by Kadie Scott
Drew waited him out silently.
Max pulled up abruptly. “No.”
Drew slowed and turned to face his friend. “You’re refusing to help me out?”
“I’m refusing to help you make a bad choice. You’re interested in her,” he accused.
He was playing the “good friend” card? “No, I need to get in good with her to do this right.”
Without comment, they picked back up on their run, moving along in the kind of silence men employed when they were both pissed—heading for their metaphorical man caves.
After another lap around the track, Max lifted his gaze heavenward and groaned. “I’m going to burn for this, I just know it.” He slowed the pace a bit. “I don’t use any moves. Not like you’re thinking anyway.”
Drew couldn’t help but smile. “Okay. What do you do?”
“I’m open and I listen.”
What did that mean? “Is that code for something, because I don’t get it.”
Max grinned. “Open means you smile and you respond. You don’t stare at people and say nothing. That makes them uncomfortable.”
“I don’t stare—”
“You stare.”
So he stared. He did that when he was in any new situation, studying everything he could about it, gathering data to be used when needed. But, Cassie never acted uncomfortable around him. Sometimes she stared at him in return, or sometimes she filled the silence for him. “Smile and respond. Got it.”
“And listening is just that. Women like to talk. Listen—I mean seriously listen, like asking questions to find out more.”
“I do that.”
Max snorted. “You listen until you’ve formed your own opinion or answer, then bark a question at them, sometimes before they’ve stopped talking. I’m talking about a conversation, not an interrogation.”
Drew didn’t deny it. Cassie had already accused him of that very thing. Again, she hadn’t seemed put off by it necessarily. “Smile, respond, ask questions. That’s it?” His book had thirty chapters full of instruction, and Max’s only advice boiled down to four words.
Max shrugged. “Works for me.” Almost as if to prove his point, he directed a wide smile at the brunette as they passed her. And she smiled right back.
That’s all it took? “There has to be more to it.”
Another shrug. “Hell if I know.”
Drew silently wrote off Max’s ability with women to luck, maybe combined with his “no commitment” attitude when it came to women, which probably made him a challenge.
I’ll stick to my book, he decided.
Max jogged along beside him, oblivious to his thoughts. “A woman who speaks Drew…” he mused. “Too bad you have to put her away.”
Chapter Five
“Why would you index the data first when you could just use a hashing strategy?” Cassie demanded. “The regression testing clearly shows reduced performance.”
Drew gesticulated to the screen as if that held the source of the answer. “Because indexing makes lookups even faster, which is much more effective for analyzing the input.”
She did her own pointing. “But it blows up the memory footprint.”
“Which we don’t care about because—”
“Why don’t you two get a room?” someone close to them called out, interrupting a debate that had been heating up for the better part of twenty minutes.
After a few weeks of working together, it happened a lot. They’d been sitting in Drew’s cube attempting—and failing—to come to a mutually agreed upon route to the answer. They hadn’t even started the analysis yet.
Cassie snapped her mouth shut, but couldn’t contain the snicker that escaped. Maybe sexual innuendo was contagious?
Drew was the only person whose words could take her mind down that dirty road. Every time he lobbed one of those lines at her—hilarious when she could tell he didn’t mean to, and sexy as all get out when he did—she couldn’t help lobbing one back. She found the back and forth more stimulating than fighting with him over their work.
She cleared her throat, turned back to the screen, and in a more modulated tone, said, “I think—”
“I think we need a break.”
She frowned. “But we’ve got to get this done.”
Instead of arguing back, Drew gently took her by the chin, turning her to face him instead of the computer. “A break will do us good, Cassie.”
Only they didn’t move, and he didn’t take his hand away. He stared down at her with an expression close to frustrated, or confused, with a lick of heat that found an answering warmth moving through her in a slow burn.
In a haze, she wondered what he’d do if she leaned closer to lick the sexy hollow at the base of his throat. He swallowed, his throat contracting, and she wondered if he’d had the same thought.
He hadn’t lowered his hand, and now he brushed his thumb over her cheek in a barely there caress that stole the breath from her lungs. Was he going to kiss her? God, she wanted him to. The warmth from his body, now closer to hers, seemed to surround her.
She was so horribly tempted…but they were also at the office.
“You’re right,” she blurted as she jerked back. The cube walls shook as her chair bumped into the one behind her, but oh well. Anything to keep herself from acting out her impulses.
“About what?” Drew asked, his voice low and gravelly.
“About indexing the data. We’ll need that for the inputs we’re getting from…” Cassie trailed off.
Fahrvergnügen. She’d just been about to blurt out about the additional data inputs Kevin had told her about. But they weren’t part of Drew’s view of the project and she’d been told to keep them strictly confidential. Need to know only.
“From where?”
Cassie shook her head, scooting back up to face the computer. “Never mind. So…data indexing?”
He stared at her for a long, uncomfortable moment, his gaze oddly assessing, then followed her lead and scooted around as well. “Right. Data indexing. And then a break.”
