by Jamie Denton
“You wouldn’t say that if you ever met my folks,” she told him dryly. “They’re not what I’d call traditionalists.”
“You realize a statement like that requires explanation.”
She plucked the lime from the bottle and twisted the juice into her mug while searching for the right words to describe her unorthodox upbringing. “When my parents weren’t hauling my sister and me around with them to anti-something marches, sit-ins or protests for the cause of the week, a small horse ranch near the Alleghenies was home. In between all that raising of social consciousness, my sister and I were homeschooled until we were old enough for high school, then sent off to public school strictly for the collegiate opportunities. Dad trained horses and worked as a farrier, and my mom was the poster child for über-homemaker before the concept was considered vogue.”
A brief shadow passed through his eyes. “There are worse things in life,” he said quietly.
Speaking from experience? she wondered. “Not when you’re sixteen and all you want to do is fit in and be like everyone else. I bet your dad never staged a protest outside of your high school cafeteria in support of fair wages for migrant farm workers.”
“No,” he said. “I can’t say that he did.”
She poured beer into her glass and smiled at him. “I rest my case. It has been my parents’ mission in life to serve up social consciousness with a double order of antiestablishment rhetoric on the side. Obviously I rebelled by becoming a federal agent.”
“That must’ve gone over well.”
“My dad nearly had a stroke.” She laughed to soften the edge of cynicism in her voice. “It really wasn’t as bad as I’m making it sound. They are proud of me, even if they didn’t exactly celebrate my choices. But, they do support individuality so they accepted that I had made the right decision for me. When I went into the coast guard, they did flip out, which was nothing compared to when I announced I’d applied to the Bureau.”
“What did you expect? You joined forces with the evil empire,” he said, his smile deepening.
“That’s one of the more PG-13 expressions my dad has used to describe the government, yes. I was raised to question authority if it went against my beliefs, fight the good fight in peaceful demonstration and to express myself and my thoughts freely without fear of censorship. That’s not exactly what they teach us at the academy, is it?”
Duncan hadn’t intended to discuss the Bureau or her investigation tonight. He wanted to know more about the woman who’d been a constant in his thoughts since this morning, but he was enjoying the glimpse she’d given him into her background. “Not when I passed through Quantico, they didn’t.” He lifted the bottle and took a long drink. “So,” he said after a moment, “why did you become an agent?”
Her golden eyebrows winged upward. “Other than a burning desire to save the world from evildoers?” she asked in mock innocence.
“That would be the one I’m interested in, yes,” he said and set the bottle back on the table.
The waiter returned with their appetizer, a platter overflowing with deep-fried coconut shrimp, pineapple spears, mango slices and a variety of dipping sauces. He vanished as silently as he’d appeared.
“I have a knack for solving puzzles.”
He didn’t miss the sudden sharpness of her tone, or how she lowered her gaze to concentrate on adding a selection of shrimp and tropical fruits to her plate. He knew how to spot a bullshit story when he stepped in one, and from her abrupt response, he guessed there was more than she felt comfortable divulging.
“I’ll remember to call you next time I’m stumped by a crossword puzzle,” he said, keeping it light.
She lifted her gaze to his. The hint of a smile teasing the edges of her mouth, had him wondering if he’d imagined the chill in her voice.
“Word searches are my forte,” she said. “Or trivia. I’m a hopeless Jeopardy junkie.”
“A wealth of useless information, is that it?”
“A whole lot about nothing.” Her smile widened a fraction and the warmth slowly returned to her eyes.
He stared at her mouth, overwhelmed by the sudden urge to kiss her again. Grabbing hold of his fork, he stabbed a fat shrimp. “Having a wide base of knowledge is nothing to be ashamed of.”
“It’s not going to win me any awards.” She popped a chunk of pineapple into her mouth. Sweet juice coated her lips and she used the tip of her tongue to collect the moisture.
