Читать книгу Grey's Magic - Dawn Addonizio - Страница 11

Grey whistled in appreciation as they strode through the cavernous lobby of the sprawling beachfront hotel. Marble floors, frescoed ceilings and gilt trim out the yin yang. This was old Palm Beach at its finest. And its most expensive.

“Thanks again for setting up the room,” he said to Sparrow. “I doubt my office even tried to book this place. It’s not exactly in the FBI’s daily travel budget.”

Sparrow laughed. “No problem. Sydney has connections with the staff. And here she is,” he added, his expression gentling as they approached a smiling woman sitting on a leather barstool.

Grey didn’t know what he’d expected, but it wasn’t the unassuming, jean clad beauty waiting for them. She had a free spirited, bohemian look with her long hair and loose, colorful top.

And if their lingering hello kiss was anything to go by, she and Sparrow were crazy about each other. She broke it off with a laugh and gave Sparrow a playful swat when he continued to nuzzle her. Leaning around him, she said hello to Scarlett, and then stuck her hand out to Grey.

“Hi. I’m Sydney.”

“Greyson. But my friends call me Grey. Pleased to meet you.” Her smile was infectious and he couldn’t help but grin back at her. “I was just thanking your man, Sparrow here, for getting me the free room. But I hear that was really your doing.”

She waved it off. “Live in a place like this and you get to know people. Besides, do you have any idea how much they make here in a single season? They can afford to comp a room for an FBI agent working a local case.”

“Well, I thank you nonetheless,” he said sincerely. “How does one get to live in a place like this anyway?”

She gave a wry laugh and glanced at Sparrow. “It’s a long story. And you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. But that’s neither here nor there,” she said, hopping off the barstool. “How do you feel about champagne and Chinese food, Grey?”

“I feel pretty good about champagne and Chinese food,” he replied with a bemused look at Scarlett, who shrugged as if to say she was just along for the ride.

“Good! Because the food and drink prices here are outrageous. And I happen to have a couple of bottles chilling up in my penthouse, as well as quite an assortment of little paper boxes of deliciousness on the way.”

“How could I refuse an offer like that?” Grey replied.

“I was hoping you’d say that. Come on, we don’t want to miss the delivery guy.” Sydney shot Sparrow a self-satisfied smirk as she linked her fingers through his and pulled him toward the elevator.

He’d had about thirty seconds to explain what was going on when he’d called to warn her they were coming. And he had to hand it to her—he couldn’t have planned a cozier, less threatening setting for Scarlett and Grey to get to know each other if he’d had an entire day to do it.

“Posh living,” Grey commented as they exited the elevator into Sydney’s private foyer. “I like it.”

“Know what my favorite part is?” Sydney asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

“The amazing view?” he suggested on an impressed breath as he followed the trio inside.

Sydney shook her head. “The twice a week maid service,” she replied giddily as she continued into the living room and dropped onto the couch with a blissful sigh.

Sparrow joined her, leaving the smaller loveseat for Scarlett and Grey.

“Wasn’t there a chair here before?” Scarlett stood frowning at a space near the sliding glass door.

“Yes, but I’m having it cleaned,” Sydney answered brightly as she leaned forward to pull a bottle of champagne from its ice bucket on the coffee table.

“I hope no one minds casual dining with chopsticks on the sofa,” she said, smiling at Grey as she filled his glass. “I’m afraid my dining room has become my home office.”

Scarlett lowered herself into the space beside Grey, trying to act as if his nearness didn’t affect her. But he smelled amazing. She’d noticed it on the car ride over, sitting next to him in the front seat.

He didn’t have the artificial cologne odor that many human men seemed to favor. He smelled simply of clean soap and warm skin, like her own people. But more appealing than any male she’d ever met.

His leg brushed against hers and she could feel the firm muscles of his thigh through the material of his slacks. It sent fissions of awareness prickling across her skin, and tingles of heat cascading through her blood stream.

The sensation was entirely new to her, and she had difficulty ignoring it as she tried to focus on what he was saying to Sydney.

“…working from home. I’m on the road so much. I have to say this is a nice change from eating out of boxes alone in my hotel room.”

“You’re still going to be eating out of boxes in a hotel room,” Sparrow joked, “but at least you’re among friends.”

Grey turned to Scarlett. “So, how long have you and Sparrow known each other?” he asked, his lips quirking upward. “A buddy from Australia once told me that he thought it was rude when people commented on his accent, but I couldn’t help noticing yours and Sparrow’s are similar.”

“So you’re sayin’ all Irish people sound alike now, are ya’?” Scarlett quipped in an exaggerated brogue.

Grey held up his hands and laughed. “I wouldn’t dare. I know what a dangerous woman you are to offend.”

“She’s a triple threat,” Sydney warned him. “Are you aware that she’s a master swordswoman, amongst all of her other talents?”

