Page 10 of Polestar
Ortega gave Burns a thumbs up as she rubbed a stitch in her side.
Magnus sighed.“How long have they been there?”
“Couple hours.Ortega’s room is in the east wing across from mine.”
A couple of hours?Not good.Not surprising, but not good.
He grunted, retrieved the bags, and resumed his quest to deposit Ortega in her room and get on with the investigation they’d gathered for.
“I can do that,” Ortega called after him.“I told him I can carry my own luggage.”He heard her say to Burns.
Burns snorted.“There’s no elevator in this place.Hey Magnus, she has a sweet face but don’t let her touch you with her woo-woo hands or she’ll steal all your secrets.”
“My woo-woo—” Ortega huffed.“Funny.”
The clicking heels also resumed behind Magnus, catching up to him shortly after rounding the corner and thankfully turned to dull, rapid thuds when he cut through the study for the service stairs.
Finally, he deposited her bags outside the room Burns had mentioned.
“This place is incredible,” Ortega said, stopping next to her bags.
He gestured toward her door.
“Thank you,” she said, looking up at him.“Really.For getting me here and hauling my bags.”She stuck her hand out in front of his midsection.
The corner of his mouth twitched at the professional gesture after their lastinterestingtwenty-four hours together.
Burns’ words about woo-woo hands echoed back to him.Whatever that meant.Besides, the only secrets he had that she could steal from him were about his work, and she was already here for that.
Accepting the handshake, the firm effort she put into it surprised him.
“There is a house manager if you need anything.There are phones in the rooms, like in hotels.Since Kane and Maeda are still in a meeting, I’m sure you’ll have a bit of time before they send someone for you.”
She nodded, not making any effort to go into her room.
“Anything else?”
She bit her lip.“Just an apology.”She blew out her breath.“For being so rude last night—”
He lifted a hand to stop her words.“Forgotten.See you around.”
He spun away as she drew breath to say something else, and walked away before she could.At the end of the corridor, he opened the door to his own room.Glancing back, he noted Ortega was struggling with the second of her two suitcases.
And Perenga wanted to send this woman to Iceland?The man was losing his faculties after gods only knew how many centuries he’d spent in this planet’s oceans.If Ortega could be afflicted with hypothermia from a rainstorm, she’d never survive actual cold weather.
Or maybe they’d redirected the plane here because Perenga realized how much of a mistake sending that woman into the frigid landscape would be.
He shrugged, pulled his shirt off, balled it up and threw it into a hamper as he strode toward his shower.
Not my problem.
I did my job.Now she’s Perenga and Burns’ problem.
As he stepped under the steaming water, he couldn’t help but recall the sensation of her vulnerable body balled up on his lap, shivering in his arms.Her silky-smooth skin smelled of California sunshine, vanilla coconut, and a scent that was uniquely hers.
He blinked away that wreck of a thought-train, snatched the soap from the shelf and began lathering.
She’s not my type, anyway.
