by Rosa, A.
He's wearing a tight black V-neck that makes all his muscles visible as he moves, and his fitted denim jeans hang on his hips. His blond hair looks windblown, and those piercing blue eyes are exactly as I remember them—they always feel like they are swallowing me whole. I gulp at the thought.
All I can manage is a weak smirk as I start to become confused. Why would he approach me here? At least I don't have to follow any rules out here in the open. I am also armed, which I find reassuring.
"Mind if I join you?" His arm gestures toward the empty chair next to me.
"Why?" I ask. Agent Turner, you have no filter.
He laughs, though almost offended. "Because."
"That isn't a reason," I quip.
He huffs, pulls out the chair anyway, and takes a seat. My eyebrows furrow at his direct defiance, but I still can't stop my heart from beating so hard. Why does he have to be so damn attractive? I look like a mess. I came here for a last-minute study session. I cannot focus with this Greek god of a human being sitting here, staring at me with those picture-perfect eyes. He's still an arrogant asshole—don't forget that, Alex; stand your ground. Oh, and let's not forget my job being on the line ... potentially.
He places his coffee on the table. His stark look makes me melt as he asks, "Why are you so mean to me?"
He avoids eye contact. Am I making him nervous?
The question shocks me. I guess I never thought of it that way. I swallow hard. "I'm sorry. I am just trying to protect myself."
He turns back to me. "Protect yourself? What do you mean? From whom?"
I smile over the fact that he seems to be as frazzled as me with this encounter.
"From you, of course, Mr. Hunt."
"I told you, it's Jeremy. And that's ridiculous."
I laugh, which makes him laugh too. He reveals his full grin, making my heart skip a beat.
"Ridiculous? Did you just say it's ridiculous? It's not ridiculous. I know how you try and manipulate women, Mr. Hunt." I enunciate the T sharply.
His smile vanishes, and his eyes search mine for something, but for what?
"You think I manipulate women?" He tilts his head. I think he's debating whether he should be offended. I should not reveal how much I know about him, but he should know most of it is public knowledge.
I set my pencil on my book and sigh, deciding how honest I want to be.
"Is manipulation too harsh of a word for you?" I ask a little too sternly.
"I guess I didn't realize that's what I do."
"You do it all the time, well from what I can tell."
"Are you saying you observe me a lot?" Always the big flirt.
I guffaw and roll my eyes.
"Why is it that you think every woman is attracted to you? You're trying to manipulate me even now."
"Actually, I thought we were flirting, but if that is your definition of manipulation, then I don't know what to do with you. You know, you can be quite frustrating." He sips his coffee and raises his eyebrows, watching my every move.
I ponder the statement, and it bothers me that he can knock me off track so easily, because in a way, he is right.
"You keep pushing me away, and I can't figure out why. I don't think all women are attracted to me, but I know you are."
I pick my pencil back up and try not to look at him. I don't like this. I can feel my face heating with blush, and I already don’t like how frequently it is happening now. Without looking at him, I respond with, "That's unfair."
"Alex, look at me." I can hear a smile in his statement, and with my name on his lips, I reluctantly look at him. "How come you can be bluntly honest, sometimes almost hurtful, to me, but I can't be as honest with you? A taste of your own medicine doesn't seem to sit well with you."
I bite at my lip, pouting because the comment makes me angry. Catching me off guard, he lifts his hand to my chin, pulling my lip from my teeth.
"Don't do that. This isn't going as I had planned. If I have to leave here without a date, and the last image I have is of you chewing that lip, I might go nuts."
My mouth hangs open after he lets go of my chin. His skins second encounter with mine leaves a wonderful tingling sensation. My anger dissipates, and an odd sense of desire replaces it. How can he say something like that to me? I'm shocked and even more embarrassed than I was before. He looks at me with a smile playing upon his lips, as if proud of himself. Great.
"Why are you doing this to me?"
He bites back his smug look. "Doing what?"
"Playing with me?"
