The Attraction Equation (Love Undercover)

by Scott, Kadie

  Unable to stop himself, Max lifted his free hand and brushed her tousled hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. She stared back at him. He could drown in her eyes, willing him to kiss her. The warmth in her gaze licked at him, urged him closer. Everything in Max’s body agreed, wanting him to move in, to claim her lips, to pull those sighs and little noises from her as he had the other night.

  Only he shouldn’t. Rules were rules, dammit, and he was already too involved. One kiss was one too many, and playing happy family tonight hadn’t helped any.

  Max pulled back, although the disappointment wilting the corners of her mouth almost had him chucking the fucking rules.

  But no. Tonight had been too intimate, too real. They needed distance.

  So he stood and pulled her to her feet. “You look exhausted. You should get some rest.”

  He scooped T-Bone up and placed the dog in her arms, then opened the door, perhaps a little more hastily than manners allowed for, and pushed her gently out into the hall.

  Gina flashed him a surprised glance, which he ignored. He needed to get her out of his apartment before he did something monumentally stupid.

  Like pull her back inside and show her how much he wanted her to stay. All night long. She’d look fucking amazing naked under those twinkling lights.

  And he was losing his grip with every passing day.

  Chapter Nine

  Max lifted a hand to knock at Gina’s door, but paused. His level of anticipation was way off the charts compared to where it should be. He’d expected to look forward to tonight about as much as a tax audit, but instead, he was ten minutes early picking Gina up.

  He’d had more cold showers than hot the rest of the days leading up to the party, and had punished himself in the gym each night when he couldn’t sleep. Not to mention garnering plenty of complaints from Drew during their scheduled workout days. Even coworkers steered clear as he’d snapped more than a few times. The sooner this holiday was over and he could get things back to normal the better.

  “Girlfriend troubles?” Drew had asked the last time they’d met up.

  “When have I ever had those?” Max asked as they had jogged around the track, wary of the answer.

  “You’ve never had a girlfriend, so I’m assuming now.”

  Fair point.

  “The last time I pushed myself the way you are, I’d fucked things up with Cassie.”

  Max remembered, but that had been a bigger deal because Drew was in love with Cassie.

  Gina was funny and sweet, and sexy as hell. She gave as good as she got. But, most important, he didn’t love her. He’d decided a long time ago that a relationship wasn’t in his cards. What he felt for her was lust. Pure and simple…

  Okay, so maybe not so simple because of her current position in his life.

  He also couldn’t tell Drew any of it, because they still had to convince people she was his girlfriend. So he’d lied to his friend that day and said he was grappling with a tough case, which he was. That mind-numbing set of numbers hadn’t got any easier. The group he was after wasn’t stupid, and neither were the men who fixed their books. His constant mode of distracted wasn’t helping any, either.

  In the hopes of snapping out of it, he’d been avoiding Gina. A cowardly thing to do, maybe, but he’d broken too many damn rules already where she was concerned. Heaven forbid his interest in her turn genuine. Distance was a must.

  At least the time for their big date had arrived. Not a date. Their trial run at deceiving his friends and family.

  “Grow a fucking spine,” he muttered at himself, and knocked.

  The span of a heartbeat later, he was back to debating the idea of using Gina as his fake girlfriend. He practically had to scrape his jaw off the floor with a spatula, even while trying to hide his body’s immediate, hard reaction to her all dressed up for the evening.

  She’d gone with a slinky two-piece number—a white top paired with a figure-hugging black skirt which faded into varying shades of purple, red, yellow, then white at the bottom. The shiny material that begged to be touched hugged every glorious curve of her body, curves he’d had his hands on. Curves he wanted to sink into.

  Get your shit together, Carter.

  That wasn’t all. The dress was a two-piece, with the top sporting cutouts that showed swathes of skin at her midriff and shoulders. The skirt had a slit up to her thigh, which he wanted to push aside and see how high Gina would let him trail his fingers. Just for an extra kick to his balls, she’d worn bright red, sky-high, fuck-me heels. Her long hair had been curled and pinned back from her face, and her lips were the same shade as her shoes.

