Who Glares Wins (Lexi Graves Mysteries) (35 page)

I
avoided his eyes. I
didn't dare ask him what.

“How was your date?” I asked him.

“What date?”

“When I last saw you. When you gave me the wire.”

He frowned. “I wasn’t going on a date.”

“Oh.” I waited for him to elaborate
,
but he didn’t.

"How's Maddox?" he asked
, topping up my glass
.

"You're full of the unexpected tonight," I said. "Maddox is fine. Says he hasn't seen you in a while." Actually he hadn't said
that
in a while
,
but I didn't want to spill my relationship woes to my boss. How would it look if Maddox wasn't talking to me and I was enjoying a dinner date with
Mr.
S
ex-on-a-stick? It
certainly
wouldn't pave the way for a happy reconciliation. On the other hand, Solomon was my boss and he was at home, not the office. What was I supposed to do? Say no?
I bet Maddox went to his captain’s house when he was instructed.
I wondered if his captain cooked and poured him wine.

"No need to," agreed Solomon.

What was it with men? I didn't
need
to see Lily
,
but I hung out with her all the time. We went to the gym together when I couldn't think of a good reason not to, we had dinner together at least three times a week
,
and there was always a place set for her at my parents
’
for dinner too. We shopped and manicured
together,
and she knew everything there was to know about me.

I gulped the rest of the wine. "Was asking about Maddox your weird and twisty way of
finding out
if we're still seeing each other?" I had no idea what made me say that and, gasp
!
M
y voice sounded a little too flirty. I swear
,
it just came out of its own accord and now it was hovering in the air between us. Maybe I was getting a little paranoid about the
“
no speaky
”
thing. Maybe it was the wine. I mentally cursed the wine.

"I don't see how the phrasing was weird and twisty," said Solomon. But he didn't deny it.

"Funny. Avoid the obvious
,
why don't you?"

"Same way you're avoiding the question."

"I like these potatoes. What herbs did you use? Rosemary?"

"And thyme."

"A man of many talents."

"You don't know the half of it."

"Flirt." I finished my dinner and closed my eyes for a moment, enjoying the flavors and the feeling of being well fed
by food that
wasn’t
nuked
. "That was really good," I said, reaching for my wine glass
,
which had mysteriously been topped up while I wasn't looking. Possibly by the meddlesome ninja wine fairy. "You're a good cook."

"Thank you. You want to take the tour?"

"Of your house? Yes
,
please." I loved looking around other people's houses, which was good, because there was
the
possib
i
l
it
y
of
breaking and entering in my imminent future.

"Come on. I'll show you around."

Solomon seemed pleased with his home and I could tell why. It was clear
he
had been renovating because the bathrooms were new and shiny and the wooden floors stripped beautifully
.
T
here were
still
lots of period features left, all restored. I got the first floor tour first
:
a
large
,
eat-in kitchen, appliances hidden behind expensive doors and smooth
-
as
-
silk Corian
countertops
.
The floor
-
to
-
ceiling windows behind the breakfast table and chairs
were so new, they
reflected us
.
Solomon stood with his legs planted slightly apart, hands on hips, while I moved around. I turned away, back into the house.

"How do you find anything?" I asked.

"Experience," said Solomon
, his eyes following me
. "Touch."

I shivered.

The living room, like the dining room, was finished except for a few small
details
, like light shades and curtains. Funnily enough
,
there was already a flat
-
screen hung on the wall.
Men
. I picked up the fabric swatch cards tossed in a bowl on the coffee table and pondered them.

"I don't see you as
the
kind of guy
who picks out curtains
," I said.

"Someone has to do it. I just have to pick the color."

"And the drape and the fabric. It's very complicated. You need to take this stuff seriously, Solomon." I nudged him with my elbow.

"Funny. What would you pick?"

"This one." I tapped my finger on the middle swatch. "It's subtle. Elegant.
Not flashy.
One of those is like you."

"Which one?"

"Pick," I said.

He gave a shallow exasperated shake of his head.
"Turn it over."

I turned the swatch over and found an
“
x
”
marked on the back.

"I can't believe I'm talking about curtains with you." I couldn't believe I was mentally decorating his house. This had to stop. "Tell me about a dangerous mission instead."

"I once went to rescue a woman from a
homicidal
maniac." Solomon inclined his head upstairs and
I
followed
his ascent
, my hand sliding on the
long, hard, length of the
polished
… Dear God
!
I took my hand off right away.

"Yeah? W
hat happened?"
I asked.

"She shot the idiot."

