning—almost like a distance between us. Was it because I had been drinking? Was he mad at me for that?

I wouldn’t blame him if he was. We were here to do a job and I was slowing things down. The guys were probably pissed at us for throwing a wrench in their plans.

I showered as quickly as I could without falling over. The cool water helped to wake me up and get rid of the nausea, but did nothing for my head. By the time I got out, I could at least stand on my own two feet without falling over.

I wrapped the towel around my body and tucked it between my breasts, remembering how just last night, IKE had me pressed up against the wall, touching me everywhere. I clenched my thighs together, chastising myself for thinking about sex when we were supposed to be hunting my killer ex-husband.

“Priorities,” I muttered as I pulled open the door.

“What’s that?” IKE asked.

“Uh…nothing. I was just reminding myself about my priorities.”

He was already dressed, looking perfectly handsome in yet another dark suit with a vest and tie. Did the man ever wear anything else? “Where did you get that?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because you didn’t bring much with you.”

He grinned as he buttoned the sleeve of his shirt. “I always have a spare suit.”

“Do you ever wear just…jeans?”

“Do you want me to wear jeans?”

“I’d like to know what you look like in them.”

“I would imagine I look the same as anyone else.”

Somehow, I highly doubted that.

“About last night…I’m really sorry for everything.”

He grabbed his jacket off the hangar, swinging it smoothly around his back and sliding one arm into the sleeve. “And why would you be sorry?”

“For messing everything up. I know we’re just causing problems.”

“You aren’t the problem,” he mumbled, his eyes on the ground.

What was that supposed to mean? “Well, anyway, I’m sorry.”

“Get dressed,” he said curtly. “We need to talk.”

He wouldn’t look at me. Just two minutes ago, he was smiling and joking with me, and now he was avoiding my gaze. What the hell had gone wrong? I pulled out my luggage and quickly dressed, not looking nearly as fancy as him in my jeans and comfy sweater. But dammit, it was cold, and I would take warmth over cold any day of the week.

I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on my socks. “So, what do you want to talk about?”

---