  And all Max could think of was how she’d look with nothing but those red lips and the heels. Graphic details of what he wanted to do to her pounded through him.

  Apparently, he waited too long to pull his head out of his ass, because she raised her eyebrows and the corners of her mouth dipped. Then she glanced down at her dress. “Too much?”

  “You’re gorgeous,” he said. Then cleared his throat, his words having come out more like a croak. He meant it sincerely, and more than he should. Where’d his famous reserve run off to?

  A sweep of pink color rose in her cheeks, and his gut clenched in response. Damn she was adorable when she blushed, and a strange satisfaction welled up inside him that he could make her with a few simple words.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled, sweetly. “Let me get my coat and purse.”

  She turned away, and he took a deep breath. One that did zero to steady him. I’m so fucked.

  While she was gone, he got a good look at her apartment. The modern décor was all Sabrina, but he could see what had to be Gina’s touches all over the place. Colorful jackets and scarves draped over the backs of chairs, her computer set up on the coffee table with haphazard piles of paper around it. A wonky little Christmas tree—it had to be the most pathetic one at the lot she’d gone to—decorated more like Mardi Gras than Christmas, all greens and purples and beads. In other words, colorful chaos.

  About what he’d expected. Max’s hand’s itched to at least hang up the jackets and straighten the papers. See? Not the girl for him. This would drive him nuts.

  She was back in a few seconds, hiding under a thick wool coat to ward off the December chill that had finally hit New York. It also served the purpose of hiding that dress and her body from view. Max managed to stuff the image of them tangled in his sheets—one even her mess couldn’t eradicate—to the back of his mind. They had a plan to execute.

  “Ready?” he asked after she locked up.

  “Let’s get this over with,” she muttered as she took his arm.

  Max hit the mental pause button and glanced down to take in her expression. Judging by the small pucker between her brows and pinched lines around her lips, Gina was still really nervous. Granted, neither of them was looking forward to this. Trying to fool a room full of FBI agents wasn’t exactly a cakewalk, but they needed the practice.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She blinked at him. “Sure.”

  “Because I’m sure that lipstick tastes great and all, but there’ll be food at the party,” he pointed out.

  Her shoulders slumped forward. “I just…I don’t want to mess this up for you.”

  His heart tripped up at those words, not what he’d been expecting. He was forcing her into this by holding her Christmas gift for her little brother—a good kid he now knew personally—for ransom, and she didn’t want to mess it up. Not for herself, though.

  For me. She doesn’t want to mess it up for me.

  “Maybe this is a bad idea.” He pulled them both up at the elevator. Then felt even more like an asshole at her stricken expression.

  “I can do this,” Gina assured him. Her hand tightened on his arm, her eyes pleading with him. “It’s just nerves. I’ll be fine.”

  I am an asshole.

  Max considered her for a long moment, debating. The ping announcing the arrival of th
e elevator signaled time was up. “Okay.”

  The party was being held at a local bar and grill only a few blocks from their apartment building, but he called a taxi, not wanting to make her walk in the cold or those shoes.

  The shocked stares from his colleagues when they showed up arm-in-arm would’ve been pretty damn funny. Except Max didn’t feel like laughing. Instead, he felt like a kid who wanted to take his toy and go home, a sudden possessiveness taking hold of him by the balls. Gina was his, and he didn’t want to share.

  Stop being a moron, Carter.

  As soon as she removed her coat, he was tempted to wrap her back up in it; that or tackle every man in the room who leered. These were his colleagues, for God’s sake, many of them married. What the hell was wrong with him?

  Max crushed the multitude of strange and inappropriate thoughts racing through him and pasted on his most pleasant smile. “Ready?”

  He moved toward the gathering of coworkers, but she tugged on his arm. He turned back to find her staring at the gathering, eyes wide and nervous. “I’m going to suck at this. I can’t act. You should get someone else.”

