Page 7 of The Treasure Hunt Hookup

“How do you mean?” Reeve pulls back enough to look at me, open and curious.

I blink. The truth is, my grandfather was a practical, sensible kind of guy. Steady. Solid. The opposite of my scatter-brained, creative mom. She married a man exactly like her, and somehow, they wound up with me: another by-the-book planner who doesn’t live with my head in the clouds so much as check the weather app every morning and pack a poncho in case of rain.

But does this man want to hear about my chaotic, hippie childhood, and how I had to cling to organization and logic to basically parent my own parents and make sure our electricity bill got paid?

Hell nope.

“Oh, my grandpa was a spy, too,” I reply lightly. “Old-school, Bond-style. Taught me everything I know about hidden microphones and mixing a good Martini.”

I catch a flash of what could almost be disappointment in Reeve’s eyes, but I’m sure I’m imagining it. After all, who wants boring old reality when we can keep this fantasy going a little longer?

“So who taught you to dance?” he asks with a smile – as I tread on his toes, yet again. “I thought you super spies were supposed to be nimble.”

“Hey!” I protest, laughing. “And I am. This is just my cover, I’mpretendingto be clumsy so we don’t draw attention with my all-star moves.”

“Smart.” Reeve smirks. “They would never guess to look at us.”

I smile, relaxing against him even more. The slow dance is barely a shuffle as Reeve steers us effortlessly around the floor; his hands steady on my body, his torso warm against mine. But despite our casual movements, my heart is pounding in my chest at his casual touch. It’s intoxicating.

Desire.

God, I didn’t even realize I’d been missing it, until it came roaring back the moment this man smiled at me. Now, the heat is building, sharp and urgent in my veins. It’s been forever since I wanted much of anything, and now I want to all: to press my mouth against his, to feel his lips on my skin and his hands on my body …

You could. You can …

There’s nothing stopping me, after all. And even less holding my Halloween alter-ego, Lola, back from a spontaneous sizzling tryst. We could get a room upstairs, I think wildly. Tear off our costumes, and spend the rest of the night getting sweaty, naked, and orgasmic.

Maybe even put that prop whip to good use …

But before I can even think about acting on my fevered fantasies, I catch sight of the security guard from earlier. He’s with a snooty-looking guest – and they’re headed straight in our direction.

Shit.

“You know how all of Indiana Jones’ skill and cunning sometimes came up short, and there was nothing left but desperate measures?” I ask, pulling away from Reeve. He looks at me in confusion, as I jerk a nod to the approaching guard.

“Run!”

A shout of protest goes up behind us as Reeve grabs my hand, and we take off, sprinting for the exit. Elegant guests stumble aside to get out of our way, and I blurt a few hurried ‘sorry!’s” behind us, but we don’t stop, skidding out of the ballroom and across the polished lobby. I knock into a table with an elaborate floral display, almost sending it crashing to the ground, but Reeve rights it at the last second, before hustling me towards the exit.

We burst through the double doors into the cool night, racing down the street away from the scene of the crime.

“Oh my God!” Reeve pants when we finally come to a stop two blocks away. He tears off his mask, laughing. “Are you trying to get us arrested?”

I’m laughing too, I can’t help it. “Did you see their faces?” I gasp, remembering the shocked looks on the fancy guests as we barreled through the party.

Reeve grins, straightening up. “Mrs. Von Riesling will never live it down. Those poor Brown-headed Nuthatches.”

I catch my breath, my heart pounding.

God, he looks good: standing there in the street light, with shadows cutting across his handsome face.

“So, what next?” Reeve asks, moving closer. His gaze is fixed on me, full of possibility. “It’s still early, if there’s anything else on your Halloween wishlist. An assassination attempt?” he suggests, reaching out to carefully lift my mask from my eyes. “Stealing nuclear codes. A bank heist or two?”

My pulse kicks, gazing up at him. “Well … there is one thing I’ve been wanting,” I confess softly.

“Yes?” Reeve’s voice comes out a little hoarse.

I nod, biting my bottom lip. “Needing, even.”

---