Now, she didn’t want to return to the living room, because more than likely that scent lingered. She’d never be able to get those images out of her head.
“What is the matter with me?” It’s not like she’d never seen an erection before. Her short-lived marriage with Todd had included a decent love life. She shouldn’t be reacting this way. She’d been turned on before, aroused and in love with the idea of making love. But then again, with Todd, it hadn’t been this…overpowering.
She pitched the peas back in the freezer and started making two club sandwiches. By the time Jace returned from his shower, she hoped much of the blush in her face had disappeared. His clomps down the stairs came much quicker than she expected.
Just ignore it. If she didn’t bring it up, then maybe they could proceed as though it never happened. She finished their plates with a serving of baby carrots and left out a jar of pickles and other sides. His unmistakable form stepped into the archway, but she refused to look up.
“I didn’t know if you preferred carrots or pickles or what. So, just pick whatever you want and dig in.” She grabbed her own plate and prayed her cheeks weren’t scorching red.
“Lynée,” he said, his voice so soft.
The heat built in her face again. Already. She had no choice. She looked at him.
Damp hair and refreshed, with a few strands falling over his forehead, he looked like a Sports Illustrated cover for women. The rugged mountain man edition. A real-life Rhett Butler if he lived in the Pacific Northwest.
“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he announced.
She flapped her hand in the air, hoping it wasn’t as shaky as her knees. “Not at all. Just biology, right?” She moved to the kitchen table and set aside a bunch of files, so they had space to eat. Certain to not glimpse at his impressive bulge. “I shouldn’t have stared.”
He sat across from her. “I took it as a compliment.”
“I bet you did.”
He lifted the bread off his sandwich and studied the inside. “Thanks for letting me use your shower. Did you come across anything with the game contacts?”
“Some.” She finished chewing, thankful for the subject change. “A lot of chatter about payments and bank accounts. It would make things easier if I had visibility into some of that info to connect these individuals together.”
He shook his head, putting the ingredients back together. “I can’t let you see that.”
“Come on. There’s so much info, and you can’t do it all on your own without it taking weeks and weeks. I can help wade through it to take less time. I’ll sign whatever NDA you want. Place my hand on the good book and vow silence to all except you, if it helps.”
He leaned his elbow on the table and stared at her. “You’re willing to do all this just so Skye can return faster?”
“Of course. Wouldn’t you do the same—and more—for your best friend?”
He chomped on a carrot, clearly studying her and considering the idea. Hopefully, it was enough. “All right. You must sign an NDA, and you can’t print anything with bank account numbers. Not a single scrap of paper. No screenshots, and you can’t save anything to a thumb drive. Got it?”
She raised her hand, a triumphant smile creeping up on her face. “On my honor.”
He dug into his sandwich, resuming his usual silence.
“You have a really hard time trusting people, don’t you?” she dared to ask.
He stopped chewing. “Why would you say that?”
“For starters, it took next to an act of God to get you to agree to move all this stuff to my house where we have more room. Every space you walk into, you keep your back to the walls, and you’re always scanning for exits. And you sifted through your sandwich to see all the ingredients in it before you took your first bite.”
He scowled. “That’s just common sense. Know what’s going in your body.”
“What, you think I’d poison it? You did the same thing at Rock Road Diner with Reed.”
“Monroe was my suspect. He had the motive to try something.” He grabbed another carrot.
“And me?”
He held the carrot over his plate. It was several seconds before he answered. “No, I don’t think you’d try something like that. You’re too…”
She sat back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap. “Too what?”
The side of his mouth lifted like it was a joke. “Trusting.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“In my line of work, it kinda is.” He shoved the carrot in his mouth and looked down at his plate.
“That’s really sad. I believe people are mostly good.”
“Unfortunately, the fact that I have my job, and that the DEA even exists are proof to the contrary.”
Suddenly her food didn’t taste that great anymore. How could he be so pessimistic? Being around all this negativity turned things bitter.
“So, do you like to cook?” he asked with another obvious subject change.
“Yes.” She sighed. Might as well comply. She’d get nowhere with him if she kept on picking at that flaw.
“What’s your favorite thing to cook?”
“I like to bake too.”
“Okay, so what things do you like to bake?”
She paused a moment and stared at him, perhaps debating if she wanted to grant him the privilege of knowing these details about her.
“Because if it’s chocolate chip cookies, I may move in.”
She nearly cracked a smile as her jaw softened, and her eyes illuminated. “I make some of the best chocolate chip cookies in the world.”
He lifted his brows. “In the world? That’s a pretty grand statement, Miss Clark.”
“It’s simply a fact, Special Agent. Maybe if you’re good, I’ll make some for you.”
* * *
Jace let the corners of his lips lift. “I’ll bear that in mind.” His plate was already empty, but damn, his mouth watered at the possibility of hot, fresh chocolate chip cookies. Or was it the continued scent of her coconut shampoo? He cleared his plate to the kitchen. He promised he’d remain professional, and he was already skirting that line if he hadn’t already broken it.