“Really?” Grey asked. “Fencing?”

Scarlett shook her head and took a sip of wine, her cheeks heating beneath the attention. “Long sword fighting.”

Grey’s eyes lit with respect and something deeper. It curled along Scarlett’s nerve endings and made her entire body feel alive.

“I’d love to watch you some time,” he said. “We had a little sword training in the Marines and it was something I always thought I’d be interested in pursuing. Is there a place down in Key Largo where you train?”

The question jolted Scarlett back into the reality that everything they’d told Grey was a lie. And she hated the reminder.

“Man, you were in the Marines?” Pat interjected, saving her from answering. “Which unit?”

“I did most of my time in Special Ops Command and went straight into the FBI from there,” Grey said, wondering if the other man was about to burst out in a testosterone laden ‘Oorah’.

Not that he wasn’t proud of his service, but it seemed to bring out the adolescent one-up-man-ship in a lot of guys.

“How does it feel to be a bad ass G-man?” Sparrow asked with a deadpan expression.

Grey let out an amused snort. “Like half my life has been classified?” he replied, only partly joking. “Seriously though, I had a plan, I was dedicated to it, and my career has pretty much followed the path I charted.

“My only regret is that some of my relationships have fallen by the wayside because of it. Most people can’t accept it when you tell them you have to keep such a big part of your life a secret from them.”

Sparrow nodded in understanding. “That’s tough, man,” he said as he leaned back and put his arm around Sydney. “But I think when the right people come into your life, they understand.”

Sparrow glanced at Scarlett as he continued. “And to answer your question from before, Scarlett and I grew up together in a small town in County Kerry, Ireland. That’s where we learned to sword fight, though I have no problem admitting she can kick my ass at it.”

“You’re in good company then. I just met her and she’s already kicked mine,” Grey said with a grin.

“You haven’t found a place to spar down in Largo yet, have you Letty?” Pat asked casually, trying to lure her back into the conversation.

“Uh, no,” she replied, reminding herself that she needed to play along with their fabrication. “I’ve been training by myself out in the yard.”

“Maybe you can help me brush up on my technique while we’re here,” Grey suggested. “I saw a gym downstairs with a good sized space covered in floor mats. Maybe they have something we could use as practice swords, or if not, we could just work on forms.”

“Sure, if you want,” Scarlett agreed without thinking. “How about first thing in the morning, before breakfast?”

“It’s a date,” he confirmed. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

The thought of sparring with him was...exciting. Every cell in her body came to attention at the idea. Maybe she shouldn’t have agreed, but she couldn’t resist. All she had to do was blink back here before seven and pretend she’d stayed the night with Pat and Sydney.

Wait a minute, had he just called it a date? She studied him surreptitiously, wondering if he’d meant it that way.

Not that it mattered. Getting too close to him would be crazy. She couldn’t tell him the truth about her world. And even if he somehow found out, he’d probably be furious with her for lying about it.

Although, from what he’d said, he understood the necessity of keeping secrets...

There was a knock at the door and Sydney exclaimed, “Finally, I’m starving!”

“I’ll get it,” Sparrow volunteered as they both rose.

Grey shifted so that he was facing Scarlett and smiled. The activity by the door faded into white noise as he caught her gaze. It was as if the entire surface of her skin vibrated with awareness at his proximity.

Being this close, touching him, having his attention focused on her—the feeling it gave her was akin to the electric buzz she got after downing a shot of smooth Irish whiskey. Yet so much better.

He gave her a curious look. “What were you thinking about just now? You had the strangest expression on your face.”

“Whiskey,” she answered huskily.

Grey lifted a dark brow, heat flaring in his eyes at her tone. “Not really a champagne kind of girl, then?”

Scarlett cleared her throat. “I suppose I prefer the burn from a shot of good blended Irish whiskey.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied with a half smile. “I, myself, prefer to sip a rare single malt.”

Her eyes lit with appreciation. “I enjoy that as well.”

“I once had the pleasure of sharing a glass from an $1100 bottle of Knappogue Castle 1951 with a five star general. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever tasted. The layers of complexity were unbelievable.”

“I know that bottle, and you’re right, it’s incredible,” Scarlett said with a grin. “My Da bought me one for Christmas a few years back.”

It had actually been more than a few years back, when the bottle was not yet so rare. But it had still rivaled the finest offerings from the distilleries in her own realm.

And her family didn’t really celebrate Christmas, but it was easier than confusing Grey by calling it a Winter Solstice gift.

He whistled. “I wouldn’t mind finding one of those in my stocking. You must have been very good that year.”

He leaned forward to grab his champagne glass from the coffee table and Scarlett sucked in a breath as his leg brushed hers and little shockwaves of sensation travelled up her thigh.