He added a muttered comment, something that sounded like “from each other.” She ignored the sting those words caused, because she agreed. She just needed a few minutes to convince herself she agreed.
Four hours later, they were still there, pounding out the last of the code they’d need to scrub the data before they started their initial analysis, when the lights in the office suddenly went out.
“What the hell?” Drew mumbled.
“Oh bananas. The lights are motion-activated after six. When there are only one or two people in the office, they tend to go off.”
Drew didn’t respond. Instead, he rose slowly to his feet, causing the lights to flicker back on, and surveyed the floor. She stood as well. Not another soul. Had they been so wrapped up in what they were doing, they hadn’t noticed everyone else clearing out for the day?
She glanced at the clock on the bottom corner of her monitor and tried not to let disappointment seep in, even if her heart wilted and the prospect of the rest of the night loomed like a boring swath of time in front of her. “It’s after eight. I guess we should go.”
She stood and started gathering her things, making a conscious effort not to react to how close he was standing.
Drew watched her for a moment. “How about we take this to the coffee shop downstairs? I still owe you a coffee and we need to eat. My treat?”
She stared up at him and nibbled at her lip, debating.
He took her by the arms to get her attention. “Cassie, dial-up internet doesn’t take this long.”
She shook her head and took a deep breath, her breasts brushing against him with the action. His hands tightened on her arms. Did he want to drag her closer? Because that’s what was in her head.
She tried to swallow down the butterflies suddenly trying to flutter their way out of her stomach. “You really want to keep going?”
“I could go all night.”
By his miniscule flin
ch, she guessed he hadn’t meant to put that one out there.
She found the unintentional ones the most adorable because she could see how secretly annoyed with himself he got. She liked the awkward side to him. He was too dang good-looking and scary brilliant. The awkward made him…human…and safe in a strange way.
He frowned. “Unless you have a date or something.”
Cassie held back a humorless snort with effort. Snorting wasn’t ladylike, according to her mother. “Not tonight.” Not most nights, unless you counted her dates with characters from her favorite Sunday night television shows. Though Rick Grimes was slowly being supplanted by a know-it-all, blue-eyed nerd.
“Any pets?”
Cassie made a face. “No.” She was all out of snappy comebacks. “I’m all yours.”
Now she was the one throwing unintentional bombs into the conversation. After a quick, assessing look, Drew grabbed up his own things. Twenty minutes later, they’d settled in a booth at the back of the nearly empty shop, surrounded by the aromatic scent of the coffee beans. Cassie wasn’t all that hungry, so she only ordered a cup of soup. Drew ordered a huge club sandwich with all the trimmings. By unspoken agreement, they didn’t pull out their laptops right away, getting to the business of eating first.
“Why no pets?”
Cassie blinked and glanced up, mid-slurp. “What?”
“You mentioned you don’t have any pets. I was wondering why? You seem like a pet kind of person.”
His insight surprised her. She shrugged. “I am, but two of my brothers were allergic.”
“But you wanted one?” he pressed.
“I’ve always wanted a dog, actually. Ever since Tess Milford got one in third grade. How’d you guess?”
Drew winked. “I pay attention. And I told you, you seem like a pet person. So why not get one now?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but closed it when he jumped in. “Do you have a roommate who’s also allergic?”
“No. But—”
“Or maybe your building doesn’t allow it?”
She chuckled and Drew stopped short. After a pause, he grimaced. “I’m interrogating you again.”
Cassie reached across the skinny Formica table and placed her hand over his. “You were doing great until that last bit.”
He gave her a self-deprecating smile and glanced away. “It’s a work in progress.” Then she thought she caught the word, “Max.” Whatever that meant. He shoved his sandwich in his mouth, not looking at her.
She waited until he raised his gaze to hers. “I don’t mind it. It’s kind of…cute, actually.”
“Cute?” His thick brows lowered, and, even around a mouthful of food, his disdain for that word came across loud and clear.
“You got a problem with cute?”
He swallowed and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I might.”
“Too bad.”
“What about intimidating or manly?”
Cassie laughed. “Nope.”
“Cute is better than annoying, I guess,” he grumbled.
“Definitely not annoying.” What would he say if she told him she found him sexy? Lick-him-like-a-lollipop-should-be-licked sexy.
Drew went from unimpressed to arrested, alert gaze suddenly intent on her face. “What?”
Oh, gorgonzola on a stick. She’d said part of that out loud. Cassie thought fast and scrambled to switch back to the topic she’d been avoiding earlier. “I work too much to have a pet. I’d feel bad leaving a dog home all day and often into the evening.”
After a brief pause, he didn’t call her on the change of subject. “What kind of dog do you want?”
“A Cairn Terrier.” She didn’t even have to think about it.
“That’s…specific. Why?”
“They’re precious. They’re supposed to be very intelligent, but also good with families.”
“You’re thinking about having kids? I didn’t know you were seeing someone.”
