The question came out of nowhere, from the uncontrolled depths of his subconscious mind.
Her gaze dropped to his chest. Five-eleven.
Then the subtle movement of her shoulders registered. She was hunching down, making herself shorter.
Suddenly, Sean had two fingers tucked beneath her softly jutting chin. Dont.
He was lifting her up, tipping her chin up. He moved closer. She was an unexpected combination of creamy skin and steely strength. His fingertips sizzled at the contact. He wanted to sample a taste of that smooth, heated skin.
Her hands came up and splayed across his chest, halting him from coming any closer without pushing him back. It was too tender a touch to ignore, too hesitant a touch to justify the way his nerve endings jumped to greet the clutch of her fingertips. Her eyes had washed to a pale dove-gray, the rounded pupils big and black in their centers, as if she were drugged with the same hazy feeling that seemed to be clouding his own mind.
What are you doing? she asked.
Judging by the hypnotic effect this womans body was having on his, he was charging his engines. He was giving vent to several months of unintended celibacy. He needed sex. Lots of it. He needed to get this fever she was igniting out of his system so he could do his job.
The idea in his mind became a living, breathing desire.
She wouldnt.
He didnt dare ask.
He had nothing to lose.
Are you free this weekend?
And then she did shove him. She retreated a step into her bedroom while Sean stumbled into the hallway.
Her rosy cheeks had blanched, but there was plenty of fervor left in her voice. I dont know what game youre playing, Mr. Maddox, but you cant just come in here and take me apart with your eyes like that. Cassie stood you up, so you grab the next female who comes along? Thats the most insulting pickup routine Ive ever
Are you available? He waved aside her rightful protest before she could lambaste him again. I know, I know. He moved into the foyer, away from the unspoken desire that had sparked between them. He needed to think clearly here. Think of the job. He glanced at his watch and swore. Im already late.
Unless he drove straight through the night. He couldnt risk any holdups with the airlines. But getting there in time did him no good unless he had an escort.
Late for what?
Bingo. Curiosity. She might have voiced a ladylike protest at his impromptu invitation, but she was interested. Despite her dating survival instincts, she was interested. Seans libidinous radar kicked in, backed up by his professional survival instincts. She might not want to admit it, but she was interested in him.
He slowly turned around and studied her again, from the smooth, flushed skin of her unadorned face down to Good God, he had to stop looking at her legs. She wasnt dressed in a particularly provocative fashion. But there was something about her. Something about the whole package of this Amazon that made him think his mission was still possible. That he hadnt blown his entire weekend. That he hadnt ruined this assignment. Yet.
She shifted nervously beneath his blatant perusal, crossing her arms at her waist, pushing the nubs of her breasts against the thin cotton of her shirt and creating twin points that tantalized him further.
Youll do.
Ill do what?
This sexy, Amazon temptress was more than Cassies odd, naive roommate. She might well be Seans salvation.
Caitlin, isnt it?
Yes?
Todays my thirty-second birthday.
She hesitated. Happy birthday.
He turned on what he could salvage of his charm. How would you like to give me the best birthday present of my life?
CAITLIN FELT INDIGNANT anger flush through her from head to toe with a bright rosy heat. Birthday present? How bout I give you a punch in the face?
How dare he? Either Cassies Dear John was a dangerous sex fiend or he was making fun of her.
What? A look of stunned surprise filled his dark green eyes an instant before an answering blush crept up his neck. Then those same eyes narrowed in an angry squint as he waved aside her prickly pride. That wasnt a proposition. Not that kind, at any rate. But I do have a business proposition for you.
She arched one eyebrow in doubt. Is it any better than your last line? She watched as he pushed up the tweed sleeve of his jacket and looked at his watch. And quit checking the time. Its rude. If you have to go somewhere, go. Im not stopping you.
Caitlin stiffened in cautious anticipation as his expressive face grew still. One second he was antsy, the next completely calm. Spooky. Cool in a Terminator kind of way, but spooky.
I dont have time to do this nice and subtle, he announced. He pulled back the front of his coat and reached inside. Ill make it quick.
That endless expanse of taut white T-shirt gave way to a band of black leather that curved over his shoulder and hung down beneath his arm. A holster, with a gun. A big, black, deadly looking gun. Make this quick?
Oh my God. Caitlin jumped back a step. Mr. Terminator was reaching for his gun! Dont shoot me!
She reached for the nearest thing that looked like protection and came up with the nozzle on the vacuum cleaner. She held it in front of her in both hands like a weapon.
Sean froze. He looked at the nozzle. He looked at Caitlin. He looked down to where his hand hovered beside the holster. Then he looked at her again, studying her frightened expression with a cockeyed squint that indicated he thought she was the crazy person here.
Their gazes held for about two seconds, just long enough for her courage to waver. Then he was moving again. All-business. He pulled a leather wallet from an inside jacket pocket. Dont worry, McCormick. I guess I should have used a little more finesse in my invitation. But Im afraid smooth moves just arent my style. He inclined his head toward the nozzle she wielded in her hand. If its any consolation, neither is shooting a woman who could suck my brains out.
Suck? Caitlins heart tripped an extra beat. A raw rush of heat and pressure pounded between her legs and left her lightheaded. Sex? This guy wanted her to? Her gaze flew to his crotch. Shed never. She wanted. She wouldnt. How dare you!
Here. He flipped open his wallet. Inside she saw an official-looking ID and a polished brass badge. Uh-oh. Im Special Agent Sean Maddox, maam. Im with the FBI.
The nervous excitement that had pounded through her body flooded her neck and face with embarrassment. Sucking. The vacuum. Hed been talking about the vacuum. Of course. Idiot.
FBI?
Ignoring the aftershocks of sexual frustration and indignation that were slow to die, she gathered her wits and took the wallet in a tentative grasp. She studied it a few moments. The picture matched. He hadnt been smiling when this ID photo was taken, either. U.S. Department of Justice. Federal Bureau of Investigation. Sean Michael Maddox. DOB 05/29/71.
It is your birthday, she murmured out loud, but read on. New England Bureau Administrative Chief. Though the tension eased from her posture, suspicion quickly took its place.
She handed back the wallet. Your ID says Administrative Chief, not special agent. And Virginias a little out of your New England territory. Either youre a liar or thats fake.