They each hunkered down, him on his computer with a file to decipher, and she at the kitchen table with an even bigger stack of evidence.
His thoughts wandered back to her comment about doing anything for a best friend. And wouldn’t he do the same for his. The truth was he didn’t know how to answer that question. He didn’t have a best friend. Hadn’t had one since high school. He got pretty tight with his roommate in college, but after he’d started dating a girl seriously, they didn’t connect like they once did. Since then, Jace had spent his adult life focused on his career. A career that kept him on the road the majority of his life.
He scratched the side of his jaw, working his nails through his beard to relieve the itch. Admittedly, it never much bothered him being a loner. In his line of work, it was just easier. But sitting there, staring at a bunch of crap he couldn’t make sense of, he felt a small ache of wondering. What would it be like to be that close with someone, like the relationship Lynée and Skye shared? Always there for each other, even in a dark time like this.
He pounded his fingers on the keyboard a little harder. That line of thinking would only end in more disappointment. Those kinds of close relationships ended with someone leaving. Or getting hurt. And he wouldn’t allow that person to be him.
Lynée’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Hey. I can’t find the financials for the cartel’s first bank Reed had found . . .” She looked down at herself then back at him. “What’s wrong?”
She was all bundled up like a human about to enter hibernation. With the fire going, the temperature was excellent. What’s with all the extra layers? He began to sweat just looking at her. He couldn’t keep quiet another minute. “Aren’t you boiling?”
“I suppose. It’ll cool off soon.”
“Are you wearing anything under that sweatshirt?”
She nodded. “A tank top.”
“Just looking at you makes me feel like I’m in a steam room.” Jace set aside his laptop and made his way to her side. “Arms up.”
She tossed him an annoyed look, then raised her arms.
He whipped off her sweatshirt.
Under her lavender spaghetti-strap tank top, the most incredibly rounded D-cups stared back at him. Why the fuck was she hiding something so goddamn perfect?
“Hot damn, Lynée. What are you doing hiding those gorgeous boobs under all those clothes?”
Her arms crossed over her chest and furrowed her brows. “What? My mom said ‘don’t advertise if you’re not selling.’”
“Sure, but that doesn’t mean you have to dress like an Eskimo.”
“Whatever. We have work to do. Can you focus?” she asked in her precious little I’m-being-serious voice.
He leaned closer, putting one hand on the table, one hand on the back of her chair. “Lynée, when was the last time a man gave you an orgasm?”
She gasped.
Yeah, he’d absolutely shattered those professional lines he was worried about earlier. But she was just too damn ravishing to mind rules.
“Um, that’s a highly personal question, not to mention highly irrelevant.”
“Shit, that long.” He slowly shook his head. “That’s a shame. I’ll tell you what…” Let’s see how far she’ll let me take this. He leaned closer to her ear, letting the tip of his tongue slide over its shell.
Adorable goosebumps rose on her skin, so delectable he could chase them away with his tongue. And she didn’t pull away.
There was his sign. “Whenever you’re ready, I offer my services. I’ll stroke your pearl for you.”
She’s gasped. “You can’t do that.”
“That’s what it’s for. I’ll give you the best damn orgasm you’ve had in your entire life.”
Her cheeks flushed and her breath turned shallow.
“You will come so long and hard, you’ll forget what day it is. And your body will beg for me to do it again the next day.”
Her hand clutched her tank top at the neckline. She cleared her throat. “I certainly appreciate the offer, but really that isn’t necessary.” She sounded just like his sixth-grade teacher —always too polite, in control, and one step away from talking down to a student.
Jace inhaled her sweet scent one last time and rose, his smile quickly turning into a chuckle. “Okay, Bell, I’m all ears. Something about a bank. Whaddya need?”
Working this close to Jace was beyond distracting. When he was around, her thoughts were discombobulated. This guy was one-hundred percent bad boy, and Lynée was only working with him to help her best friend.
Jace had no right to smile at her like that. And those muscles. He could probably lift her up with one hand and throw her into the neighbor's yard.
Did he lick me? Yes, yes, he did. The warmth of his tongue on her ear felt too good to pull away like she should’ve. Unabashedly broke the rules of professionalism and decorum between them. Then his words…the promise of making her climax whenever she was ready. Stroking my pearl. God in heaven! There wasn’t enough chocolate in the world to satisfy the craving he’d just kindled in her. A craving she had no idea was even there anymore.
But they were here to work. Not throw themselves at each other.
Besides, he was not her type, not by a long-shot.
So why did her body somehow think he was?
“This first bank is wonky. Payments to an off-shore account every quarter that seemed to have stopped three years ago. A year later, a different bank had these same payments going to a separate off-shore account, but stopped six months ago.” She pointed to a spot on the computer screen.
“I bet Cabello has dozens of off-shore accounts to help run his business and stay off our radar.”
“Probably, but this second bank account is also the same one where all the money from that online gaming app was deposited.”
“Wait, what?” Jace leaned closer to the screen.
