Midnight Special: Coming on Strong

by Tawny Weber

  Then her eyes landed on his shoulders.

  His shoulders!

  Her drool dried up, the lust in her belly replaced with a different kind of excitement.

  It was him.

  Those were the shoulders.

  Marni shifted to her knees, ignoring the blanket that fell back to the mattress, and narrowed her eyes. Then she squinted, blurring her vision a little, as if she was seeing that broad muscled wonderfulness from farther away. Like, from a hallway peering into an exam room.

  She took in the hairstyle, shorter in back and longer on top. The taper of his waist and the sharply defined muscles of his back. Then her gaze returned to those shoulders.

  Oh, yeah, it was him.

  She’d had a little early-morning delight with the very man she’d told her cousin she was chasing down for a hot, sexy time.

  Funny how those things worked out.

  “Do you have your ticket?” he asked, turning to face her and buttoning his jeans at the same time. “We’ll take them to the porter, see where they made a mistake.”

  Wincing, Marni dropped down to sit flat on the bed.

  Uh-oh.

  Cute porter boy hadn’t given her a ticket.

  Which meant he probably hadn’t finished booking the berth, either.

  Think fast.

  “I’m not sure where my ticket is. I know I had it when I got on board,” she lied, pushing her hand through her hair and heaving her most frustrated sigh. “Tell you what, why don’t we get breakfast. After a cup or three of coffee, I’m sure I’ll remember where it is.”

  Her brain scrambled from scheme to idea to plan, but none of them seemed viable. She’d come too far to lose this story now. Fate wasn’t putting everything in her lap just to toss her off the train, was it? She just needed a little time. She’d come up with a plan, make contact, establish a rapport and be well on her way to getting an inside scoop on the hottest criminal case of the year.

  Cool your jets there, hotshot, she reminded herself. Gotta get past step one before celebrating a Pulitzer.

  Hadn’t the senior porter said something about overflow berths? Maybe one of those was unclaimed and she could book it. In the meantime, she just had to keep from getting kicked out.

  How the hell was she going to do that?

  Her eyes dropped back to the bed.

  Oh, no, her mind screamed.

  Please, yes, her body clamored.

  “We can eat after we sort this out. I’ll go get the porter, see what happened,” hottie said, interrupting her internal struggle. She watched him shrug into his shirt, noting his slight wince, as if whatever had sent him to Emergency was still hurting.

  “I’m not dressed,” she protested.

  “You have five minutes.” He pulled on boots, then stood to tuck his shirt into his jeans. “I’ll bring coffee along with someone who can sort this out.”

  Marni stared at the closed door for thirty precious seconds, then vaulted from the bed to grab her suitcase.

  She didn’t waste time with underwear, not trusting that he wouldn’t be back any second. Instead she shimmied into a rich charcoal pencil skirt and a pale pink angora sweater. Not bothering with a brush, she scooped her hair up and anchored it with a large clip, then stuffed her feet into her highest pair of black leather pumps. When a girl topped five-four on tiptoes, high heels were a must for facing down bullyboys.

  Needing all the advantages she could get, and knowing that she’d think naked orgasms every time she looked at it otherwise, she quickly tugged and pulled at the blankets to make the bed.

  She’d just plumped the pillows when the door reopened.

  Hottie walked through, followed by—oh, bless him—her favorite porter friend. And quickly moving him up the list of her favorite people, the porter was carrying a silver tray with an elegant coffee set and two porcelain cups.

  He set it on the small table, then gave Marni a distant smile.

  Her heart sank.

  “There appears to be an issue with the berth?” he said, addressing both her and Hunter. “Miss Clare, it seems you and Mr. Hunter have both booked the same space.”

  The worry in Marni’s gut was so strong, not even the delicious aroma of rich coffee could distract her.

  “We both booked it?” Hottie, aka Mr. Hunter, frowned and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “I’m sorry, sir. It looks like someone made a mistake. Both bookings came in at the last minute, well after our usual deadline. Sometimes mix-ups happen with last-minute reservations.”