He shifted on his side of the booth. Forget kisses. Kissing was highly overrated compared to the images flashing through his mind of exactly where he’d like to see her mouth and that pretty pink tongue. Much more interesting, erotic images that were sending his testosterone levels through the imitation thatched roof.
“It’s not like there’s a huge demand for agents with my particular talent,” she added in the same dry tone she’d used earlier.
He’d bet she had plenty of skills the Bureau wouldn’t be interested in, and the idea of him being the one to exploit those particular talents was making him hard. How was it that he had the feeling he’d known her forever, when in reality it’d been less than a day? He couldn’t remember ever feeling so…so… He searched his mind for the right word. Connected, he decided.
He consciously shoved that eerily dangerous thought from his mind. “Criminal investigation requires a certain attention to detail,” he said as conversationally as he could manage.
“I suppose.” She popped a slice of mango into her mouth, seemingly oblivious to his train of thought. “Even if it wasn’t exactly what I’d been hoping for, the promotion to CID was an important career step.”
“Aiming for the director’s job, are you?” he asked, before polishing off another shrimp. Ambition. A philosophy he understood and subscribed to himself.
“Not quite.” She set her fork on her plate and reached for the mug of beer she’d poured. “I want ISU.”
“Profiling?” he blurted. “You?”
She gave him a sharp glance. He hadn’t meant to make it sound as if she weren’t good enough to make ISU, but her admission took him by complete surprise. She wasn’t much bigger than a mite and looked as if a stiff wind could blow her into the next county. ISU took a hard-core approach to hard-core crime, a survival tactic he imagined necessary for coping with the grisly details of the job.
“Why is that so hard to believe?” Defensiveness laced her voice. “Because I’m a woman?”
Not wanting to stomp all over her feminist toes, he considered his response carefully. The truth was, he just couldn’t imagine her lasting for more than a year or two. A job like that got to a person. It was no secret the agent credited for making the unit what it was today eventually cracked under the strain. Hell, it had nearly killed the guy.
Duncan pushed his empty plate aside. Buying time, he took a long pull on his beer before answering. “Gender has nothing to do with it,” he eventually said. “What are the longevity stats? The burnout ratio for unit personnel is probably the highest in the Bureau.”
She set her fork on the edge of her plate. “Some profilers do last longer than others,” she conceded. “But it’s what I’ve always wanted and I intend to have it.”
“But why?” he couldn’t help asking, if for no other reason than to learn more about what made this woman tick. “If run-of-the-mill bad guys aren’t enough of a challenge, transfer to organized crime. It’s no safer, but at least you won’t wake up screaming in the middle of the night.”
Determination made her eyes glitter like hard green crystals. “The reason I wanted to be an agent was so I could become a profiler,” she said, her tone as hard as the look in her eyes. “After I left the coast guard, I knew I needed a degree in criminal justice to be considered for employment, but that alone wouldn’t be enough for ISU. I picked up a double in psych so I’d be a step ahead of the competition. I’ve made no secret of the fact that ISU is what I’ve always wanted. And, I’m a lot closer now. If I can bust the Seducer, that’ll give me even m
ore of an edge.”
“Apparently you’ve given this a lot of thought.” What else could he say? Far be it from him to burst her professional bubble, even if he did see her teetering on the verge of making a monumental mistake. He’d been there. Just from the time he’d spent with her, he knew she was as dedicated to the Bureau as he’d once been. ISU would burn her out, and then what would she have? Not that he had any right to voice his opinion. With his own less-than-sterling record, he was hardly in a position to offer her career advice.
“Yes, I have,” she firmly stated. “I asked for SEDSCAM for a reason. Which reminds me…about those two cases you’re handling in addition to Wilder—”
“Sunny?”
“Yes?”
“Let’s not talk shop tonight, okay?” Locating the property stolen from the Seducer’s victims was important to him, more so now than ever after his conversation with his brother, but now wasn’t the time. Besides, he wasn’t so wrapped up in lust for her that he’d feed her information without a guarantee he’d be in on her investigation, provided they did share more cases in common.
