Page 54 of Spying Under the Mistletoe
“That’s not bad, darling,” Josephine says. “If you want to go the more traditional route.”
“Or if you want to put those people in an early grave.” Henri shakes his head. “What you need are some selections to liven up the party.”
“Well, if Agatha York has her way, that won’t be a problem,” Chloe says. “Assuming she can sneak in the contraband rum for the egg nog.Andthe egg nog.”
“Ooh, I’m liking the sound of this party more and more,” Henri says. “You can sign me up for smuggling in the good stuff.”
By the time Chloe and I leave the mansion, the music arrangement has been finalized. Chloe plans to talk to Principal Woodnut in the morning to expedite the necessary volunteer clearance for Josephine and Andrew.
“Thank you so much,” Chloe says after she and I climb into my jeep. “The concert’s going to be amazing.”
She leans over and kisses my cheek. It’s an innocent kiss. Nothing more than a show of gratitude.
Too bad my body doesn’t quite see it the same way.
It buzzes with need and desire. Desire for her to do a shitload more than just kiss me like that.
She pulls away, but the whiff of her light floral perfume lingers, tormenting me further.
Whiskey’s sittingin his crate, looking all shades of hopeful when we walk into the laundry room.
“I’ll just take him outside,” I tell her. “We won’t be long.”
“I can start making dinner. Is there anything in particular you want?”
“I’m fine with whatever.” I need to get away from her sweet scent for a few minutes and regroup.
Rule #2 when it comes to missions: Never sleep with your target.
Unless it suits the purpose of the mission—like seducing vital information from the individual.
But Chloe isn’t technically my target. That honor goes solely to her cousin, Nikolai Orlov.
So when you look at it that way, there’s no reason for my need to take a minute.
Try, she’s not interested in you that way, dumbass.
I remove Whiskey’s leash from the key holder and open the crate door. I fasten it to his collar and carry him outside.
The ground shines from the streetlights in the lightly falling rain. The dropping temperature from the approaching storm helps cool me down a few degrees. Enough so I can return to the town house a little less turned-on than before.
I lower Whiskey to the grass and let him go about his business.
When I step inside the town house a short time later, the delicious smell of dinner greets me. Chloe is busy in the kitchen, her attention on whatever she’s cooking on the stove. And for a moment, I watch her swaying to the music from the speakers in the living room. She’s caught up in the rhythm, her body moving in a way that makes mine, once again, aware of her.
So much for regrouping while I was outside.
But it’s more than that. For a second, my brain entertains the thought of coming home every night to seeing her like that. In the kitchen. Making dinner. Looking incredibly sexy.
Wearing nothing more than my hockey jersey.
A need—one I’m not familiar with—stirs inside me.
Whoa, where the hell did that come from?
I push it away and walk over to join Chloe. “Whatever you’re cooking, it smells incredible.”
She smiles sweetly at me, causing the hunger for her to swell up like a hot-air balloon. “Thanks. Hopefully, it tastes as good as it smells.”
