Page 23 of Art of the Hunt
“Seattle,” she clarified. “But I’m staying at the Langham.”
Of course she was. One of the nicest, swankiest, most expensive hotels in Chicago. Addnot in the same socioeconomic classto the myriad reasons he should not ask this woman out.
Oh, and she was from out of town, which meant she was going to leave again at some point.
“How long are you staying in Chicago?” he asked.
“Not sure yet.”
“Are you here for business?”
“You could say that.”
Okay, now things were officially awkward, and he was pretty sure it was all his fault. He cleared his throat. “Listen, I’m sorry for thinking the worst about this situation.”
“Apology accepted.”
He scratched his temple. “Uh, so you’re good? You just heading back to your hotel?”
“Apparently.” She glanced down at her shirt, which was still splattered with blood from when she’d helped birth that baby earlier.
“You didn’t change.”
“That was my intention when all this happened.” She waved vaguely, referring to the bar, he presumed.
“Do you…do you want to go back to your hotel to do that? I could meet you there. I’m pretty much done for the day, unless I get a call about picking up a new case. We can…” Christ, when was the last time he’d been so tongue-tied?
“Normally, I’d guess you were about to ask me if I wanted to get a drink, but since it’s you, I’m not really sure where you’re going with that statement.”
He chuckled and felt his cheeks warm. “That’s exactly what I was trying to do, actually. But I’m obviously out of practice.”
“Which goes back to what I said earlier about—”
He lifted his hand, cutting her off. “Let’s not talk about my sex life, okay? Or, more accurately, the lack thereof.”
She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
“So, that drink. Do you want to meet at the hotel bar?” He’d have to drain his savings account for a single drink in that place, but he couldn’t take back the suggestion now.
“How about we go somewhere else?”
Music to his ears. “You have someplace in mind?”
“You’re the one who lives here.”
He smiled. “Tell you what, how about you follow me to the station to drop off my car, and then we’ll head to your hotel together so you can change clothes.”
She canted her head. “Is this because you are hoping to spend the night in my hotel room and therefore break your no-sex streak?”
“Would you stop with my sex life already? If you want the truth, I don’t want to pay for parking if I can avoid it. Plus, I wouldn’t mind another ride on your bike. Not to mention, your hotel wouldn’t let me in if I pulled up in my government-issue piece of shit.”
“Dressing as if you live in the current decade could help with that problem.”
He smirked. “Do you want to go or not?”
When they reached the police station, he bolted inside, rushed down to the locker rooms, and changed into the sky-blue polo shirt he kept there because he knew damn well he was a sloppy dresser. He also knew there were inevitably times when it was important to look a little less…homeless.
This was probably one of those times.