How to answer that question without appearing like this month’s calendar girl for the lonely-hearts club? She tipped her head. “I want a family dog because my brothers have lots of kids. I couldn’t bring him around Connor or Caleb, but the others wouldn’t mind. Plus maybe, some day in the not too distant future, I will too. But no plans for that any time soon. Mostly I’d love a something to come home to and snuggle with at night.”
…
Drew did his best to track the current topic, but his brain—and his dick—were still stuck on her mumbling something about licking a lollipop…in reference to him. Based on the way his entire body had gone hot, then hard, her licking anything sounded like a brilliant idea.
The problem was, he was on an op. And he was investigating her for cybercrimes. A good agent would continue to use her tell to his advantage, no matter how uncomfortable it made her.
A good agent who wasn’t already balancing on a knife-edge of getting too close to his mark, anyway.
He liked everything about Cassie—her impressive mind, her quick wit, and the way she made his body hum. Her smart complimented his smart in an even better way than how her awkward mirrored his own. Crazy funhouse mirror style, but still the same.
How could he push her buttons to further the investigation without getting caught up in the deception or compromising his own integrity?
“Drew?” Her husky voice snagged at his nerves, rasping over them and making him want to hear his name pour from her lips in an entirely different situation.
Think, you ass. What was she talking about? Right. Dogs. “I grew up with dogs.”
She smiled. “Lucky.”
“Yeah. I like dogs.” Mentally he smacked his palm to his head. I like dogs? How inane could he get? If he wasn’t subjugating her to a military tribunal, he was about as interesting as a piece of dry toast. You could lead a man to a book about communicating with women, but you couldn’t turn him into Don Juan overnight.
“What kind?” Cassie didn’t seem to notice or find his comment boring, though. Unless she was doing a bang up job hiding her thoughts, which he doubted, knowing her.
“Rustbucket was a German Shepherd. He died a few years ago, after the vet found a tumor in his hip.”
Her lips parted in a sympathetic gasp. “That’s so sad. I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. He was mostly my dog, although after I went off to the Air Force Academy, he stayed with my mother. Now all she has left is Taffy.”
What was he doing? He should be using this time, and her apparent comfort with him, trying to gather more information. Not sharing his life story.
Watch yourself, Kerrigan.
“What kind of dog is Taffy?” she asked around a spoonful of soup.
Drew pulled out his cell phone. “She’s a chug.”
“What the heck is a chug?”
“A Chihuahua mixed with a pug. She’s fifteen years old and still a sweetie. Big on snuggling.” He winked at Cassie. “You’d like her.”
He scrolled through the images in his phone’s photo gallery and pulled up one of Taffy.
“She’s adorable. Just look at that gray face.”
Drew smiled. And not because Max had told him to, or the book suggested it.
“Is that your mother?” She pointed to the woman in the picture holding Taffy.
“Yes.”
Cassie held up the phone and glanced back and forth between the screen and him. “I see the resemblance. You got her eyes and her nose.”
“And her stubborn streak.”
Cassie feigned shock. “What? Stubborn? You?”
“I know. I hide it well.”
She sniggered.
“According to Mom, I got my build and my laugh from my father.” He’d seen pictures, so he had to agree with the build. “I don’t remember his laugh.” He shrugged. “So I’ll take that on faith.”
She handed the phone back, and he did his best not to brush his fingers against hers as he took it.
“Do you see your mom often?”
Another shrug. “Not as much as I’d like—every three or four months or so—but I call her almost every day.”
Cassie sat back and grinned. “Does your mom happen to be a big talker?”
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “Why?”
“I’m picturing those conversations. I think this is the most words you’ve used in a conversation with me since we met. Unless you count arguing with me over work.”
Did she find him too closed off? Drew gave a self-conscious grin and shrugged. “I know I don’t say much.”
“Oh, you say a ton. Just not always with words.” Rather than judgment, he could only hear a fond acceptance in her voice. Her blue-green eyes were clear and open.
Why did he suddenly want to smile like a loon? Maybe because only a small handful of people understood and accepted him like she seemed to. “Most people say I’m difficult to read.”
“Not if you pay attention.” She smiled. “And maybe it takes another computer geek. That might help, too.”
They shared a mutual moment of understanding and a warmth settled in his chest that he didn’t want to address. Not yet. Especially not while he was still working out how to get into her head.
“I see you, too, you know.” Dammit. Where had that come from?
Cassie flushed. “Oh?”
Too late to take it back, but maybe he could keep it casual. “You’re extremely stubborn and suspicious.”
“Lovely.” But she smiled as she shook her head. “We have that in common, I guess.”
Relieved that she hadn’t called him on his bullshit, Drew relaxed a bit. “I guess we do.”
“Of course, I could do without your habit of arguing with…everything.” Her smile took the sting out of the words.
“I don’t argue with everything,” he insisted. “Just the important stuff.
“Which includes everything, apparently.”
He shook his head. “Actually, I enjoy our exchanges.” Now why had he admitted that?
She lowered her eyes. “If I’m honest, I like arguing with you, too.”
Her admission struck at something deep inside him. Unable to resist any longer, he reached across the table and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Touching her was not part of the plan, but he needed to. “You don’t?”