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He grins.
The phone rings again.
I ignore it as it rings three more times.
I wait until we’ve finished breakfast and Wolf is making a second pot of coffee to check my phone. Turns out there are voicemails. It was the DEA.
I tell Wolf. “They want to talk to me. About my mom.”
“Are you going to call them back?”
“I’ll get to it.”
Through the steam of the fresh brew, I tell him, “I’ll call Steele first.”
Wolf frowns. “I found out some things about your FBI Agent Blake Steele.” Oh, Wolf, I think, “It’s not good. He’s got a reputation.”
I shake my head and laugh. “You’ve got a reputation, Wolf. I’m surprised at you, of all people, judging someone by hearsay like that.”
Any time I connect or make contact with Blake Steele there’s a charge in it. It makes Wolf edgy, so I think about calling Steele from another room. I decide that I prefer to be open with him, though.
If he really has a problem, he can talk to me about it. He knows he might not love the result, though.
I tell Steele about the DEA. About them calling and wanting to be in touch, and what they said on the voicemail. He says he knows they very much want to find my mother.
“As much as she doesn’t want them to?” I ask him.
“Tough call.” He’s keeping his end of the call tight and light, so I assume he’s in a bureau office somewhere. There’s a trace of a laugh in his voice, though. That streak of a rule-breaker in the straight-A, hotshot agent always buzzes a thrill into me.
I picture him in his tailored version of a G-Man suit, standing tall in the middle of a busy bureau office, surrounded by desks, agents working computers. Slender, elegant female agents, touching their necks. Primping and twirling their hair. Straightening up and snapping their blouses tight.
My finger traces the muscle on the back of my neck.
Wolfs not entirely crazy about that, either.
Steele tells me he’ll make inquiries and get back to me.
I watch Wolf’s jaw clench when I hang up. It’s sexy.
“Oh, Wolf,” I pout a little. “I thought you were getting to like our multi-sided relationship.”
“I do, Eve. I love it. It’s Steele I don’t like.” He flashes his mischievous grin. “Okay, maybe that’s even too strong. But I don’t trust him.”
I kiss him on the cheek. His eyes harden. I slap him on his ass.
“I have one call I need to make.”
Wolf’s lips narrow and his eyes slide under his lids. While I pull up the number, I tell him, “That French toast was great. I could do that all over again.” He looks up. “Do you have seconds on the menu?”
His face goes from impatient to put-upon, to smiling in one sweep. And it looks like I get more breakfast, too. Result.
When Lucien picks up, I apologize to him for ruining the dinner.
He’s perfectly gracious. No questions about a date for my return to work. He doesn’t even prod me about his offer. Or, offers. I’m pretty sure it was ‘offers.’ But I don’t want to reopen that particular box right now.
When I hang up, Wolf asks me about what happened last night.
I follow him as he brings out the second round of breakfast, and I say, “Wolf, I’d like to ask you something.”
