Page 50 of Sirens
After he tapped back his reply,his thumb hovered over the send button, cautioning him with all the rational reasons this could wait until tomorrow.
Until daylight.
Until he wasn’t so hungry.
Fuck it.
Trent rose, stretching out the kinks that had formed from hours of poring over documents. His heart did a little shuffle at the thought of seeing her. With a self-deprecating chuckle, he grabbed an expensive bottle of wine off the rack—an indulgence he justified as “politeness” rather than an excuse to impress.
Trent’s fingers brushed over the tailored seams of his jacket as he slipped it on, checking his reflection briefly.
He looked too…something.
Thirsty,his conscience whispered.
“Fuck off,” he told his reflection before grabbing his wallet and keys. “And behave.”
The night air wrapped around him like a cool whisper as he locked his front door and made his way to Maggie’s place. Townsend Harbor hummed quietly around him, tucked in by eight thirty p.m. on a school night. It was the kind of town where secrets were currency, and Maggie was hellbent on mining every last one.
What was he worried about… He didn’t even have secrets to uncover.
It wasn’t a date; it was business. Sort of. But as he climbed the steps, Trent did his best to ignore the electric current of anticipation that danced along his spine. Maggie had that effect—like a live wire hidden in velvet.
He knocked, practicing his most professional smile. But who was he kidding? Every time he saw her, with those fiery curls and curves that could make a preacher curse, he discovered himself wading chest-deep in lust. He was a man of carefully curated control, of finely tuned desires neatly kept in check and applied with practice and skill, yet Maggie Michaels had a way of making himwishfor chaos.
Appreciate it, even.
A riot of color, heat, and stimuli assaulted him as the rush of her apartment door opening caressed him with the fragrance of something savory mixed with her own alluring scent.
The mystery herself was wrapped in a bespoke trench coat that hugged her like a second skin. Her grin was Cheshire cat-worthy as she beckoned Trent inside with a flick of her wrist.
“Oh good, you came,” she said, the mischievous sparkle in her eyes doing funny things to his insides.
Not yet.Trent stepped over the threshold, his gaze drawn inexorably to the sinfully red soles of her three-inch-heels. “You’re dressed for going out in that coat and Louboutins,” he said, nodding at her feet.
“Or am I dressed for you coming inside?” She tossed back her curls and sashayed to the kitchen, the click-clack of her steps an extravagant melody.
Fuck.He loved shapely calves in heels.
Trent swallowed a rush of moisture as the smorgasbord of sights, scents, and sounds overwhelmed him with their delightful racket.
“Make yourself at home,” she called over her shoulder, already busy clinking glasses and bottles together. “Throw your jacket wherever.”
As he looked around, his eyes landed on the spotless surfaces and polished floors. There was a faint smell of lemon in the air, and he couldn’t help but notice that everything had been meticulously cleaned and organized. He felt a pang of guilt, knowing she had gone through all this effort for him.
“Thanks, I’ll just—” Trent moved to stow his jacket, but Maggie’s voice cut through as his fingers grazed the coat closet handle.
“Wait, not that one!” There was a hint of panic in her tone that made immediate sense when an avalanche of fabric and fluffbarreled out, burying his shoes in the domestic detritus of coats and linens.
“What the—?” He hopped out of the way of the leaningtowelsof Pisa as they toppled into a final pile of carnage at his feet.
“Oops.” Her cheeks flamed a shade redder than her hair as she glanced from the pile to Trent’s amused expression. “Guess I really need to do some spring cleaning.”
“Didn’t youjustget here?” He laughed.
“Yeah, but my textile needs are vast and varied.” She shrugged. “Shove all that back in there, will you? I’ll make the drinks.”
Trent chuckled. “Wouldn’t it be better for everyone involved ifImake the drinks?” he suggested hopefully. “Then maybe you can find space in the closet for the coat you’re wearing.”
