He stiffened, falling back into his almost-slouch. "Why do you insist on calling me that?"
"Because it's your name," I said dryly. He liked when people used his last name instead, a habit he'd gotten used to in the military and then later on in his life on the force, as well. The fact that it bothered him only made it that much more fun. Like I said: weird dynamic. "What's up?"
He readjusted his position again and swallowed. "Well, I uh…" His grip on the black, shiny armrests tightened, and if I didn't know better, I'd say he was…nervous.
Did Joseph Hernandez get nervous?
I leaned closer. Woods and beach, that's what he smelled like. In all my years in the dating world, I'd never found another man who smelled like Joseph. "Spit it out."
"Well, you see, I'm here because…" he trailed off, looking as if he'd swallowed his own smelly shoe and it had gotten stuck in his throat. "I need a favor, Marie."
I blinked, completely caught off-guard. No wonder he looked so pained—guys like Joseph didn't like to ask for favors. "Wow. This must be important to you."
"It is," he admitted, tugging on his black tie. "You're going to a convention this weekend…"
I cocked my head. "Y-Yes."
"And you have an extra ticket."
"I do," I said slowly, confused as to why he was asking me about that.
"Could I have the ticket?" He paused, tugged on his tie again, and added: "Please."
I almost laughed at the way he choked on that word, like a cat struggling to get a hairball out. "It's in San Francisco."
He winced. "Okay."
"You'd need transportation, and the hotel is already fully booked." As I spoke, an idea formed into a plan in my head. A reckless, stupid, risky plan…but a plan nonetheless.
The question was: was this plan a good choice, or a bad one?
For years, I'd been dating the wrong guys, making mistake after mistake when all my friends reminded me to the point of annoyance that Joseph would be the perfect guy for me.
I'd always rolled my eyes and told them they were wrong, but lately, I hadn't been so sure. Seeing my friends settle down and marry the loves of their lives had done something to me, and I couldn't help but wonder…what if they were right?
What if Joseph was my Finn, Riley, or Ben?
"I can drive, and no biggie. I'll sleep in another hotel." He grinned, relief coloring his features. "Is that a yes?"
"It's a…" I licked my lips. Did I dare? Since I was taking chances and living my life…yeah, I guess I did. "It's a yes, with a few conditions."
The grin faded away as his eyes narrowed at me. "Name them."
"You go with me."
He squinted. "That was already established—"
"No, I mean, you have to go with me."
He didn't move. Didn't blink. Just stared. "Like, in the same car?"
"Like, in the same everything."
More awkward silence.
After I couldn't stand it for another second, or his "just saw Medusa" stare, I hurried to add, "I have an ex that's going to be there, and he's not taking no for an answer. So I thought, well, if you have to be there anyway, then why not use you as a shield?"
He finally moved. Frowning, he leaned in. "Is this guy a problem? You want to file a report?"
"N-No, God, no." My cheeks heated because I was failing at this. Big time. "It's not like that. He's just…annoying, and he said he wanted to try to rekindle things this weekend, but if we're together, and he sees I brought a guy…"
Understanding lit up his eyes, and he reclined in his seat again. "You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend."
Were my cheeks on fire now? "Yes."
"And, what, drive there with you?"
I nodded again.
"You don't want me to…stay with you, though, right?"
My heart sped up, but I forced a calm expression on my face. "Well, yeah, I do. My boyfriend wouldn't get a different room than me, would he?"
He blinked. "Well, no—"
"So neither would you."
"You actually want me—me, Hernandez, the guy you hate—to share a hotel room with you?"
Yep. Definitely on fire. "Yes. And I don't hate you."
"I…" he paused, running his hand over his jaw, then he shrugged. "This will help me, too, so all right. I'll do it."
She blinked. "How, exactly, will it help you?"
"Being your temporary boy toy will get me closer to my target."
I ignored the first part and focused on what mattered. "That's why you want to come with me? For a case?"
He lifted a brow. "Why the hell else would I want to go to a boring seminar on stocks and financing—"
I held up a hand. "Fair enough. Who is it?"
