Virgin In Disguise. Rosemary Heim
best course would be to control how much more she uncovered. With a little luck and a lot of skill, he could lead her where he needed to go.
“Gut reactions can be pretty reliable. Maybe you should trust yours.”
“Why?”
“You mentioned arson. I’m digging into some cold cases that have been ignored for too long.”
She squatted beside him, bracing her hands on either side of the door frame, and stared at him with rounded eyes. “What?”
That surprised her. Good. “You’re interfering with an ongoing investigation.”
She stood in a rush and stumbled back a few steps. “Where are you from?”
“Washington, D.C.” Let’s see where that leads her.
“FBI?” She took another step back. “ATF?”
He didn’t want to outright lie to her, so he tilted his head and let her draw her own conclusions for now.
“Aw, sh—boygan!” She began pacing.
“Sheboygan?”
“My mother doesn’t like it when I swear.”
“Sheboygan?” he repeated. “You’re a bounty hunter and you don’t swear?”
“Profanity shows a lack of imagination.”
“The folks in Sheboygan probably wouldn’t appreciate having their town taken in vain.”
“They can get in line with the folks from Keister.”
He laughed.
He sat there, north of who knew where, handcuffed to the seat of a rusting shell that hid a high-performance engine. A two-month investigation was in jeopardy. He’d just manipulated the assumptions of his captor, a woman who had drugged him and held him at gunpoint—and managed to look too damn sexy doing it, even punked out like she was.
And she made him laugh.
Laughing felt good. It had been a long time since he’d laughed. “Come on, Elf. Trust me. What have you got to lose?”
“Only my self-respect.” She kept pacing, kicking at the gravel drive. “I don’t suppose you can prove who you are? No official ID or anything like that?”
“What kind of undercover agent would I be if I carried proof of my real identity on me? Before you ask—” he held up his free hand when she opened her mouth “—you won’t find proof in my room, either.”
“Any suggestions on how I can verify who you say you are?”
“Unfortunately, it’s Friday night and even my boss, workaholic that she is, leaves the office for the weekend.” No need to let on that his boss was always reachable—not yet, anyway.
“Convenient.”
“True, nonetheless. We could try calling her. She might have her line forwarded.”
“No phone in the cabin and the cell phone is intermittent, as I just learned. This doesn’t make sense. Why would Dex—” She interrupted herself. “This is crazy.”
Dex? Her client? “It’s up to you, Elf.”
“What guarantee do I have that you won’t rabbit the second I turn my back?”
“None. Except my word.”
“Oh, that’s real reassuring.”
“Look. I’m from the east coast. I’ve never been to Minnesota before this assignment. I have no clue where we are, where the closest town might be or if there even is a town within hiking distance. All I know is that we’re near a lake and the mosquitoes—” he smacked a specimen trying to suck his neck dry “—are hungry little buggers. Could we at least go inside?”
She stopped pacing and approached the car. “You’re keeping the cuffs on, at least until I figure out…something.”
“You’re the boss.”
Her Yeah, right sideways glance at him made it clear just what she thought of that statement’s credibility. “Sit on your right hand.”
He obeyed, sliding his free hand under his leg. She pinned his leg in place with her knee, putting more weight than necessary on it, as she leaned into the car and released the handcuff from the seat frame. Her warm scent surrounded him, filling his head with all sorts of imaginings better left for late nights and soft beds.
She backed out of the car, but kept a firm hold on his handcuffed wrist. “Let’s see if we can do this nice and easy. Swing your legs out of the car, stand up and turn around.”
He followed her directions, hesitating for a couple heartbeats when he stood at his full height. She was close. Close enough he could feel her warm breath fanning the exposed skin of his throat.
Close enough he could see her swallow and watch the dawning awareness in her eyes.
Close enough she’d notice exactly how…aware he was in a couple seconds. He turned his back to her.
A soft breeze brushed the back of his neck.
Or maybe it was her sighed release of a held breath.
Blood heated low in his belly. If he didn’t watch out, this attraction would get out of hand way too easily. He’d already broken one of his rules by talking to a civilian about his assignment. He stood dangerously close to breaking a few more.
Angel snapped the handcuff into place around Cabrini’s right wrist. Beneath her fingers, his pulse beat with a heavy rhythm that matched her own heartbeat. She forced out a calming breath and, along with it, the memory of the hungry desire she’d read in his eyes.
Was he really a federal agent? If he was telling the truth, what the devil was Dex up to and why had he involved her?
Anger bubbled up and she embraced the emotion. Anything was better than the desire Cabrini’s proximity generated.
Another mosquito landed on Cabrini’s neck and she slapped it, maybe a little harder than necessary, judging by his startled glance over his shoulder at her.
“The bugs seem to have a particular liking for your taste.” Sweet or salty? The thought sent heat flashing over her neck and cheeks. She kicked Rusty’s door shut and nudged Cabrini in the direction of the house. “Let’s get inside before they make a meal of you.”
Once inside, she shut and locked the inner door and turned off the porch light. She tapped Cabrini’s shoulder and nodded toward the breakfast nook. “Have a seat.”
He folded his length onto the bench and slid into the corner. It gave him a power position from which he could observe her, but it also severely restricted his mobility. If he made any unexpected move, she’d have her gun out and at the ready before he could do more than slide to the end of the table.
“Thanks.” She acknowledged his tactic.
“I figure the only way to earn your trust is to behave in a trustworthy manner.”
“Let’s really put you to the test then.”
He sat up a little straighter. “What do you have in mind?”
“Cooking.” She shrugged at his raised eyebrows. “I’m not very good and have a rather limited repertoire. Tonight’s options are mac and cheese or tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.”
“Kind of heavy on the cheese, aren’t you?”
“Just doing my part to support the local economy.” She began unpacking the grocery bag. “Pick your poison—which will it be?”
“I’ll leave it to you.”
“Macaroni and cheese it is.” She put water on to boil. “It’s more of