I'm frustrated with my reaction to him. I can't seem to keep my hormones in check, and the need to shoot off a few rounds to blow off steam and regain some control sounds like the best plan of action.
You've got some serious issues, Agent Turner.
He sighs as he sits back in his seat. His eyes flit over my body, causing every muscle in my core to tense.
"Alex, you've given me no choice. You play with me just the same. You answer everything I ask with another question. You've made me out to be the bad guy, and I don't know how to shake that. I understand I overstepped my boundaries when we first met and I apologized for that. Yet, I suspect you haven't forgiven me for it. I'm trying to flirt with you. I know you love a good argument, hence the only type of relationship we've managed to have. It began the moment I met you. So, whatever I'm doing to you, I'm sorry." He exhales as if he had been holding his breath. "I can only assume it’s a habit of your environment." He gestures toward all my textbooks. There is a brief pause, and as if he can't help it or it just popped into his head, he asks, "Has Marcus been in touch?" Ouch, topic change.
I block my guilt over Marcus from surfacing, and stifle my annoyance that he hasn't given me an opportunity to tackle his list of comments, complaints, and inquiries. It’s overwhelming.
"No, he hasn't."
I try to muster an excuse, because he can't know the truth about why this all has to be this way. I decide to apologize for everything, and hopefully he will take it for what it is and leave, because my psyche, job, and hormones can't take much more of this.
"I'm sorry about everything. The attitude and all. I'm on edge. I have this big test on Tuesday, and my whole life hinges on it. So, I have a lot on my mind. Also, you happen to be a distraction to my already chaotic life."
OK, good. It is kind of the truth. We don't need to talk about Marcus Gibbs, right?
"A good distraction?" he asks, smiling. Damn, his smiling is infectious, the arrogant ass.
"I haven't decided yet." I practically bat my eyelashes at him. Who are you and what have you done to badass secret agent Alex Turner, you lust-filled jezebel?
He rolls his eyes but still seems pleased.
"Alex, you are the most frustrating woman I have ever met. You are also the most challenging. I don't know why, but I am finding I like that. How is your studying going?"
I relax a bit even though I know I'm blushing. This topic I can handle.
"Great for the most part."
"You're an incredibly smart girl; I am sure you'll do great."
"You've only just met me." I fidget in my seat. He can't get to know me any better than he does. It's already too much.
"You're definitely smart."
"Thank you." I shrug. How can he be so sure? He doesn't know me.
"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"
Confused by the question, I perk up. "What wasn't?"
"Not arguing with me." I laugh and so does he.
He hums his approval at the sound. "See, that is much better."
I purse my lips into a smile and look him directly in the eye. What am I going to do?
"Mr. Hunt—"
"Jeremy, please. I think we have moved passed formalities. Or at least I hope we have."
"Hmm."
What am I doing flirting with this beautiful man? My life doesn't allow for a love interest. Hell, the one I have is currently kaput, and this could derail my job and future.
&nb
sp; Yes, this man could derail me. His adorable smile and boyish blue eyes would derail me if he railed me. Ha! My subconscious laughs at my wit.
"Would you like to get out of here? Maybe get some sustenance for your studying mind?" he asks, tearing me away from my inner monologue. As I look at him, I realize even though the words sound confident, I can see behind those crystal depths that he is nervous. He should be.
"You don't want to take me out," I say. I plead with my eyes for him to go away. I try to tell him with a glance that I am dangerous, no good, and entirely unavailable.
He shakes his head as if rejecting the statement. "Excuse me, but I think I should be the judge of that."
Why can't I stop smiling while I talk to him? I don't like that I am becoming more relaxed around him, because it leaves my wandering heart more vulnerable. I have worked too damn hard encasing that beating life force into a steel box.
His eyes are the distracting gray color of the ocean, and I'm finding it hard to wrap my lips around my words.
"I-I mean ... you shouldn't pursue me, Jeremy." It's the damned truth!