She let out a gentle sigh. “Sorry,” she apologized. Her expression turned sheepish. “I tend to get overly passionate on occasion.”
Passionate was good. Very good, in fact.
He reached across the table and settled his hand over hers. “So,” he said, smoothing his thumb over the back of her hand. “Tell me what else makes you passionate.”
9
“THIS IS HARDER than I thought it would be,” Duncan complained good-naturedly.
Sunny gave him an encouraging smile. “Your technique is good.” Better than good, she thought. The guy was nothing short of a pro. “Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”
“Until you,” he teased, “I was as pure as the driven snow.”
She laughed heartily, as she’d been doing for most of the night. Whether it was the carnival atmosphere of the miniature golf course giving her a more lighthearted feeling than usual, or the company of the man she couldn’t seem to stop touching at every opportunity, she didn’t know, and quite frankly, she didn’t much care.
“Somehow I doubt that,” she said dryly.
His eyes filled with hunger when he looked at her, leaving her with the distinct impression they were no longer discussing his golf technique. A heaviness settled low in her tummy. She hadn’t believed it possible for her to experience such insistent need for someone she’d only met, but from the look simmering in his eyes, the sentiment was decidedly mutual. By suggesting they play miniature golf after dinner when she had a perfectly good condo where they could’ve been alone, hadn’t been her brightest idea. Whatever had she been thinking?
She knew exactly what she’d been thinking—while she might be wildly attracted to him, she really didn’t know him all that well. Not wanting the evening to end too soon, the outdoor miniature golf complex, complete with a remote control racetrack, indoor arcade and the standard junk-food court, she’d passed on the way to the restaurant had seemed like a safe alternative. Not exactly the pleasurable pursuits she’d had in mind, but the time she’d spent with Duncan hadn’t been a waste. In addition to discovering he had a younger brother who worked at the agency with him, she’d also learned he’d been born in Shreveport, but had spent much of his childhood in Fort Worth. When she’d asked him how he’d ended up in the D.C. area, he’d explained that once he’d left the Bureau, he’d relocated north to be near his mother and brother.
“Show me again,” he said. “I have one shot left and I want it to count.”
“Oh, all right.” His helpless act had grown old over an hour ago, but she was bright enough at least to take advantage of the opportunity to get close to him again, to feel the texture of his skin under her hands, to breathe in his tantalizing masculine scent.
“Put your thumbs together lengthwise. Like this,” she instructed. She moved in close and eased her hands slowly over his. “It’ll strengthen your grip so your club won’t slip when you stroke like it did the last time.”
“We can’t have that,” he said.
The husky tenor of his voice, combined with the warm fan of breath against her ear sent a delightful shiver sliding down her spine. She turned her head to the side and stared at his mouth. “Just make sure you hold on…tight.”
Desire flared in his eyes.
She was playing with fire and loving every second of it. When he looked at her that way, she couldn’t think straight.
She stepped out of his way, not to give him room, but for her own sanity. The view of his backside as he bent over the club preparing to putt the golf ball through the lion’s mouth had her curling her bare toes into the patch of Astroturf.
He took his shot and made it on the first try, as he’d been doing all night long. The grin on his face when he looked at her over his shoulder was nothing short of triumphant. “That’s game, baby.”
She folded her arms and tilted her hip slightly to the side. “For someone who claims to have never played miniature golf,” she said skeptically, “you certainly beat the pants off me with no problem.”
“Now you’re talking.” He walked toward her, a definite predatory light in his gaze that sent her pulse careening. “Care to have another go and make it interesting this time?”
“Not a chance. You’ve played before. Come on, Duncan. Admit it.”
He took a step back, then with the putter gripped in his hands, he adjusted his stance as if he were stepping up to a tee on the back nine. She gasped when he swung the club with the precision form of a seasoned pro. “You’re a liar. How long have you been playing?”