  No. Max hid his gut reaction behind a smooth smile and tucked an errant curl behind her ear. “Then don’t act.”

  “What?”

  “You know how to beat a lie detector?”

  She gave him a frown that said she was a tad worried he’d lost his mind. “No.”

  “Put a tack in your shoe and step on it every time you answer. It makes your body’s physiological responses register the same every time.”

  “Did you get that from a movie?” she asked.

  He laughed. “Maybe.”

  “I don’t have a tack handy at the moment,” she pointed out.

  “No. You have me.” He took her hand in his and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Just follow my lead.”

  He pulled back to find those big brown eyes watching him almost warily, a palpable tension kicking up between them.

  He cleared his throat. “See. It’s already working.”

  He turned back to the room. If he could negotiate all the intros without her figuring out he worked for the FBI or his colleagues figuring out she wasn’t really his girlfriend. Their odds of success were slim to none, but they’d at least figure out any holes in their story. It wasn’t like his family knew his coworkers, other than Drew, anyway.

  He led Gina up to a small group of folks who welcomed them with open smiles.

  “Max!” Lara Freeman, his boss’s wife, was the first to greet them. “I haven’t seen you in ages.” The older woman kissed his cheek. “And who is this?”

  Max put a hand at Gina’s back, her skin warm against his. “This is my date, Gina Castillo.”

  Tack scenario in mind, deliberately, he brushed his fingers over that tantalizing flesh at her waist peeping between her top and skirt. Gina’s lips parted as she flashed him a surprised look.

  He subtly jerked his head, indicating she should answer.

  Eyes wide, she managed to turn back to Lara and shake her hand. “Nice to meet you.” Her throat moved as she swallowed. “What do you do in the office?”

  Max breathed a small sigh of relief. The perfect person to ask that question. Total dead end that wouldn’t lead back to the FBI.

  “Oh, I don’t work with Max,” Lara said. “I’m John’s wife.” She pointed at her husband who was talking to another group.

  “Oh.” Gina glanced at Max, a question in her eyes.

  He leaned over and feathered a kiss over her shoulder, pulling a small gasp from her red lips. “John’s my boss,” he whispered in her ear.

  “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend, Max,” Lara murmured, watching their byplay with interest. “John,” she called to her husband. “Come meet Max’s sweetheart. He likes her a lot, I can tell.”

  Max kept the smile plastered on his face, though he wanted to close his eyes and groan. He’d forgotten how Lara’s voice could carry, and often did. Suddenly everyone turned their way.

  John, typical serious expression set deep in the crags of his face, made his way over and greeted Gina. Keeping with his plan to distract her, Max moved his hand up under the heavy fall of her hair to play with her neck.

  Lara shoved her husband’s shoulder. “Did you know Max had a girl?”

  John raised an eyebrow at his wife. “I don’t keep up with his love life.”

  Zach Seran, one of the more obnoxious agents in the office, joined them. “That because Max never dates the same girl twice, isn’t that right Max?” He clapped Max on the shoulder.

  “I guess he’s lucky he found me, then,” Gina spoke up. Defending him? Or herself?

  “At least we know he’s not gay.” Zach snorted at his own humor, obviously already drunk.

  A waiter with a tray of hors d’oeuvres passed through and kept Max from saying the first thing that came to mind.

  Gina went up on tiptoe to murmur in his ear. “The office rival?”

  Even as her warm breath across his skin snagged his attention, the comment surprised a laugh out of him, especially since she was semi-right. He turned his head, only she didn’t move back, so her lips were unbearably close. He just had to lean a little closer… Stop. “The office ass.”

  “And here I thought that might be you.” She winked and dropped down, taking those luscious lips with her.

  Max straightened.

  “So how long have you been dating?” Lara asked.

  “Six months,” Max hustled to answer before Gina, in case she forgot what they’d talked about.