"You think I am going to give up now? I'm so close." He looks disgruntled. He opens his mouth to speak, then shuts it to think, but eventually continues. "I don't know what more I'd have to do other than to flat out tell you that I would like to take you out on a date. Tell me why I shouldn't take you out, and don't say Marcus, because for me that is not a good enough reason."
What is the appropriate answer to this? I have to think about it.
Oh! Because I am an undercover federal agent trying to seduce your best friend to find out when and to whom he is selling the biological weapon that he manufactured under the roof of your own company.
Before I can respond, he asks bashfully, "Don't you like me, Alex?"
My face is unchanged, though his words throw me off balance. "Don't ask me things like that." I'm embarrassed, which is a feeling I don't know well, or know how to deal with.
"You don't like being vulnerable, do you?"
"That is an understatement."
"Maybe you could learn to be with me."
It’s not that easy.
I sigh. "Jeremy, it’s more than that. I don't want you to get attached. I wish I could explain, but I can't."
"Or do you not want to get attached?" He winks! He's too good at this.
My teeth grab at my bottom lip with an unknown fear. I don't like fear.
I sit up in my seat, squaring my shoulders and trying to get a hold of myself.
"My job doesn't really allow me the time, and the place I'm headed may not be fitting for any sort of ... relationship."
"I could say the same about my job, but you don't see me walking—or in your case running—away."
His words make me wince. He may be joking, but his words are truer than I'd like. I sigh, letting my arms fall onto the table.
Without a second thought, he confidently takes hold of my hand, and there it is, this electric current. I suppress the desire for more. What is happening? Normally, when a stranger reaches out to touch me, it makes me want to dislocate their shoulder, but he feels comforting. It bothers me, but only because it is a new sensation. I pull my hand out of his grasp, and place it under the table. It feels like something I am supposed to do, rather than what I want.
I peer into his eyes, and I can see him gauging my response in a wounded manner. I think he is holding his breath. His eyebrows furrow, and he no longer looks like a hotshot CEO, but a young kid, scared to hear what comes next.
His sculpted mouth distracts me as it hangs partially open in anticipation. I have the urge to lean in and kiss him, but I refrain.
Since when does Agent Alex Turner have the urge to kiss anyone?
Every part of my professional being is telling me no, but I want to see what he has to offer. He has me reeling for more of him.
I sigh and I am hoping for a compromise, though I know I am bending the rules to make it convenient for me. I am selfish and I know it.
"Can we try not to get attached to each other? Can you refrain from doing things like kissing me, touching me, whatever? You need to try to keep your distance from me. This is a warning. I'd like to spend time with you but I don't want—I don't need—something to commit to. I am not a girl you should get tangled up with. Can we be friends?" I look him dead in the eye and decide to beat him at his own game. "People tend to fall in love with me, and I don't want to break your heart."
He smiles this triumphant boyish grin. Oh my. He sputters a laugh of shock.
"Hmm, for some reason, I believe you. We can take this slow. Right now, I want you any way I can get you. Let's go to my place, watch a movie, order a pizza, and that's it. Innocent. I won't even touch you. I promise."
I don't believe him, but it makes me giddy.
Agent Turner, do you even know what it means to be giddy?
I shake my head, dumbfounded by this man, and consider his offer.
My cell phone buzzes, breaking my train of thought. The phone sitting between us reveals a text message from Marcus Gibbs:
Hey there, how's it going? Wanna get some drinks tonight?
My stomach clenches as I peer up into the, again, wary blue icebergs that are Jeremy's eyes. He knows it's Marcus, and that right now I am going to have to choose between them. Before I can think, I blurt out, "A movie sounds great." What are you doing?
It all becomes worth it when Jeremy bestows his pantie-dropping grin upon me, and before I can make a move, he is piling up my textbooks and putting them in my backpack for me. My grin is embarrassing as I watch him acting out how smitten I feel on the inside.
I get up from my seat, and Jeremy grabs my hand and pulls me outside. What happened to the I-promise-I-won't-touch-you thing? But I don't protest one bit.
