Windermere and Mathers walked back from the restaurant to the Sheraton Four Points after dinner. It was a cool night, and damp; Windermere shivered but refused Mathers’s proffered coat.
“What are we, dating?” she asked the young agent.
Mathers just grinned that all-American grin of his. “Just wanted to prove chivalry isn’t dead, Agent Windermere. No offense meant.”
“Shit,” she said. “I can take care of myself.”
She was drunk, a little bit, though she wasn’t sure why. She’d had three beers, maybe four. Normally, she’d be fine. But tonight, for some reason, she was tipsy. Giggly. She kept catching Mathers’s eyes on her. Hated herself for how flushed his looks made her.
You’re tired. Exhausted from this ridiculous case. You’re pumped up because your idea worked, and that corn-fed goofball over there keeps giving you the eye.
Well, so she was drunk. So what? She was allowed to get drunk. She was an adult, wasn’t she? She’d worked the case for a week plus, solid, no stops. She was allowed to relax a little. Unlike Stevens, she didn’t get to go back to Minnesota. Had to take her breaks where she could.
And so what if she was maybe crushing on Mathers a little? The agent was pretty cute, and even if he wasn’t the most intellectual guy in the world—really, what the hell was up with that Point Break stuff?—he was better-looking than Stevens.
Windermere let Mathers hold the door for her when they reached the hotel. Matched his grin and skipped into the lobby, light-headed and light on her feet. “Maybe you are a gentleman, after all,” she told him. “Even if you hide it well.”
Mathers pretended to pout. “When have I been anything but a gentleman?”
She punched his arm. “Man up, Wendy,” she said, pressing the elevator call button. “Drop your purse and try to keep up with me.”
The elevator doors opened. Windermere walked in, pressed the sixth-floor button. Then glanced at Mathers. “Eight,” Mathers said. “Please.”
She pressed eight. Curtsied. “You’re welcome.”
They rode up in silence. Mathers grinned at her. Windermere watched her reflection in the mirrored doors. Watched his reflection. The elevator stopped at floor six. The doors slid open. Then they slid closed. The elevator climbed toward eight. Mathers frowned. “Thought you were on six.”
She turned to him. “Shut up,” she said. She shoved him back until he hit the elevator wall. Then she leaned up and kissed him, hard. He went rigid for a minute. Then he relaxed, kissed her back, his tongue pressing against her lips, his hands wrapping around her and pulling her closer to him. She let herself melt into him, let his tongue spar with hers. She kissed him, and she thought, briefly, about Stevens. Then the doors opened and she pushed Stevens from her mind. Held Mathers’s hand and led him down the hall to his room.