Page 71 of Truth, Lies, and Second Dates
Hindsight: always a bitch.
Thirty-Seven
“Just a heads-up, I’m not going to bang you tonight.”
“I’ll update my schedule accordingly.”
“I know there’s a stereotype about pilots having a girl and/or guy in every port, but I’ve never had girls in any port, and only seven guys. Wait… six. And I haven’t seen two of them in over a year.”
“You cannot scare me off with your sex statistics.”
“Who’s trying to scare you off? Also, I’ve just decided thatSex Statisticsis going to be the title of my autobiography.”
He laughed, then gasped as his hip banged into the side of the check-in desk and he almost went sprawling. She had to plant her feet to keep him from dragging her down as well.
“Luckily for you, I’ve decided your rampant klutziness is endearing.”
“I haveseveralthings to keep track of,” he said with faux haughtiness. “Where parts of my body are in relation to random large objects is not high on my list.”
“I like that you’re embracing it, too.”
He had insisted on walking her home, which in this casemeant walking her to the nearest T station and taking the Blue Line to Airport Station, then walking her to her hotel.
“I don’t have anyone in any port,” he confided as they stepped into the elevator. “I trust that isn’t a mark against me.”
“Nope. Just the opposite.”Argh, cards!Was no one allowed to use an elevator without jamming a card somewhere? And it couldn’t be a random credit card. (She’d tried.) Had to be the room’s key card. Not to pull aPretty Woman(for any number of reasons), but she liked keys better.
Once they were off the elevator, she fumbled for five or six hundred hours until the thing was plucked from her fingers by more nimble fingers (nimbler fingers?), inserted, green light, click, in. “Show-off.”
“Mmmm… no. This is not a rare skill set.”
“Speaking of skill sets, you’re a first-rate kisser.”
“Where am I on your list of six? That’s rhetorical,” he added, as if worried she had a ranking system and was about to show him graphs she’d made to chart his abilities or the lack thereof.
“Right now, you’re number one on a list of one: people I really, really need to kiss right now.” The door swung closed behind him and he was on her at once, his mouth slanting over hers, his left hand gently cupping the back of her neck. His right arm went firmly around her waist as he pressed her against him, and he shivered a little when her tongue gently sought his. This went on for five seconds. Or years. Who cared? What, she was a referee who had to keep an eye on the clock?
He sighed, pulled back, went in for another kiss, this one more chaste, then pulled back again, his dark eyes filling her world for those few seconds. “When can I see you again?”
“In what capacity? Are we talking about more murderresearch? Because I’m okay with that. But if we’re talking about… what? A one-night stand? A series of one-night stands? Dating? Friends with benefits? I know I blew you off the night we met, but a lot’s happened since then and…” He’d leaned in again and was nuzzling her neck, which made everything (heh) harder. “Erm. What were we talking about?”
“Whether I would see you in your self-appointed capacity as my murder clerk—”
“Oh my God. Never refer to me like that again. It’s co–murder clerk or nothing.”
“—or my self-appointed bodyguard, or in the profoundly to-be-hoped-for capacity of a couple exploring social interactions to hopefully embark on a relationship.” He’d been gently backing her into the room until she could feel the bed just behind her. “It’s both, I hope. But if I had to choose one, I would choose the latter.”
“Aw, you’re sweet. I’m not being sarcastic, by the way—that’s really nice.”I don’t share that exact sentiment just now, but it’s still sweet.“As it happens, I’m on board for most of it, too. But… we don’t know each other very well. Are you sure you want—it’s just, long-distance relationships are tricky.”Careful. Don’t get ahead of yourself.“Not—not that we’re in one. I meant in general. Y’know, statistically speaking, long-distance relationships are tricky. I’m sure there’s a study somewhere that’s gonna back me up.”
He grinned and shook his head. “I cannot understand why you’re single.”
“Well, I’m grumpy, I like having my own way, I used to gobble down sleeping pills like Tic Tacs, I hate my home state, I use humor and sarcasm to hide, and the miasma of death follows me around.”
“Nonsense.”
“Yeah, that last one was just dumb. You have to put up with way more death miasma than I do.”
He laughed. “You’re charming, intelligent, lovely to look at and listen to—”
