“Just what I need. More Rooks.”
But as she entered the foyer, her humor deserted her, and her injured side ached. He swept a look over her that, in spite of her fatigue, or perhaps because of it, set her senses on fire.
“Lousy day today,” he said.
“That sums it up.” She headed down the short hall to the kitchen. “I called Beanie before I left to come here. She’s talked to the FBI. She never thought of the rooming house, either.”
“You did think of it.”
“Not soon enough. And Cal – she hasn’t heard from him. He still hasn’t shown up, has he?”
“Not yet,” Rook said. “It’s an August weekend in Washington. No one’s here who doesn’t have to be.”
“He’s supposed to move -”
“He can afford to pay someone while he heads to the beach.” But when she didn’t respond, Rook added, “Cal Benton’s not a stupid man.”
She stared out the window above the sink, distracting herself by wondering what Rook would say if she asked him if he needed a roommate to help with expenses. She felt rootless, in a way she never had in New Hampshire or even during her weeks in Georgia. During the weeks of intense training, she’d been too busy, too focused on not failing to notice. Now, failure was a more deadly proposition. It wasn’t just about herself anymore. When she screwed up, people could get hurt.
She glanced back at Rook, leaning against the hall doorjamb. “I saw two of your brothers. They look a lot like you. How many siblings do you have?”
“Three brothers. Scott, Jim and Steven. A prosecutor, an Arlington detective and a Secret Service agent. My father is retired from the Secret Service.”
“I guess I should be glad they only wanted to run my plates instead of shoot out my tires. Your nephew’s father is the prosecutor?”
“Scott. He’s the eldest. I’m number three.”
“They all live around here?”
“They do. They’re all married with kids.”
“Ah. That makes you the black sheep, doesn’t it? Do you get along with their wives?”
“For the most part.”
“They’re not cops,” Mackenzie said, making an educated guess.
“One’s an E.R. nurse, one works at the Smithsonian and one’s a homemaker.”
“What about your mother?”
“She and a friend opened up a gift shop a couple of years ago. Drives my father nuts. They finally put him to work to shut him up – he’s in charge of the homemade soaps.”
“You have quite a clan. It’s always been just my folks and me. We get along with the rest of the family, but my relatives are a small group and we don’t see that much of them. Of my grandparents, I only knew my mother’s mother, but she died when I was in high school. But I always had the Winters.” Mackenzie sank back against the sink. “And Beanie.”
Rook said nothing.
She angled a look at him. “I didn’t see Brian’s car.”
“He’s gone home for the weekend. Lives right around the corner.”
So Nate was right, she thought with a smile. “Oh. Well. Then it’s just you and me? Your brothers aren’t going to turn up in the middle of the night, are they? They’re not keeping an eye on you, checking for strange cars in the driveway -”
“No.”
“Good, because they look like humorless hard-asses.” She smiled. “I can’t wait to meet them.”
Rook moved toward her and slipped his arms around her, just above her healing knife wound. She sank against his chest, and he kissed the top of her head. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about my family right now.”
“No, huh?” She lifted her head and draped her arms over his shoulders, locking her fingers behind his neck. “Imagine that.”
“Forget the guest room. Stay with me tonight.”
She felt a ripple of awareness and remembered their lovemaking two nights ago in her kitchen. “And if you don’t mind, I’d rather not make love to you here in the kitchen. This floor looks hard.”
His mouth was tantalizingly close to hers. “We didn’t make it to the floor last time, as I recall.”
“My stitches are out.”
“Yes, I know.”
“The wound’s healing nicely.”
He kissed her ever so briefly, and she took it as just a taste of what was to come. “I’ll be careful.”
“Not that careful, I hope.”
He lifted her up onto his hips. “Rook -”
“Give up a little control, Mac,” he said, grinning.
She sank into his arms, letting him take her weight. “Fine by me.”
He carried her back to his bedroom, its rich colors and dark woods as thoroughly masculine as he was. With one hand, he drew back the covers of his bed, then set her down. She lay against two soft pillows and watched him crack open a window, the air almost cool, the less humid breeze another tease on her already overheated skin.
She started to undress, but he sat next to her and took her hands. “Allow me.”