I laughed. "Sounds familiar."

Upstairs there were
four
bedrooms, one of which
was
transformed into a home office
. It was
sparse
,
but nice with a solid desk, chair and a laptop,
its
screen closed. The other two bedrooms were empty.
I wondered what he planned on using them for.
The final room was clearly the master
bedroom
and Solomon
obvious
l
y
hadn't gotten around to it either
.
B
eyond
a large bed made up with white linens and a serviceable amount of pillows,
there was
no other furniture. Two doors led off the room, a bathroom and closet
,
I guessed, but they were
both
shut. The twin windows had blinds instead of curtains. My apartment wasn't much bigger than the bedroom.

"It's nice," I said, turning to walk back downstairs
. As I reached the landing, I heard
Solomon a couple of steps behind me
, his footsteps sounding on the hardwood
. "It'll be beautiful when you've finished."

"Remind me to give you the tour again sometime."

My cell phone rang as I stepped off the stairs into the hallway, the sound muffled by my purse.

"Excuse me," I said, checking the screen as I retrieved it. Maddox. "I have to take this."

"No problem," said Solomon. "You take it. I'll clear the table."

"Thanks. I know I'm a bad guest."

"No, you're not."

Solomon excused himself
,
and I pressed
“
answer
,”
put
ting
the phone to my ear. "Hey."

"Hey," said Maddox. "I went by your place an hour ago
,
but you weren't home. Where are you?"

"I'm at dinner."

"With Lily?"

"Solomon."

Maddox was quiet for a moment. I expected him to say something unpleasant about Solomon's intentions, or something cross, or maybe even a little jealous. When he spoke, it wasn't what I expected. "What's for dessert?"

"I don't know."

"I can have a hot lemon meringue pie at your door in one hour."

"Tempting."

"Call me if you want it." Maddox clicked off. I looked at the blank screen for a moment, frowning, then laid it on the coffee table, puzzled. If Maddox had said something else, like
“W
hy?
”
or
“
I don't want you at dinner with another man
,”
I'd have understood it
.
I
nstead
,
he left me with a flirty little offer that I suspected might have a little more in it than hot pie. Men could be very surprising creatures when they weren't consumed by their baser instincts: food, sex, fighting.
Not that there wasn’t anything to be said for any of those things, when the time was right.

Solomon re-entered the living room, bearing coffee in black cups. "Everything okay?" he asked.

"Yes, fine. That was Maddox."

"What did he want?" Solomon passed the coffee cup to me
.
I warmed my hands around it, sitting when he
signaled
to take a seat on the wraparound sofa.

"He wanted to know what's for dessert." I wanted to know if Solomon's
dessert
matched up to freshly baked
,
hot lemon meringue pie before I made a decision as to stay, or
split
. And by stay, I was fairly certain I was thinking about dessert
,
not Solomon
shedding
his sweater, revealing a shirt
with
a couple of buttons
undone
,
baring
his chest
,
or the way his arms bulged under the sleeves
,
or the way his pants curved around... I yelped as coffee splashed me
. I
reached for a tissue to dab the small drips dry.

Solomon's voice was low and full of promise. "I don't do dessert. I go all out on the mains.
I like my guests satisfied from the start.
"

Oh boy.

"
Do y
ou want to
go over the case now
?" I said, quickly continuing, "I didn't get a chance to write up today's notes
,
but
they’re
in my head." Like an idiot
,
I tapped my finger against my forehead. Hell, Solomon made me nervous sometimes.

"To be honest, not really. Don't go thinking I got you over here under f
alse
pretences. I want to hear your report
,
but I'm tired.
More than I thought.
It's been a long week."

"I'm surprised. I didn't think you got tired. I thought you just worked constantly
;
then stuck your finger in a wall to recharge
." Solomon had a work ethic like nobody's business. He thought nothing of working days, nights, weekends. I suspected he was a workaholic, which made dinner tonight all the more surprising
, and the house built for a family, doubly so
. I sipped the coffee. It was
richly dark,
hot, smooth
, sweet,
and... I was staring at him. I turned away, looking around the room, anywhere
,
but at him
.
I said, "I can go.
If I get the reports completed tonight, w
e can look at them tomorrow."

"No, stay, it's fine." Solomon relaxed against the pillows, stretching his legs out. One knee bumped against mine, the fabric rough against my bare leg. "I have my moments. Setting up the business is a lot of hard work. There's a lot to do."

"
I see. You just invited me around for my awesome company.
Anything I can help with?"

"No, but thanks for asking. It's paying off. I've taken on some big contracts."