And So It Goes (Stevens Book 10)

Chapter 7

"What were you drinking?" Merrick asked as he joined her, placing his hand on her waist in an almost possessive manner as he moved into her space. The heat from his hand against the cool fabric made her shiver. The thought of objecting to his touch never crossed her mind. In fact, she reveled in it.

"Whiskey, neat," Agatha softly said, noting the way his eyes sparked with approval at her choice.

Merrick turned to the bartender and ordered two more, never taking his hand off her, pulling her closer as he leaned in to talk to the bartender.

"Roark Merrick?" Arthur asked, having placed him. Agatha had utterly forgotten about poor Arthur.

Agatha felt Merrick tense in response to Arthur's recognition of him.

"Yes," Merrick nodded, looking at the man. "Are you one of the Brolins?"

Arthur nodded. "I thought you had joined the army?" he asked as he looked from Agatha to Merrick with confusion.

"I'm on leave," he said with a nod to the bartender as he handed Agatha her drink and then excused them both, heading for a private booth on the other side of the room while keeping his hand in the small of her back the entire time. It took Agatha only a second to forget about Arthur as all of her attention focused on the feel of his hand.

He looked down at Agatha, stopping her from sitting with gentle pressure on her arm.

"Are you officially out?" Merrick asked.

"I am. Would you like to see the papers for proof?" She stepped into his space, letting her whole body brush his as she looked up into his dark eyes. He had touched her twice in the space of minutes, and it was something she wanted to encourage. If she was reading his signals right, he was interested, and she wasn't going to be subtle in returning that interest.

He placed his hand in the small of her back once more and pulled her close. "No, it's not necessary. You look beautiful, Agatha. As I'm sure you already know."

"How would I know?" Agatha shrugged. His words meant more than he would ever know. She had dreamed of him saying that very thing for almost two years, but she felt the need to play it cool for self-preservation.

"By the men who automatically surrounded you when you arrived," He took a tendril of hair and played with it, his finger caressing her neck. Agatha felt her legs turn to jelly as goosebumps covered every inch of her skin. Lord, he was something.

"You were watching me?" she asked, her voice husky.

"I was, and so was every man in here." He gave a slow sexy smile. "I was pleased to know that you were here to meet me and to know a side of you that they didn't." He motioned for her to have a seat.

Merrick surprised her by sitting next to her in the booth and not across from her.

"What side is that?" Agatha took a sip of her whiskey with a shaky hand.

"The warrior. The woman who is not afraid to put a doctor in his place while saving hundreds of lives, hold a dying man's hand while singing him a lullaby, and cry over the loss of a friend while pushing forward, and that was all in one day. Oh, and let's not forget the ability to knock back a glass of whiskey without flinching." He lifted his glass in a toast.

Agatha felt her heart rate speed up at the lovely words. He was good, so good that she felt the need to bring her giddy pleasure at his little speech down a notch.

"And don't forget my ability to say the completely wrong thing at the wrong time!" She countered with another toast trying to slow down her erratic heartbeat.