Page 19 of Moonlighter

“Um, gratuity…”

“Already added,” the young man says.

Of course it is. I scribble my signature.

“Oh, and here’s your package.” The guy hands me a box and then follows his coworkers out into the hallway.

I look down at the box I’m holding against my bare belly. It weighs hardly anything at all, and it’s addressed to me, not Alex. The sender is listed as MAX YOUR ASSHOLE BROTHER.

Huh. At least it’s honest. But the postmark is from three days ago, which really hacks me off. And I have no idea what Max has sent us.

As it happens, I don’t find out for another few minutes because whoever packed the darned thing assumed this box would need to survive a battlefield assault. I’ve never seen so much tape in my life. Picking at it with a fingernail gets me nowhere.

So I pour myself a cup of room service coffee and then dig up a knife from a drawer in the kitchenette. When I finally cut all the tape off the box, I find…a throw pillow? What the fuck? It’s small, done up in white and black dots on one side, with stripes on the other.

My brother has obviously lost his mind. Neither one of us has the least bit of interest in home furnishings. I toss the pillow onto a dining chair and pluck a handwritten note out of the box.

Hey, Eric—whatever you do, don’t toss the pillow around. There’s a very sensitive camera inside.

Well, fuck.

Locate the camera by feeling both sides to identify the hard spot. Then put this on a piece of furniture which faces thedoorto the suite. When you and Alex aren’t at home, we’ll watch the door for you. Please check your texts just before you reenter the hotel roomeach time, in case we’ve picked anything up.

After you position the pillow, text “sight check” to 35763. You should get a response within five minutes. If you don’t, I need to hear about it. —M

That’s all he wrote. Noplease. Nothank you.

Whatever. I adjust the pillow on the sofa as he asked, and then find my phone to send the text.

I’m annoyed, but not too annoyed to sit down at the table and pick up my fork. The first bite of omelet is just what I need in this life. “Alex!” I call. “Your breakfast is getting cold.”

She emerges a moment later wearing a resort robe and a towel over her hair. I am not going to admire her legs. Nope. Even though she rubbed them against mine all night while I was trying to sleep.

“Morning.” She blinks at me. Specifically at my abs, I think. “Where are your pajamas?”

“Don’t own any.” I glance down at my boxers. All the important bits are covered. “Does it matter? I could put on my bathing suit instead. It’s more or less the same thing in a brighter color.”

“Right.” She clears her throat. But I don’t miss her eyes making another quick sweep of my body. And I have to hold back a laugh. Could Alex be having a moment of regret? “Um…” She shakes her head once. “Thank you for dealing with the delivery.”

“No problem.” I lift a hand to my chest and stroke a palm down my bare skin.

And, yup, her eyes lock onto my fingers, and she follows my movements like a hungry dog eyes a piece of meat.

How funny is this? Now I’m definitely not putting on a shirt this morning. Not until I absolutely have to. Why ruin the fun?

She finally drags her gaze off my body, picks up a coffee urn and pours herself a cup. Then she takes a moment to examine both coffee urns. “I think you have the decaf.”

“What?” I yelp. “Who orders decaf?”

“Pregnant women.” She takes the cup out of my hand and swaps it with hers. “I am allowed to drink a single cup of real coffee each day, but I try to wait until the moment when I need it most.” She picks up the urn of regular coffee and tops up the cup of decaf. “Although, jet lag calls for cheating. Just a harmless amount.”

“No judgment here.” Unlike my brother, I’m not in the business of telling anyone what to do.

Speaking of my brother, my phone vibrates with a text. I shove a strip of bacon in my mouth, wipe my hands, and then get up to read it.

Max: Camera works!

Eric: Okay. Whatever. Why does Alex need this level of spy fuckery in her life?