  John, apparently not as enthralled with Max’s dating life as everyone else, moved on to a different topic. “I expected to have the Orsini case files on my desk before the party. But I didn’t see them. What’s the hold up?”

  Gina frowned at him. Had she caught the “case files” wording? Either way, he didn’t want to talk shop in front of her. Max had to think fast. “I thought we said Monday?”

  Now John was frowning because they hadn’t said Monday, and Max never made mistakes. But better that John think he’d finally made one tiny one rather than get into the details in front of Gina.

  “I’m going to introduce Gina to the rest of the team,” Max said before John could question him more.

  He wrapped his hand around her waist and moved them away.

  “Cases?” she asked as they were alone for a moment. “I thought you were in finance.”

  Play it cool, Agent Carter. He shrugged. “It’s more like auditing.”

  Her frown cleared up. “Oh. Like taxes and stuff?”

  “Something like that.” He turned to face her and pulled her in closer so she’d catch his lowered voice. “Just pretend like you already know what I do.”

  She scrunched up her nose, but nodded. “How am I doing so far?”

  “Great.” Those damn kissable lips were giving him ideas. “Maybe we should put on a small show, just to be sure.”

  He drew her closer with the barest pressure.

  “Show?” Her voice wavered.

  “A kiss.”

  “At an office party?” She glanced around. “Is that appropriate?”

  Who cared? “Just a quick one. I think Zach isn’t convinced yet.”

  Before she could protest further or look over at Zach, Max snuck in and pressed his mouth over hers. She whimpered, which drew a low groan from him.

  But then she put her hand up between them, pushing him back. “I think that should do it.” She stepped back, then laughed up at him—maybe the first real laugh he’d heard from her tonight—and stepped closer again.

  He thought she was going for another kiss, which he was more than happy to indulge. Instead she reached up and wiped his mouth with her thumb. “My lipstick leaves a real mark.”

  Hell, the woman was leaving her mark all over his life.

  To shut down any thoughts along those dangerous lines, Max hustled Gina over to another group of coworkers.

  “Is Max as organized
at home as he is in the office?” Brandon asked after introductions were made at the last group of people.

  What the hell? He’d thought he’d be dodging FBI references or fielding more questions about their relationship, but instead he was the one under the microscope.

  Gina snuck Max an amused glance. “His apartment is cleaner than mine.”

  Brandon laughed with her. “I guess it works. I’m new, but even I know Max is one of the guys who sets the bar.”

  “What do you do?” Gina asked.

  Fuck. If Brandon said bomb tech, he was up shit creek.

  “Would you like a drink?” Max interrupted.

  “Uh…” She shared a questioning glance with Brandon. “Sure.”

  Max grabbed her by the hand and tugged. “Let’s go. Talk to you later, man.”

  Brandon didn’t even finish a nod before Max whisked her away to a private booth in the corner. That was good enough for introductions. Luckily, Drew and Cassie were running late, which would give him a second to regroup before they faced their toughest audience.

  The fact that the table hid most of Gina from his view was a bonus, giving him a chance to gather his sanity around him like a cloak, because every touch he’d used to distract her was only adding to the aching need building inside him. Need that went bone deep.

  Max cleared his throat. “Other than a few shocked double-takes and jokes made at my expense, I think the introductions went pretty well.”

  “Yeah?” She glanced around at the party-goers. “That’s good. Right?”

  “Very good.” Max hid a grimace. He was coming off like a kid on his first date. Talking to women was never this hard.

  Spying a passing waitress, he flagged her down, mostly because he’d already mentioned a drink. Max glanced to Gina, who picked up the drinks menu on the table. “You go ahead,” she said.

  “I’ll have an 18-year Glen Livet, only two cubes of ice, please.”

  “That sounds good,” Gina glanced up, folding the menu. “Only make mine a Rusty Nail.”

  The waitress wrote it down and left them alone, but Max barely noticed, his attention on the woman across from him. Maybe he could get her talking until Drew arrived. Anything to take his mind off what the rest of her body looked like under that dress. “You like scotch?”