He dropped his hand to his lap, shifting uncomfortably on the padded seat. "I don't know if I should indulge—"
"As if I won't figure it out?" I countered, rolling my eyes. "Who is it?"
He pressed his mouth into a thin line. "Pierre Rasco."
"What?" I gasped, shaking my head immediately after because that couldn't be who he was after. "No. No. He's a legend. A god. A—"
That brow went higher. "A possible embezzler?"
Groaning, I covered my face. "No."
"Yes."
Lowering my hands, I stared at him, a pout probably popping out, but I didn't care enough to stop it. Joseph's dark brown eyes flashed back at me with way too much amusement. "But I really like him."
"Well, maybe he didn't do it." He lifted a shoulder. "It's America, so innocent until proven guilty, right?"
"I guess," I muttered.
"Being with you will help me get closer to him. It's a good plan."
I sighed. "I happen to have two seats to a small dinner party with him on the first night, so that'll be your perfect shot at some alone time with him away from the crowds and the masses of people who are still in the dark about his possibly fraudulent life. What's your cover?"
He stood and walked to the window of my office, staring outside. It wasn't much of a view; all you could see was the windowless side of the building next door. Still, he stared. "Your boyfriend, I guess?"
"But what's your job?"
He faced me. "What do you want it to be?"
The force of his stare on me was alarming, and it hit me like a pile of bricks falling on a beloved cartoon character. What was it about him that affected me so profoundly? Maybe by the end of this weekend, I'd find out. "I-I don't know?"
"What's your dream man's profession?" he asked, shoving his hands into his pants pockets and approaching, watching me way too close for comfort…like usual.
"Until recently, my dream man was anyone who didn't threaten my independence and who didn't get close enough to me to make me care about him."
He took another step. "And now?"
"Now…I want to try something different." I paused, licking my lips. His gaze fell to my mouth and stayed there. I thought I'd been on fire earlier? Well, now I was a raging inferno. "Someone different."
"I see." He swallowed hard. After what felt like a million years, he cleared his throat and added. "I'll be a writer."
I laughed. "You don't look like a writer."
"I write," he said, his tone defensive.
"Cases?" I teased.
He shrugged, not meeting my eyes. "Poems, actually." He tipped back on his heels and frowned, the wrinkles appearing on his forehead. "I don't know why I told you that, I've never told anyone. Not even Finn."
The idea of being privy to something no one else knew…yeah, it did something to me. Made my pulse race, and my muscles tighten. I swallowed and forced a smile as I lined my pens up perfectly on my desk: red, blue, black. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. I'd like to read them, though."
He snorted. "Never."
I shrugged, not meeting his eyes.
"So, we're doing this? Pretending to be together? Going so far as to share a hotel room together?" he asked almost incredulously.
&n
bsp; I nodded, still not looking at him. "Yeah, I guess we are. It's a good cover for you, and me, so it makes sense, right?"
"Right," he said immediately.
"Do you snore?" I asked him.
"Shit if I know," he replied. "I'm sleeping when I'm asleep, so I can't exactly find out, can I?"
"Have any of your millions of girls complained about it?"
"My ‘millions of girls' never stay the night." He approached, one perfectly timed step after the other as if he never got off rhythm. Me? I'd tripped going up the stairs this morning. "Marie?"
"Yeah?"
He stopped directly next to me. "Look at me."
After taking a calming breath, I did as told. He stared down at me, hand held out, palm up in an offering. Hesitantly, I touched his skin for the first time in…God, I didn't even know. I usually avoided touching him because every time I did, a weird jolt of awareness would always shoot through my blood, and to be honest that jolt scared the heck out of me.
Just like he did.
His hand was warm and dwarfed mine in size. Parts of his palm were soft, and the others had hard, rough calluses that scratched my skin. That familiar jolt of energy shot from his skin to mine, heating my blood. Nope. Couldn't do it. This was a bad idea. I couldn't go away with him and sleep with—
He tightened his grip on me, not letting me retreat this time. "You can't do that. You're my girl, so when I touch you, you should lean in, not pull away like you are now."