  “Fine. Just move one of us to a different berth.”

  “Again, I can’t apologize enough. But there are no other berths. Every overflow sleeper has been claimed.”

  Nooo. Barely managing to keep her protest silent, Marni’s stomach sank.

  “This is the only berth available?” Hunter confirmed in a chilly tone.

  “This one is booked, as well, sir. By both you and the lady.”

  Heart racing, Marni waited for him to ask who’d booked first. Or to dig out his government credentials and pull rank.

  “Fine. We’ll figure it out.” With a quick tip for the coffee and a nod, Hunter dismissed the man.

  Marni wasn’t sure who looked more relieved, her or the porter. She knew he hid it faster, though, because she was still smiling when he gave a quick nod. With a murmured goodbye, he hurried from the room, leaving Marni to finish spinning this out.

  “Look, I know how special this train trip is. I mean, film noir on a restored vintage train is a once in a lifetime thing, right?” Ignoring his baffled look, she made a show of tapping one finger against her lips in consideration. “Oh, I know...”

  “I’ll bet you do,” he said, his smile just as sarcastic as his tone. He settled into the club chair, crossed one ankle over a knee and gestured for her to go ahead.

  “We can share.”

  “What?” Sarcasm fled, shock taking its place. Marni’s lips twitched. Obviously that wasn’t the answer he’d been so sure she had.

  “I’ll share the cabin with you. You’ll have to take the top bunk, of course,” she said, gesturing to the discreet notice on the wall that indicated another bed could be pulled down. “And we’d need a few privacy rules, just to keep things from getting messy.”

  She paused, wetting her lip and trying to get a gauge on his reaction. Clearly the guy had gone to the stoic school of FBI training, though. Other than losing the sarcasm, his facial expression hadn’t changed.

  Should she be worried that she was pretty sure she could stare at that face for hours, losing herself in those deep blue eyes, and never tire of seeing that same considering expression?

  “You want to share? This cabin.” His hand circled to indicate the space. It was a very small circle, fitting since it was a very small space. “With me. A total stranger, and a man whom you met for the first time, almost naked, less than an hour ago?”

  Doubts, tiny ones, started creeping under Marni’s cheerful demeanor. It wasn’t as if she’d share with just anyone. He was FBI, for crying out loud. But she wasn’t supposed to know that. Still, she didn’t like looking like a naive idiot.

  “Well, I do want your name, and you’ll have to give that nice porter a character reference so he can check on you for me,” she said with a saccharine smile. “I’ll take your picture with my cell phone and share it with my entire family, too, so they know exactly who to look for if anything happens to me. Oh, and from now on, I’ll be sleeping with pepper spray under my pillow.”

  “That a girl.” Instead of looking offended, he gave her an approving smile. Then he sucked in a breath and shook his head. “Still, smart as you’re being, I don’t think sharing a berth for a week is my idea of fun.”

  Sharing a berth?

  Or sharing one with her?

  Feminine ire prickling, Marni gave him a hard look.

  “Did you have any other ideas?”

  For just a second, his eyes flicked from her face, to the no longer ru
mpled bed, then back again. When he met her gaze again, there was a heat in his dark blue depths. Sexual, intense, powerful. Her mouth went dry and her stomach dove into her toes as Marni wet her lips.

  This wasn’t about sex.

  No matter how many ideas he had in that direction.

  “Nope,” he finally said. She blinked a couple of times. Had he read her mind, and was denying her the comfort of that no-sex lie? She replayed the conversation to try to figure out what he was noping.

  He wasn’t going to argue about sharing the space?

  This was awesome, right?

  Immediate and ongoing access to the key source for her story. A chance to sneak in hard-hitting newsworthy questions, maybe cull together some major points to write another article. This one on the mystique of the FBI agent.

  She gave a delighted little shiver at the idea of delving deeper into his...mystique.

