Maxim snorted at the underhanded dig, and Savannah had to fight very hard to conceal the smile that threatened to give the game away when the others didn't appear to notice the subtext of their conversation.
"If a little sweat bothers you, Savannah, then you better hope things don't go as well as I think they will tonight," Maxim murmured, loud enough for everyone else to hear.
"I take back the 'aw,'" Rebecca said. "You guys keep it to yourselves."
"No promises," Maxim said as Savannah turned to depart Slick Cycles with a little wave. She would have liked to have gotten the last word in, but she didn't want any of the others to see what was surely an odd expression on her face, considering how hot her cheeks suddenly felt at the mental image of Maxim sweating … and naked. Better to duck out now while she still had a chance of appearing in control.
Even she could plan a retreat when she felt compromised.
Maxim appeared to favor this new line of attack, because he was all over her that evening at Paint and Pint.
She and Maxim arrived separately, with the Hammersmiths arriving together shortly afterward. Rebecca had her long red-brown hair piled up more loosely than the secretarial style she had worn that afternoon and immediately offered Savannah a hair tie to borrow. "Cute sundress," Rebecca complimented as the two women plucked aprons from the pile on the back counter. "I've never done this before. I was hoping I hadn't overdressed."
Savannah smiled. She could dress femininely when the need for it arose, and she could certainly bond with Rebecca in all the same ways she had first bonded with her roommate in college.
There was really no telling what Madison O'Conner, former roommate-turned-best-friend, would think about all this, so she had refrained from mentioning during their daily phone call that she had a date tonight. She hated keeping details of her life in the FBI from Maddie, but they both understood the necessity for it. Explaining to her at a later date that she had been forced to fabricate an entire relationship with Maxim Karev, the soon-to-be uncle of Maddie's unborn child, might prove a little harder for her friend to swallow … but she couldn't risk Vlad finding out that Maxim's impending return to the mafia fold was all a setup. Maddie had told Savannah about Vlad's own investigation into his father's murder, but she couldn't discount him from the suspect list … not yet. And if that meant keeping Madison out of the loop, then Savannah was prepared to deal with the consequences when they came.
The two couples settled at the far back of the room; everyone was in unanimous agreement that they were interested in doing more drinking than painting. Savannah was careful to post herself up in the center beside Rebecca, with the two men flanking them on either side.
While Maxim had no compliment of his own to dispense on how she looked, he made his own appreciation abundantly clear by engaging in warfare from the outset. The moment his coworkers arrived, he kept a hand almost constantly connected to her shoulder, her arm-all, she was certain, to throw her off her game in front of the Hammersmiths.
You're reading too much into this, Savannah, she chastised herself, even as she continued to keep up cheerful conversation with Rebecca. This is good for the mission. Hell, it's great for the mission. The more intimately he touches you in full view of outside eyes, the better.
She gave a little jump, then, when Maxim came up behind her and grasped her elbow from behind. "You push too hard," he murmured, loud enough for the other couple to hear, as he manipulated the arm that held her paintbrush. "You have to learn to be more gentle, sweetheart … at least in some areas."
"I'm sorry, sweetheart, please remind me what qualifies you to tell me how to hold a paintbrush?" she whispered through teeth clenched in a happy smile. Rebecca had turned back to Travis to converse, so there was no real risk of them being overheard for the moment.
"Well, I'm a man who's good with his hands, to start," Maxim said infuriatingly. He was so obviously trying to bait her with that one that Savannah refused to respond. "And I'm also a mechanic."
"You have a lot of experience holding pencil-thin shafts in your hand, huh?" Savannah remarked. "Maybe alone in your bedroom at home?" I'm not enjoying this, she reminded herself, even as she tallied another mark on her side of the mental scoreboard. And if my skin feels hot where he's touching me, it's an allergic reaction to his bullshit. Or the lead in the paint. But probably his bullshit.
"Also, can you not patronize me in front of your friends?" she asked as he pressed his chest closer in against her back. "I don't want them to think I'm just some insipid hookup you met online. I want them to respect and like me, and my odds of getting there aren't good if you don't pave the way."