I swallowed, my mind getting caught on that you're my girl part. Was it too late to change my mind? Should I change my mind? The old me would have in a heartbeat, but the new, braver me… "I won't pull away, but we're alone now."
"All the more reason to practice. If we're going to pretend to be together, we need to pull it off without anyone suspecting anything." He skimmed his fingers up my arm, teasing the skin with his rough, hot fingertips. "I need to do this kind of thing, without you stiffening like you are."
I made a sound and pulled away, hopefully rubbing the goosebumps away before he could see them. "You don't need to caress my skin in public. That kind of PDA isn't my thing."
He laughed. "PDA? I touched you, Marie."
"Exactly." I reached out and ran my fingers up his jacket sleeve. His muscles were hard under the smooth fabric. "Like this."
"Yeah." That brow cocked up again. "Couples do stuff like that. Think of Finn and Carrie. They've always got a hand on one another."
I thought about it, and he was right. They did always have an arm around each other, or Finn would rest his hand on her thigh if they sat near one another.
Dropping my hand back to my side, I shrugged. "Fine. Whatever. Touch away. Do what you gotta do to make it look real and keep Samuel off my back."
"Samuel?" he asked, his forehead crinkling in a frown again. "I hated that fucker."
I sighed. "I know. Everyone did."
"Including you," he pointed out.
"Which was why he was perfect dating material."
Rubbing his chin, he considered me. His tanned skin was so flawlessly perfect that it looked almost too pretty to be real. If not for how ruggedly handsome he was, he'd have looked ridiculous with skin that any girl would die for, but instead, it just made him even more attractive.
He pushed my hair away from my cheek, his fingers grazing my skin, testing me. "Has anyone ever told you that you have bad taste in men?"
I forced myself to stand still, to not pull away. On a whim, I even leaned into his touch, pretending for a second that it was show time, and people were watching. It felt surprisingly natural. "Everyone. All the time."
His lips quirked, and he removed his touch. "I'll pick you up Friday morning at ten?"
"I can drive—" I protested.
He rolled his eyes, heading for the door. "I'll pick you up at ten, babe."
Then he was gone, leaving nothing behind but a hint of his cologne. Staring at the empty door, I touched my cheek, where I still felt his lingering touch and shivered.
What had I just agreed to?
3
Hernandez
"Wait, what?" Finn asked, standing behind his kitchen island with a butcher knife in his right hand. He wore a pair of grey sweats, a loose UCLA T-shirt, and his hair stood up on edge as he sliced chicken breast.
It was Thursday night, and I'd been avoiding him since he'd dared me to go see Marie. He deserved to be left hanging as to whether or not she'd agreed to let me go with her. I'd thought that he might already know, but apparently, either Marie hadn't told Carrie about it on purpose, or they just hadn't spoken yet. Since they told each other everything, I was going to go with the latter. When he invited me over for chicken enchiladas, I'd finally gave up on avoiding him, but only because his chicken enchiladas were to die for.
"You heard me," I said dryly, sipping my Coke. I would prefer a beer right now, but Finn was a recovering addict who couldn't drink, so they didn't exactly keep a stocked bar in their home. Even if they did, I wouldn't have cracked one open in front of Finn. It was a matter of respect. "I'm going to pretend to be her boyfriend to keep Samuel off her back, and work under the vise of such limits."
He resumed cutting the meat, whistling through his teeth. "And you're staying together? In a single hotel room? Alone?"
"No, we're inviting the whole conference to sleep with us." I rolled my eyes. "Yes, we'll be alone."
Finn laughed. "This is Carrie's dream come true. You know that, right? She's going to fucking flip."