  This was it. Her chance of a lifetime. She could get the hottest story of her career, indulge in her love for writing in-depth character studies and put the polishing touches on her very own launching pad to career success. All at the same time.

  “So,” she said with a bright, cheery smile. “Looks like we’re roommates.”

  4

  HUNTER WATCHED THE PRETTY little blonde pretend that she was perfectly comfortable with his staring.

  He figured a few hours of this friendly roommate farce and she’d not only welcome but be falling all over herself grateful for his offer to refund her full ticket cost and put her off the train in Chicago.

  In the meantime, he’d just kick it here in this cozy club chair and enjoy the view.

  A view that was currently sitting at the small desk, typing away. Waves of gold flowed around a round, dimpled face. A milkmaid complexion combined with thick lashes and big sky-blue eyes completed the picture of all-American beauty. She was too lush to qualify as the girl next door, though. More along the lines of Marilyn Monroe than Jennifer Aniston.

  Not that he was paying any attention to that overt sex appeal, even though it was wrapped in a deliciously tight-fitting, fuzzy pink sweater that cupped full breasts and a perfectly fitted, hip-skimming gunmetal-gray skirt. The packaging was pure feminine heat. The kind that made him think of long nights sliding over her body while she moaned in appreciation.

  Not that he was affected by lush curves or pretty blue eyes.

  At least, not while on the job.

  Right now those eyes, partially obscured by black-rimmed rectangular glasses, were fixed on the screen of her laptop as she typed away. He was pretty sure if he tried to read over her shoulder, he’d see nothing but gobbledygook.

  Because if there was one thing that Hunter was damned good at, it was intimidation.

  Five minutes later, his frown was more irritated than menacing. She hadn’t even looked up. Her expression was focused, her fingers still flying over the keyboard. Heck, her breathing and skin tone hadn’t changed at all.

  What the hell?

  Hunter shifted in the chair.

  He tapped his fingers on the slick fabric.

  He crossed one leg over the other.

  Then he uncrossed them.

  He scared gangbangers and drug lords.

  He sent crime bosses cringing behind their hired guns.

  And this pretty little blonde barely noticed he was here. Was she immune to men? Had she gone to an all-girls school or something?

  Suddenly, she looked up and gave him a bright smile.

  “Oh, just remembered I’m here, did you,” he muttered.

  A tiny frown creasing her brow, she reached under all that thick hair and pulled a small, wireless earbud from her ear.

  Hunter almost growled.

  Half his intimidation was based on his ability to sit, silently staring. How would she know he was silent if she had noise blasting through her head?

  “I’m sorry, did you say something?” she asked, pulling the other mini-earphone out and shaking both in her palm.

  “Nothing.”

  “Oh.”

  After a couple of seconds of his death stare, her smile drooped, and then she bit her lip and looked away.

  There. He still had it.

  The ability to intimidate sweet women. He’d bet he could make babies cry and puppies whimper, too.

  “You look grumpy.”

  Hunter scowled.

  “Really grumpy,” she decided, closing the lid of her laptop, setting it aside and getting to her feet. She glanced at the clock on the wall, then at her watch as if to verify the time. “I’ll bet you’re hungry. We haven’t had anything but coffee in two hours. Want to get breakfast?”

  “Look, you’re going to have to let me have this berth,” he said instead.

  “I’m what?”

  “I can’t do this roommate thing. It was nice enough of you to offer to share, but it’s just not going to work.”

  “So you’re leaving?”

  “No, you are.”

  Her cupid’s bow mouth dropped open and she stared for so long, he wanted to blow on her face to make her blink.

  “It’s my berth. I was in it first. Out of the goodness of my heart, I offered to share it with you. So why would I give it up?”

  Hunter considered flashing his FBI badge and going the national security route. But he was seriously tired. Tired and sore and empty. He needed a little downtime. He had a week to build a case that would put away the head of one of the biggest criminal organizations on the East Coast. He wasn’t going to do that with people bugging him, asking FBI questions and passing him in the hallway muttering, “The truth is out there.”