“The Dark Inferno game. People pay for upgrades and advanced features in the program. All that money goes into this same off-shore account.”
“Why would he use the same account?”
Lynée shrugged. “Beats me. I’m more curious about these payments. The nature of it. The same amount like clockwork.” She bit her lip and glanced at the timeline in her notebook. “I should probably start a new thread. See what happened on those dates.”
“Sounds like a plan. Before you start that, though, how about we break for dinner? Want me to go out and grab something?”
She pushed her glasses back in place and looked up at him, towering over her at the computer. “Um, I have food here.”
“Yeah? Whaddya have? I can eat a lot.” He flashed that smile again.
“Well, I made a roast that we just need to heat up.” She pushed back on the chair, and he stepped to the side.
He followed her into the galley kitchen. There might barely be enough room for them.
She pulled her roaster from the fridge and set it on the counter. She retrieved two plates, a knife, and a cutting board.
She lifted the lid, and the incredible smell of the beef flooded his nostrils and made his mouth water. Just like when his mom cooked pot roast. The way Dad gushed made his mother feel so proud.
“What can I do?”
She gazed at him. “Do you like wine? There’s a bottle of red over there.” She pointed with her chin. “And glasses are in that cabinet.”
He sidled past her, but she remained focused on cutting the beef.
He returned and leaned over her shoulder, glancing into her pot. “Hot damn, woman. That’s a lot of food. You expecting company?”
“Um, yeah, you.”
“I mean somebody else. You feeding a husband somewhere?”
The utensils paused over the food. She looked up at him.
“I noticed your bridal portrait in the living room, but no groom.”
She frowned and continued spooning gravy over his plate. “This enough?”
“That’s good for starters.”
She turned, placed the food in the microwave, and started on her plate. Not nearly the amount she gave him.
He handed her a glass of red wine and took a sip from his glass. “There’s a story there.”
“A long and…boring one.” She stood by the microwave, waiting for it to finish heating up the first plate.
“That’s a shame. Marriage should be anything but boring.”
The slightest tilt of her eyebrow proved she agreed. “I assume you’ve never been married.”
“No wife would ever put up with my work schedule.”
“Marriage too boring for you?”
He smirked through another sip of wine. “We were talking about you. Any boyfriends? Someone special to help you consume all this food?”
The microwave finally dinged, and she switched out the plates. “Nope. Just you. So eat up.”
“Why no boyfriend?”
Her dainty fingers held the glass at its stem as she sipped. “Just haven’t found one. Too busy with work. Like you.”
He chuckled out loud. “Bell, you are too cute for your own good. I bet you have a bunch of little boyfriends all over this town, following you around like lovesick puppies. ‘Lynée, can I carry your books? Lynée, what self-help manual would you recommend for getting a woman’s attention? Will you help me start a book club?’ Any excuse they can come up with to be near you.”
She bit her lips between her teeth, failing to hide her smile. “Don’t forget ‘Lynée, do you want to come to church with me on Sunday?’”
He cackled. “That’s a good one. I mean, who the hell can turn down the church?”
Her eyebrows pulled together. “Holy moly.” Then she spun around when the microwave went off.
“What’s the ‘holy moly’ about?”
; She carried their plates to her round wooden kitchen table. “You swear a lot.”
“What the hell do you mean?”
She winced. “That’s what I mean. Why do you have to cuss so much?”
“You probably think people who curse a lot are savages or uneducated. I’ll have you know I graduated from The Citadel with honors.”
She pointed up with her index finger. “Ah, military boys are known for swearing.”
He stepped closer, intentionally crowding her with the heat emanating from his body. “So are alpha males.”
Her throat worked to swallow. She snuck out of his shadow to take her seat. “Let’s eat.”
“Bell, look at it this way. Cursing is primal.”
She lifted her brows at him over her eyeglasses, watching his every move as he took the spot next to her.
He shoveled in a bite of beef and potato, not bothering with his cloth napkin. “When an animal is in pain, it howls. When a child is in pain, it cries. When an adult is in pain, he or she swears. It’s a primal reflex. Shouting out ‘fuck’ helps to dissipate the pain.”
“Goodness, Jace.” She shook her head.
His grin went from ear to ear.
“What?” She paused mid-bite.
“That’s the first time you called me Jace, and hot damn, baby, I love it.”
She pointed at him. “Uh-uh. You don’t get to call me baby. It’s derogatory.”
“Sorry. Hot damn, Bell.”
She lowered her head back to her dinner. “Well, your theory may be correct, but here, in this house, you can’t tell me you were in pain. So is it really necessary to curse so much?”
“All right. Think of it this way. Cursing can also be persuasive. It can show passion. And passion’s a good thing, right?”
* * *
The corner of his lip pulled up. Like he tried to use any topic to make fun of her. How did this conversation take such a turn? Lynée simply nodded and focused on the roast.
“It can also show power,” he continued. “Even for a woman, Bell. In other words, if a woman has power, she doesn’t need to trade it for sympathy, nor should she.”
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