"So I stopped there to check on your diagnosis." Curran lifted the bottle. "You're supposed to take a hot bath with this in it. And I have to watch you very closely from a very short distance to make sure your knee doesn't fall off."
Aha. I'm sure Doolittle said it just like that, especially the watching from the very short distance part. "Would you like to sit in my nasty medicated bath with me?" And why did that just come out of my mouth?
Curran's eyes sparked. "Yes, I would."
I arched my eyebrow. "Are you trustworthy enough to be let into the tub?"
He grinned. "Let?"
"Let."
"I own this tub." Curran leaned toward me. "I don't know if you heard, but I kind of run this place. Not only am I totally trustworthy, but my behavior is beyond contestation."
I lost it and went into the bathroom, laughing under my breath.
Being the Beast Lord's main squeeze had its perks, one of which was the enormous bathtub and a walk-in shower with water that was always hot, no matter if magic or tech had the upper hand. Most things in Curran's quarters were oversized. His bathtub was the deepest I'd ever seen, his sofa could seat eight, and his criminally soft bed, custom made to be extra wide to accommodate his beast form, rose four feet off the floor. At heart, Curran was a cat. He liked soft things, high places, and enough room to stretch out. I took a quick shower to wash off most of the blood and dirt and climbed into the tub. Sinking into near-boiling hot water smelling of herbs and vinegar hurt for a split second, and then the burn inside my knee eased.
Curran came back from the kitchen, carrying two beers. He set them on the tub's edge and stripped, peeling the clothes off his muscular torso. I watched the fabric slide off Curran's back. All mine.
Oh boy.
He stepped into the tub and sat across from me, presenting me with a view of the world's best male chest up close.
Seducing him in the tub smelling of vinegar was out of the question. There had to be boundaries.
Curran leaned over to hand me a beer. I reached for it and then his arm was around me. His face was too close. He laid a trap and I totally fell for it. He dipped his head and kissed me.
On the other hand, we could do it in the tub. Why not?
Curran's gray eyes looked into mine. "Pupils don't seem to be dilated. You aren't high, you aren't drunk. What the hell possessed you to run out of a nice safe office into a gunfight?"
And he just shot his chance for sex into outer space. "I told you, there was a girl. The PAD opened fire and cut her leg almost completely off. She might have been twenty, tops. She almost bled to death in my office."
"It was her choice. If she wanted to stay safe, she could've joined the Girl Scouts. She isn't out selling cookies, she's piloting diseased corpses for a living."
I took my beer out of his hand and drank. "So you would've stood by and let the PAD kill four people?"
Curran leaned back, sprawling against the tub wall. "Four of the People. Not only that, but I can take a shot from an M24. You can't."
"When you offered me this business, did you think I would stay in the office all day baking cookies?"
"Nobody ever died of being shot by a cookie."
He had me there. I groped about my brain for a snappy comeback. "There is always a first time."
Oh, now that was a brilliant response. No doubt he'd collapse at my feet in awe at my intellectual magnificence.
"If anybody could manage being shot by a cookie, it would be you." Curran shrugged. "We agreed you wouldn't take chances."
"We agreed you would let me do my job as I see fit." He drank his beer. "And I'm holding up my end of that agreement. I didn't drop everything and charge over there to shield you from bullets, shove guns up the PAD's asses, and slap the People around until they could come up with a good reason for this clusterfuck. I knew you could handle it."
"Then why are you chewing me out?"
Little wicked lights sparked in his eyes. "Despite showing superhuman restraint, I was still worried about you. I was emotionally compromised."
"Really? You don't say. Emotionally compromised?"
"Aunt B used that phrase today to explain to me why I shouldn't punish a fifteen-year-old idiot for having a threesome in front of the morgue."
Aunt B had jumped the gun. Should've let me handle it first.
Curran pondered his beer. "Never would've thought to use that to describe the kid's problem."
"Well, how would you describe it?"
"Young, dumb, and full of cum."
That pretty much summed it up. "You missed your calling. You should've been a poet."
Curran drained half of his beer and moved over to sit by me. "Don't take stupid risks. That's all I ask. You're important to me. I wish you were that important to you."
Trying to distract Curran was like trying to turn a train: difficult and ultimately futile. "If I kiss you, will you let it go?"
"Depends."
"Never mind. The offer is withdrawn." I leaned my head on his biceps. It was warm in the lion's embrace, as long as you didn't mind the huge claws. "I've got a client."
"Congratulations." Curran raised his beer. We clinked our bottles and drank.
"Who is it?"
"Remember the chick in charge of security at the Midnight Games?"
He nodded. "Tall, reddish hair, green rapier."
"She works for the Red Guard."
I brought him up to speed on everything, including Teddy Jo's freezer.
"Sounds like the Red Guard wants you to save their ass, and if it blows up in their faces, they'll blame you for it." I leaned back. "I have to start rebuilding my reputation at some point. This would go a long way toward fixing it."
A fierce gold light backlit Curran's eyes. Suddenly he looked predatory. If I weren't one hundred percent sure he loved me, I would've gotten the hell out of that tub. Instead I leaned over and stroked the light stubble on his jaw.
"Picturing killing Ted Moynohan in your head again?"
"Mrm."
"Not worth it."
He slid his hand along my arm and I almost shivered. His voice was like velvet, hiding a hoarse growl just beneath the surface. "You thought about it."
I drank my beer. "I did." Actually right now I would've liked to punch Shane even more. It would be good for me. Therapeutic even. "Still not worth it."
"If you need more money, all you have to do is dial accounting," Curran said.
"The budget we set up is fair. I'd like to stick to it. Anyway, I told you mine, will you tell me yours? What's bugging you?"