Wrapped in You (3 page)

“Hawke, with an E at the end.”

“Trudy Hawke,” he repeated as he thumbed it in. Smiling at Eve, who set his latte on the counter, he held his hand out to Trudy. “I’m looking forward to this partnership.”

She snorted, but she took his hand. It was firmer than she expected and a little callused. Capable, as though it’d know what to do as it slid over her body.

She shook her head. She’d just chalk up that thought to jetlag, too.

Still holding her hand, he stepped toward her. Before she realized what he was up to, he kissed her.

She froze, stunned by the feel of his lips on hers. They were careful, as though he was wary of pushing her too far. They felt . . .

Nice. Very nice.

He broke contact, still close. “I didn’t mean to do that,” he said.

She licked her lips. “Then why did you?”

“Because I couldn’t help myself.”

“Oh.” She sort of wished he’d do it again.

“So do we have a deal? If I help you with your list, will you be my date to my party?”

“Yes.” She frowned, apparently she couldn’t help herself either.

Chapter Two

She rolled her eyes again and gave him the name of the hotel. She couldn’t believe she texted him. Desperation made for strange bedfellows.

Not that she was getting into bed with Mason. She shook her head. She wasn’t even going to think about it. Though it’d be easy to have a fling. Wasn’t that one of the benefits of having a holiday?

Except that Mason wasn’t the casual sex sort of man. She’d done a background check on him after yesterday’s encounter. Perfect credit, paid his bills on time, no outstanding tickets of any kind. Some references to one long-term girlfriend in college but it seemed to have ended over a year ago, before he moved to San Francisco.

He was more of a keeper, and Trudy wasn’t interested in keeping anything but a partnership in the detective agency.

He arrived a little after their appointed time, roaring up to the curb in front of the reception in a Tesla Roadster. Limited edition and highly coveted. She arched her brow as she slid into the low-slung seat. “Snazzy.”

He grinned. “I love her. She was my reward for moving to San Francisco.”

She glanced at him, about to ask why he’d decided to move to San Francisco when she got distracted by his outfit. The jeans were fine, but his shirt was rose colored and on top he wore a zippered leather jacket. She loved leather, but the combination of pink and punk didn’t work. “Did you raid Michael Jackson’s closet when you moved here too?”

“This jacket is very hip,” he replied without missing a beat. “Besides, Michael Jackson didn’t live in San Francisco.”

She hid her smile by looking out the window as they zoomed through the city streets. He drove with more control than she’d have expected. “Where are we going?”

“The Golden Gate Bridge, to take care of the first item on your list.”

She faced him. “We’re going to string lights on the bridge?”

“Yes.” He glanced at her and then shrugged as he returned his gaze to the road. “It’s to prove that you actually went away somewhere, right?”

“Was it that obvious?”

“Oh yeah.” He chuckled. “Your boss is crafty. Or else you’re crafty, and he knows it.”

“Both,” she said, huddling in the seat.

“Don’t worry. I have a plan.”

“Maybe I
should
be worried.”

“Not at all. I have a contingency plan if we get arrested.” He flashed her a grin, patting her leg.

She took his hand and put it back on the gearshift. “Let’s just get the ground rules straight. I’m going back to London in less than two weeks.”

“Yes . . .” He glanced at her in question.

“So don’t get attached to me, and don’t have feelings. I’m leaving.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “Does that include kissing? Because I wouldn’t mind kissing again.”

She wouldn’t either. She pursed her lips. If she were smart, she’d say definitely no more kisses.

He glanced at her. “That kiss in the café came with feelings, and it wasn’t even a big kiss.”

“No feelings,” she repeated. Then she frowned. “It wasn’t big?”

“I can do better.”

She blinked.

He gave her a sly smile. “But if you don’t want more, I can respect that, even if it’ll be a shame.”

She crossed her arms. “I’m not sure why you kissed me to begin with.”

“I couldn’t help it. Your lips looked kissable.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Stop distracting me. I need to pay attention here.”

“I’m not the one dwelling on kisses.” She stared out the window, trying not to relive the brief kiss they’d shared in the café.

He turned off the road they were on and curved around a bend into a parking lot. It was completely deserted. He pulled into a spot away from the street lamps, turned the car off, and angled toward her. “So here’s the deal. I think there’s a curfew for walking across the bridge.”

“You think?” She arched her brow.

“I’m guessing there is.” He shook his head. “What does it matter? You need to string lights on a monument, and there’s no monument that screams San Francisco like the Golden Gate Bridge. We’ve gotta do this.”

“I have to do this, because I want my promotion. You don’t have to do anything,” she pointed out.

“But I want to.” He grinned.

She had the oddest urge to kiss him despite what she’d said just seconds ago.

He leaned in and whispered, “Are you ready to hear the plan?”

“Why are you whispering?”

“Because it seems more conspiratorial. Pay attention, Hawke. We don’t want to get busted.”

She couldn’t keep the smile from her face. “We really don’t.”

“We’re going to skulk onto the bridge—”

“Do you have a license to skulk?” she asked.

“Shh.” He put a finger to her lip. “Listen, or our mission is lost.”

Her lips fell open, but she caught herself before she nibbled on his finger. She pulled back a little. Space—she needed space. It was hot in the car. “So we’re on the bridge,” she prompted.

He blinked, focusing away from her mouth, and shook his head as if clearing it. “Right. We’re on the bridge. I have EL wire that we’ll wind around a pole. Then we’ll take a quick picture and get outta there.”

“EL wire?”

“Electroluminescent wire. It’s a wire coated in phosphor that glows when you add electricity to it.”