“Tonight was my first time.” His heart-stopping grin was anything but innocent when he wrapped his arm around her waist and hauled her against him. “But I’ve played real golf for years.”
Every nerve ending in her body came instantly and even more vibrantly alive at the contact. Her breasts swelled, and the sharp tug of desire in her belly made her damp with need. “You cheated,” she said, but the whispered words sounded more like an invitation than the playful accusation she’d intended.
Ducking his head, he brushed his lips over hers in a feathery kiss before letting her go. “I did, didn’t I?”
“You’re shameless.” Needing to catch her breath, she scooted away from him to the stone bench where she’d dropped her shoes upon entering the final obstacle of the miniature golf course. She slipped her feet back into her shoes while watching him retrieve their discarded clubs, attempting to recall when she’d last enjoyed herself so thoroughly—with a man or otherwise.
Enjoying a night of fun, laughing, acting silly and simply connecting with another human on a purely personal level had been very long overdue, she decided. And there was the chemistry Duncan kept referring to which definitely continued to sizzle. She’d be a fool not to acknowledge the heightening awareness building between them in that regard, either.
But there was more and every time she tried to pinpoint the exact cause, the emotion she couldn’t name became even more elusive. For reasons that defied explanation, she suspected Duncan was at the root of the cause.
In no hurry to return to her place—alone—she leaned back on her hands and stretched her legs out in front of her as he joined her on the bench. Laughter and the hum of conversation from other golfers drifted toward them on the warm summer breeze. The revving of an engine from a hopped-up car sounded in the distance. Some teenage boy probably showing off in front of a pretty girl, she thought and smiled. What she wouldn’t give to recapture that time of innocence.
Duncan rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, the putters clasped loosely between his palms in front of him. “Tonight was fun. Thank you.”
“I just had that very same thought.”
Shouts from a group of teenagers near the outdoor entrance to the arcade across the way drew her attention. “Do you remember what it was like being that young?” she asked Duncan. “When your biggest worry was a te
rm paper or keeping your room clean enough so your mom wouldn’t nag you?”
“We couldn’t wait to grow up, could we? Convinced we’d do it differently. Better.” He let out a caustic bark of laughter. “We were so arrogant, thinking we could accomplish the impossible. Life is complicated. By responsibilities, ambitions, even fear.”
Realization slammed into her with the force of a freight train, leaving her momentarily breathless. The elusive emotion she’d been struggling to pinpoint suddenly became amazingly clear. The constant presence of fear she carried with her had mysteriously vanished.
Being with Duncan had accomplished what nothing, not the extra locks on her doors and windows, not the alarm systems or the precautions she took to ensure her safety, had done. With him, she felt safe, a sensation she hadn’t experienced with any degree of honesty in almost a decade. No wonder she didn’t immediately recognize it. The feeling had all but become foreign to her.
The how’s or why’s she couldn’t begin to hazard a guess. In time the answer would come to her, of that she had no concern. She was, after all, a whiz at solving puzzles.
The thought of puzzles instantly brought SEDSCAM to mind. However illogical, the idea of her and Duncan enjoying each other’s company tonight seemed almost obscene while the Seducer was still on the loose. The UNSUB was out there, somewhere, and so far she remained powerless in bringing an end to his cons. While she’d been flirting and engaging in age-old mating rituals, the UNSUB could already be setting up his next mark.
She let out a long sigh filled with frustration. “Duncan?”
“Hmm?” he answered lazily.
“I know you said you weren’t interested in talking shop, but I need to ask you a question. There’s something I have to know.”
Under the bright stadium lights of the outdoor complex, she had no trouble mistaking his hesitation, or his suddenly guarded expression. She forged ahead, anyway. “We’ve been trying to establish a geographic pattern for the Seducer, but haven’t had much luck,” she said. “It could be helpful to us if you told me which cities are involved in the claims you’re investigating.”