Page 185 of Savage Hearts
I smile. “Bath time.”
I hear the smile in his voice when he replies. “I found it interesting that the heroine in your book took a lot of baths also. Strange thing for a ghost to do.”
The thought of him in the cabin reading through my yellow legal pads while we were apart makes my heart sing. “That was in her memory. From before she died.”
He says thoughtfully, “That’s right, she didn’t know she was dead.”
“Judging by your tone, I feel like I might need to make some revisions.”
He slides his open palm up my back and cups my chin, tilting my head up for a kiss. He whispers, “No. It’s perfect. Except that man she was in love with when she was alive sounds like a gorilla.”
“He’s not a gorilla! He’s macho!”
He looks at me pointedly. “Please tell me you didn’t base his character on anyone you know.”
My smile is sweet. “I would never. That’s probably illegal, anyway.”
“What’s illegal is the size of his dick. I bet that’s how she died, right? Punctured lungs?”
“Okay, you know what? You’re not reading any more of my works in progress.”
He presses his lips together. I can tell he’s trying not to laugh at me.
I poke him in the ribs and tuck my head under his chin, sighing.
When he speaks again, his voice has turned serious. “It’s going to be dangerous.”
His life, he means. As if I didn’t already know it.
“If you can break in undetected to safe houses all over the world surrounded by armed guards and crash a mobster wedding, you can keep me protected. I trust you. Plus, look on the bright side. I know how to shoot guns!”
“But with a baby—”
“Mal,” I say in a warning tone. “Tread carefully. I don’t want to hear any more nonsense out of you about us not being together because it’s too dangerous. That subject is closed.”
He chuckles. “And you say I’m bossy.”
“Look, I know the Thirteen isn’t a bachelor party, okay? Those guys have wives and girlfriends and manage to keep them breathing. So can you.”
After a short silence, he says, “Who told you about the Thirteen?”
“Declan.”
He rolls me onto my back and stares down at me. His voice is deadly soft. “Did you just say another man’s name in my bed?”
Oh, shit. Commence backpedaling.“Um. You sort of asked. And unless you own this hotel, technically this isn’t your bed.”
He growls, “Nice try, baby. I do own this hotel.”
“What?”
“I own a lot of real estate all over the world. Pakhan compensated me very well for what I did for him.”
“Not well enough to hire an interior decorator, obviously.”
“Excuse me?”
“That apartment of yours in Moscow isn’t what you’d call cozy, sweetie. I think skeletons would like it, but for people with flesh, it’s a little cold.”