I tuck my phone in my pocket without giving it a second glance and follow Jeremy out the door.
Derek is going to kill me.
CHAPTER SIX
Risky Business
ALEX TURNER
His smile is so incredible that it has my special-ops-trained knees wobbly. I feel like I am coming down with an illness or something. I take a deep breath to regain my balance. I am a girl defined by control, and I need to get a grip. He's involved in my assignment. I can't be so careless. Too late.
"Do you have a car?" he asks.
What is happening still baffles me. I stumble with my words and forget what language to use.
"Sim, eu faço ... I mean, yes, yes, I do. Except I prefer to take public transit when I can, sooo ... not today." Smooth.
I exhale, frustrated. I want to hit myself. Did I really almost speak Portuguese to Mr. Big Shot? Why don't I whip out my gun and badge while I'm at it, and ruin everything?
He looks confused. "Did you just—?"
"No." I cut him off. God, help me.
He laughs at me for a moment and says, "Yes, you did. What language was that?"
I chew my lip and I am glad it wasn't Arabic; I would not have a legitimate answer for that one. I know Portuguese because the only family I have—had—was my great-aunt who barely spoke English.
"Um, it was Portuguese. I'm half." I manage a weak smile, because it is at least the truth.
Without missing a beat, he responds with, "No wonder you're so beautiful."
I don't like the comment for a variety of reasons, and I cannot stop my immediate response. I roll my eyes.
He yanks at my arm, halting our stride. It shocks me, because it is simply a glimmering insight into who Jeremy really is. His demeanor, playful only moments ago, has shifted. He is stern-CEO with his face set into a hard line, but his angular features are so sharply beautiful that he has me mesmerized.
"You need to learn to take a compliment." Even though his icy stare is supposed to strike fear, it manages to egg me on.
"Well, if I thought it was genuine, maybe I would."
He still isn't willing to let go of my hand as I try to tug it away.
"I think
you are beautiful," he says, forceful but soft. I am trapped in his gaze, and my mouth goes dry. "I know you work in an environment where people may say that to you all the time, but I don't use the word lightly, OK?"
Oh, he still thinks I am a waitress—how could I forget?
Before letting me respond, he takes his free hand, runs his long fingers down my face, and traces his thumb over my bottom lip as if I am some cherished being.
Who is this guy? My training never prepared me for this.
I pull away and we continue our walk. This man has somehow destroyed my ability to filter myself. "You need to know that I can't do this; I'm no good for you." Let’s try this one more time.
We finally make it to his car. He opens the passenger door to his white, high-end Lexus for me and places my backpack inside.
His lips twist with amusement as he helps me climb into the car. "I can't see how that is possible."
His playful mood is back, and I find it gives me a sense of reassurance. "You don't know me. I wish I could tell you more but I can't." I wish it didn't have to be this way. He is too intertwined in my job. He practically is my assignment. What have I gotten myself into?
"Well, let me get to know you."
He's about to shut the door, and I manage to speak before it slams closed. "I am just going to hurt you!"
I can see Jeremy's baffled expression through the tinted windows. He comes around, opens the driver side door, gracefully slips inside, and starts the engine.
"I don't see that happening. I don't think you will hurt me." His tone is sincere. His face searches mine for a moment before he pulls the car out of the parking spot. I watch him in silence.
I think I must be chewing my lip raw now. "Jeremy, if I hurt you, it would not be intentional. You don't know what I am capable of."
The professional flirt he is, he turns to look at me as his eyes heat. "I want to know what you're capable of," he says. He flashes me his wry smile before looking back to the road.
I reward him with one of my own. "You're not hearing me. You won't understand and I can't explain it, but I am honestly dangerous, Jeremy."
We reach a red light, and he looks at me, ready to laugh. His eyes flit over my body as if sizing me up as a threat. By the look on his face, it seems he comes to the quick conclusion that I’m not.