And after three years of Krav Maga classes, she could do that no problem.
Best Western Garden State Inn
Absecon, New Jersey
10:05 A.M.
Sloane was in the bathroom, gingerly towel-drying her hair with one hand, when Derek returned to the hotel room.
“Breakfast,” he announced, placing a box of Dunkin’ Donuts on the dresser. “Sorry it’s junk food again, but my choices were limited.”
“So’s our breakfast break,” Sloane reminded him, tossing aside her towel and emerging from the bathroom. “We’ve got to get back to work. As for the cuisine, I’m starving. I’ll eat anything, fat and carbs included. So here I am.” She gave an appreciative sniff. “Dunkin’ makes the best coffee. I can’t wait.”
“No need to.” Derek placed one steaming take-out cup into her left hand, his lips twitching as he eyed her. “Very stylish. I wish I had a camera.”
“What?” Sloane glanced down at herself, swallowed up by Derek’s black sweatpants and Colorado State sweatshirt, both of which she’d belted at the waist to keep them in place. “I’m not an ad for Vogue?”
“Uh…no. Then again, enveloped by my sweats, you’re invisible. No one could find you to take your picture.”
“Speaking of which, the Bureau should pay for my suit. It was a Tahari—one of my favorites. And it cost an arm and a leg.”
“Don’t hold your breath. Reimbursement for designer clothes isn’t in the FBI budget.”
“I remember.” Sloane took a gulp of coffee, then sat down and helped herself to a jelly donut. “Pigging out has its advantages—especially when you’re wearing clothes that are three sizes too big for you. No sucking in your gut. No struggling with zippers. Just eat as you wish. Then, when reality sets in, add a few extra miles onto your next morning’s jog, and an extra hour of strength training and target shooting on the archery course.”
“I wouldn’t worry.” Derek polished off his first donut and started on his second. “You haven’t gained an ounce since Cleveland. After last night, I can attest to that.”
A taut silence followed that declaration.
“Should we talk about what happened?” Derek finally asked.
“Not necessary.” Sloane shook her head. “It was what it was.”
“Very cryptic. Care to clarify?”
“There’s nothing to clarify. You said it yourself—we have amazing chemistry in bed. If you’re asking if I’m going to pretend it never happened, the answer’s no. It did happen. We both wanted it to. It was incredible. It lasted all night. And now it’s morning.”
Derek took a careful swallow of coffee. “Is that your way of saying it was a one-shot deal?”
“That’s my way of saying we shouldn’t overthink this. No decisions are necessary. If we force ourselves to make them, it’ll only complicate things and create all sorts of weirdness between us. We can’t afford that, not personally or professionally.”
“So the door’s not closed.”
“Not unless you want it to be.”
“Uh-uh,” Derek returned adamantly. “Not only don’t I want it closed, I don’t even want it ajar. I want it wide open. That way, we can walk through it whenever we both want to. Which I already do.”
Sloane’s eyes twinkled. “I’m that good, huh?”
“Better.”
“So are you. But don’t let it go to your head.”
“I’ll try.” Derek grinned. “Although it’s tough, given how many times you begged me to—”
“Enough,” Sloane commanded, holding up a silencing palm—although she was openly smiling, relaxed in a way she hadn’t been for ages. “If you start a game of one-upmanship, you’ll lose. I’ll be forced to show you the marks you left on my body—everywhere on my body—when you lost control. I’ll probably have bruises for a week.”
“But I get points for being gentle with your hand,” Derek reminded her. His smile faded, and his brows drew together. “I was gentle with it, wasn’t I?”