  He could ask her to keep it a secret. But in his experience, women couldn’t keep secrets. And she’d have no reason to want to once he’d booted her off the train.

  “I was in an accident recently,” he ventured, shifting his expression from intimidating to doleful. “I’m feeling some pain. I need space, privacy, so I can sleep when I feel like it, pace at night if I’m hurting too much. I need it if I’m going to recover properly.”

  Her pretty face creased in sympathetic lines and she poked out her lower lip in a sad pout.

  “You poor thing.”

  “So you’ll vacate the berth,” he confirmed.

  She patted his forearm. Hunter frowned at the heat he felt at her gentle touch. There, another reason to be glad she was leaving. A couple more touches like that and he wouldn’t be thinking about the case, about catching up on sleep or about the miserable ache of his screaming muscles.

  It was as if he was hardwired after their little wake-up games. She touched, he got hard.

  “Sorry, but no.” She even added a regretful smile to her refusal.

  Hunter frowned, trying to pull some of the blood north to his brain so he could remember what she was refusing.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Look, this trip is important to me,” she said, looking less like a china doll and more like an avenging angel all of a sudden. Her chin lifted, her eyes heated and she got that same stubborn my-way-or-else look his mother used to get. “I’m not giving it up.”

  “I need my rest.”

  “I need to get to California.”

  “So fly.”

  “You fly.”

  “I can’t fly. I told you, I was in an accident. Ruptured my inner ear. I fly, I die.” An exaggeration, but he was going for effect here.

  “I fly, everyone on the plane dies,” she shot back. Clearly she was better at exaggerating.

  “Oh, please.”

  “They will all die. I know they will. I’ve had horrible dreams for years about crashing, of going down in flames. And my psychic agrees. If I get on a plane, it will crash. I owe it to those other people to not put their lives in danger.” She gave a big, tearful sniffle before turning her back to him.

  Hunter squinted. She’d played it pretty well, but that had to be a total bullshit act.

  When she faced him again, her lower lip was trembling ju
st a little and she’d raised her chin as if putting on a brave face. Hunter almost grinned.

  She really was cute.

  Until she heaved a big sigh and shook her head.

  “I guess that settles it. Unless, of course, you’re giving up the berth?” When he gave a scowling shake of his head, she shrugged, then walked over to the little table by the door. He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved that she might be going, or wish she’d walk a little more so he could enjoy the view of her hips swaying.

  She picked up a small leather folder.

  “Breakfast?” She waved the menu in the air.

  Hunter frowned. He was starting to get the feeling that she wasn’t going to be easy to get rid of. Not willingly.

  “How about we settle the room situation first.” He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back in the chair, making it clear he wasn’t moving until he’d gotten his way.

  She gave an elaborate eye roll, leaned against the table and matched his crossed-armed stance.

  “And what is it that you suggest?” She widened those gorgeous eyes, pure sweetness and light.

  “I suggest you get off in Chicago. Take the next train. I’ll cover your ticket and reimburse you for this one.” There. Pure generosity. He offered his most reasonable smile to go with it. The one he used when he gave criminals the choice between jail and bodily harm.

  “I have a better idea.” Her smile took on an irritated edge, toning down the sweetness and dousing all that light. “Why don’t you get off in Chicago instead? You’re the one with the issue, you can take the next train.”

  “I have to be in San Francisco in seven days.”

  “I have to be in San Francisco as soon as possible,” she countered.

  “Then fly.”

  “I told you, if I fly, people will die.” She gave a stubborn jut of her chin before adding, “Do you need to talk to my psychic? She’ll tell you.”

  Hunter growled. His wannabe roommate didn’t even blink. Instead, she waved the menu in the air again.

  What the hell? Had he lost his mean-guy mojo in that car accident?

  “I haven’t eaten yet today,” the not-at-all-intimidated blonde said with a wide-eyed look and a pat of one slender hand on her tummy. “And I promise you, the hungrier I get, the less reasonable I am.”