Between Love and Honor (Men of the Secret Service #3) - Tracy Solheim Page 0,40

with his knight-in-shining-armor routine long enough to search his place. And then she’d do what she had to and disappear. These past two days had taken a toll on her. The near drowning notwithstanding, being around Ben and his close group of friends awakened something inside of her. An ache for community. For closeness. For unconditional love. Not to mention the wild desires his steamy kiss had conjured up. That made her want so much more. The sooner she could get back to her life, the sooner she could extinguish those feelings.

“I hope wherever you are taking me serves tea because I’d love a cuppa to go with a piece of this cake.”

“We won’t be staying long enough for that.”

They turned left on the other side of the Capitol taking Independence Avenue past the congressional office buildings before veering back onto Pennsylvania Avenue again. Victorian row houses sitting back behind iron fences and established trees lined the streets. With their dynamic palette of colors, no two were alike.

Ordinarily, her artistic eyes would be drinking in the beauty of the neighborhood. Instead, her brain whirred as she tried to come up with a way to stall him once they arrived. Most likely, what she was looking for was in his bedroom. Her body simmered at the thought. She’d used her feminine wiles many times to get inside a target’s bedroom. But her stomach rolled at the thought of deceiving Ben any more than she already was. Seduction was off the table with him. Mainly because the toe-curling lip-lock they’d shared earlier had turned her brain to mush in an instant. She needed to keep her wits about her.

Three blocks later, he turned onto Sixth Street before steering the car into a narrow alley between two houses where he cut the engine.

“We’re just going in, grabbing something, and coming right back out,” he announced.

“I have to go to the toilet.” Better to go with an old standby instead.

His fingers squeezed the steering wheel before letting go. “Fine.”

They entered through a back door leading into a wide-open kitchen complete with an island, stainless steel appliances, and a brick fireplace next to a round table and chairs. She was taken aback at the hominess of the room. For a brief moment, Quinn found herself actually thirsting for a cup of tea shared with friends around the table.

If she had friends, of course.

“Bathroom’s down this hall.” He indicated an area to the front of the house. He was poised to make his way upstairs.

“Is there another one up there?” she asked doing her best to look forlorn. “I’d rather not be alone in a strange place.”

His face softened instantly and she felt a twinge of guilt.

“Of course,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking. You can use the one in my room.”

He led the way up the steep staircase. There were three bedrooms on this level and an open loft area up another flight.

“Through here.” He indicated a bedroom at the back. “I’ve just got to get something from the office upstairs. It will only take a minute.”

“Take your time,” she told him.

Her fantasy of tripping over the tuxedo evaporated once she stepped inside his bedroom. It looked a lot like she imagined a military barracks would look. Neat. Orderly. Boring. The double bed was made up as if a hotel maid had done it. The floor wasn’t littered with dirty socks or discarded shoes like most guys’ rooms. Not even a container to drop his change or car keys into. In fact, unlike the Seas the Day, there was very little to identify who lived in the room. A copy of a John Grisham novel sat on the nightstand next to a phone charger. A few computer magazines were in a wicker basket beside the bed, but other than that, the room was very utilitarian.

Ben’s footsteps sounded above her and she made a beeline for his closet. Quickly, she rifled through the clothes hanging within it. Disappointment washed over her. No tuxedo. She needed to think fast because she was running out of time.

Figuring the nightstand would be the most likely place he’d store personal items from his pockets, she pulled the drawer open. The only things inside were a weathered address book and a stack of photos. Her heart stopped when she caught a glimpse of the one on top of the pile. It was the picture she’d taken of the two of them years ago. She’d propped her camera on top of a rock