I glanced over my shoulder instinctively when he let the f-bomb fly, but his kids weren't home yet. It was Carrie's day to get them from school and daycare, and Susan had an after-school activity that had kept her after hours. I loved Finn's kids, so I kept checking the time. I could use a few Susie-Q hugs. Having grown up as the oldest of three siblings, I was more at ease around children than adults most of the time. "Yeah, I know. It's just an act though. It doesn't mean anything."
Finn snorted. "Yeah. Okay."
I shook my head, setting my Coke on the granite countertop. The mahogany cabinets gleamed as brightly as the granite, and everything was perfectly in place. Finn and Carrie always kept a clean house. "I'm not playing the ‘you want Marie and won't admit it' game. Not today."
Finn shrugged and walked to the stove, pushing the chicken off the cutting board and into the pan. The meat sizzled upon impact. "Suit yourself. Are you nervous?"
I stared. "Why the fuck would I be nervous? I never get nervous about a case."
"I wasn't talking about the case."
Blinking, I shook my head. "Then why would I be nervous?"
"Maybe because you're spending the whole weekend with a woman, in the same room, with no escape? A woman who you've always wanted—don't worry, I won't make you admit that—and can't touch? Maybe that's why?"
Yeah. Because that was a reason to be nervous? I made a motion with my hand. "Whatever."
"Have you ever spent an entire weekend with a woman before? Or road tripped with one?" he asked, stirring the chicken amidst a puff of smoke that swallowed his head.
He knew damn well I hadn't. I hadn't been in the position to do so, having avoided all types of relationships or commitment my whole life, much like Marie. We were alike in our unwillingness to commit like that. Although, according to her, she was ready to change that.
But why though? Why now?
Despite myself, nerves balled in the pit of my stomach, mixing with something that felt a hell of a lot like excitement…which wasn't possible. Nothing was exciting about being trapped in a car with Marie for eight hours, followed by being stuck with her in a hotel room for three days, and then back in a car for another eight hours after all that.
We'd be lucky if we didn't kill one another.
"I better get a promotion," I muttered.
Finn laughed and set the spatula down, eyeing me up. "Do you snore?"
"Why does everyone keep asking me thaaaaat?" I drew out the last word in frustration.
I threw a balled-up napkin at him.
He easily ducked it, laughing even harder. "I want hourly updates on how playing house with Marie is going. Maybe more often."
"Nothing is going to be worth updating—"
Finn shook his head. "You two are totally hooking up by the end of the weekend. I'm calling it."
"No, we're not. She doesn't like me."
Finn raised a brow. "You don't have to like someone to want to fuc—"
"Who doesn't like you?" Carrie asked from behind us. She shot Finn a look. "And watch your language."
I jumped, whirling on her. "You scared the shit out of me."
"Language," she hissed, looking behind her.
"Sorry," I mumbled. "I didn't hear the door open."
"We parked in the garage." She set her purse down and went to Finn, sliding into his arms. "Who doesn't like you, Hernandez?"
"No one—" I started to say.
At the same time as Finn said, "Marie."
I flipped him off.
He winked back. "They're going away together this weekend."
He lowered his face for a kiss, but Carrie slid out of his arms and bolted to me, leaving him hanging. "WHAT?"
Finn held his arms open comically, blinking.
Good. He deserved it.
"It's not like that," I said quickly. "Don't go getting all excited. She's going to a convention, and I got asked to do a favor for Captain, who wants me to look into a guy that is speaking at the event since my partner is gone and I'm twiddling my thumbs, so I asked Marie if I—"
"Could go with her." She grinned, clasping her hands together like a child on Christmas morning. "Oh, this is fabulous. Just fabulous. This is your shot."
I covered my face. "Not you, too."
"I'm serious, it is. This is your chance to see what it's like to be with Marie, and to spend time with her alone, and make her see that you're perfect for her—"
"You didn't tell her the best part," Finn interjected, stirring the chicken again.
I crossed my arms.
"What's the best part?" Carrie asked me suspiciously.
I arched a brow.
Annoyed, she turned to her husband. "Finn?"
"They're driving together, sharing a room, and pretending to be a couple."
Undercover: An Out of Line Novel Page 2