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“Well, I…” She glances around, ensuring there’s no one too close before she adds in a whisper, “I hired a male prostitute. In a secret sex club. That’s pretty bad.”
I snort, making it clear I’m unimpressed. “Please, I’m a consenting adult.You’rea consenting adult. We’re both having a good time together. Nothing bad to see here, let alone ‘super bad.’ You’re going to have to come up with something better than that, Swallows.”
She wrinkles her nose, lifting her chin in that stubborn way I’m coming to love as she adds, “Fine. I break into buildings. Lots of them. I learned to pick locks one summer as a kid, after watching too much Harriet the Spy, and now I break into people’s vacation homes while they’re out of town. I do it all the time, in fact.”
My brows lift. I’m surprised, but also…intrigued.
Is it wrong that I find her deviant side as adorable as her sweet one? I don’t know, but I’m not sure I can help myself if it is.
“Okay,” I say, nodding as I consider this latest revelation. “We might have something here. So, what do you do after you’ve broken in? Drink their booze? Use their pool and leave wet towels in the pool house? Throw wild parties for your friends?”
She gives a self-conscious roll of her eyes. “No, I just…walk around, looking at the architecture and getting design inspiration, but still…” She points a finger at my chest. “That’s bad. And illegal. I could get in big trouble if I were caught, which I almost was one time when I didn’t realize the new owners had installed cameras when they bought the property.”
I grin. “Wow. You wicked thing, you. Just walking around, looking at things, without touching anything or causing any chaos or destruction. How do you sleep at night?”
She gives my arm a playful slap. “Oh, hush. Itiswicked. And I’ve never told anyone about it before, not even my best friends.”
I sober, my smile fading as I assure her, “Your secret is safe with me. Thanks for sharing it. I appreciate the trust.”
“You’re welcome,” she mutters. “I just think it’s a shame no one ever gets to see the inside of those old mansions except rich out-of-towners who don’t even live there most of the year.”
An idea forms, so perfect I know the ice-skating I had planned can wait for another day. “Have you been to The Met?”
She nods. “Yeah, I love it. The impressionist paintings are my favorite.”
“So, you’ve been to the period rooms?”
Her brow furrows. “Period rooms?”
“There’s an entire section near the American wing, where they’ve recreated historic interiors, from the bedrooms of kings and queens to old hotel lobbies and fancy French drawing rooms.”
Her eyes light up like she’s just found buried treasure. “No, way! How could I have missed those? That sounds amazing.”
“It’s an enormous museum. It’s easy to miss things. But I’ve been a member for years and know all The Met’s secrets. Want to head up there?” I glance at my phone. “We’ll only have a couple hours before they close, but that should be enough to see the period rooms and grab tea in the Patrons Lounge. I can text the concierge and ask them to reserve a table for us at four if you like tiny sandwiches and even tinier desserts.”
“Yes, let’s!” She practically bounces through the crowd toward the elevators. “I love tiny sandwiches and even tinier desserts. And tea! And museums.” She grabs my hand, squeezing it tight. “This is seriously the best day ever. No other day will ever be able to compare.”
Not if I have anything to say about it, I think as we slide into the elevator, taking advantage of the fact that we’re the only ones in the car to make out in the corner as we rocket toward street level.
Yes, today has been wonderful, but I haven’t begun to woo this woman. I have dozens of tricks still up my sleeve, cards waiting to be played when I want to make her jaw drop and her pretty blue eyes dance.
And yes, I probably shouldn’t be thinking about “wooing” a woman I’m supposed to say goodbye to in a week, but fuck that.I can’t bring myself to care about “should” when Maya’s cuddled against me in a car whizzing uptown, grinning from ear to ear.
She’s beautiful when she’s happy.
And I’m happier than I can remember being in years when she’s happy.
And that’s enough to push all my worries aside as we emerge from the cab and start up the grand steps to the museum, hand in hand.
chapter 12
MAYA
Best day ever.
Best. Day. Ever!
The words dance through my head as Anthony and I make our way through security and into the museum, which is every bit as jaw-droppingly beautiful as I remember from my last visit.