Page 69 of Mr. Wilde

He quirks a brow, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “Distracted, Garcia?”

“Maybe.” My cheeks warm. “Is it okay if I take this to your office? I’ll leave the door open and sit with the screen facing the door.” I know there’s a lot of sensitive material on here.

He points down a glass-walled hallway with his knife. “It’s the second door. And you don’t need to do that, Cass. I trust you. I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

I retreat to his office with a bit of a pep in my step. I grin. He trusts me. Walking in, I’m determined to break the code until I discover this room isn’t much better than where I left. One wall is entirely glass, framing the moon as it reflects off the Potomac.

Wow. It’s spectacular. I settle into the chair and force myself to stare at the phone records. The staggered data packets mock me from the screen. At least until the scent of garlic drifts down the hall. Between the delicious aroma of the food and the hot guy preparing it, I’m going to be having a whole new fantasy replaying in my head each night.

Max pokes his head in the door. “Come and get it.”

Jeez, if only.

The food is perfect. And the fact this magnanimous man has taken the time out of his day to fly me here and cook me dinner is mind-blowing. We eat at the island, the silence between us feeling more relaxed than the last time we were together. The two of us grin at each other over the steam dancing above our plates. I have to remind myself to let go of any crazy notions popping into my head. Forget the fact he never corrected me when I said this felt suspiciously like a date.

This is work. Only work.

Max and I continue to smile at one another over bites of food. At one point, the silence starts to feel awkward. He attempts to bridge the gap with some small talk. General questions about cooking and whether I enjoy it.

I explain that I’ve never been a big cook. “And preparing meals for one seems like a lot of work.”

“You’ve never lived with anyone?”

“No.” I fork another bite of food. “I was dating someone a few years ago that felt like it might be headed in that direction, but…” I shrug. “Never worked out. You?”

He lets out a chuckle before a defiant, “No.”

“No one?” I find this surprising, given how he’s been with me. Kind, giving. Until that switch flips and his walls go up.

“No. I dated some in college, but never anything serious.”

I put my fork down. “I’m sure work probably makes it tough. Dating, I mean.”

“Yeah. Something like that.” So that’s the end of that topic. “If you could go anywhere, where would it be?”

My head spins at the abrupt subject change. “I don’t know. Right now, I’d probably enjoy a tropical getaway,” I answer softly. “Somewhere calm, private. But ask me on a different day, and it might be a visit to the fair or a festival. A place that’s new and different, and makes me feel alive.”

He pauses, giving me a curious glance before raising his glass. “To new and different.”

We finish up with dinner, and I insist on clearing and taking care of the dishes. Max scurries around, placing rinsed dishes in his dishwasher. It resembles a high-end car wash more than any kitchen appliance I’ve ever seen. There’s an odd familiarity with him I can’t explain. Maybe it’s merely because he doesn’t possess an ounce of pretension.

“I’m going to head back to the office, if that’s okay?”

“Sure. Work wherever you’re most comfortable.”

“It feels like I’m so close.” I wave my hands in the air. “It’s niggling at me.”

“I completely understand. Come grab me if you need anything.”

Returning to his office, I try to stay focused on why I’m here. Not get distracted by my surroundings. Like, why are there no personal photos anywhere? Not even one.

“Your face is going to freeze like that.”

I jolt in my chair at Max’s unexpected words. “Oh, you scared me.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask. Any luck?”

“Yes and no. There’s one section I keep returning to, but I haven’t figured out why it’s so important. I’ve learned it’s just my process. I only hope I haven’t gotten your hopes up.”