No! So close! Drink the damn coffee, woman.
But watching her lips part slightly as she prepared to take that sip was making it extremely hard to focus on this prank. I found myself imagining those lips on my skin, wondering what sounds she’d make if I?—
Stop. Just stop.
“If we’re about to become famous, for lack of a better word, I can’t risk them connecting the dots and following me there.”
Right. This whole fake engagement would be pointless if her business tanked anyway.
“I’m coming with you.”
Damn it. She lowered the cup again. Still no sip. My masterpiece was getting cold.
This is torture. Pure, exquisite torture.
“No.”
“Look, hopefully, Ryker’s blowing this whole thing out of proportion. But until we know for sure, I don’t want you going anywhere alone.”
Dakota went still at the protective undertone in my voice. That warmth shooting from her eyes hit me like a direct punch to the solar plexus.
Oh, come on. Now is not the time for a moment. Drink. The. Coffee.
Seconds later, she shook off whatever that moment was with a small clearing of her throat.
“I’ll see if Ryker can go with me; today’s the day he normally visits Knox. But let’s be clear: it’s not because you told me so. Although, thank you for caring enough.”
Uh-oh. She was being sweet.
And then—Lord help me—she actually smiled. A real smile that reached all the way to her eyes and made something dangerous flutter in my chest.
She even tilted her head and added, “You know, it’s moments like these that make me remember it hasn’t always been an ocean of animosity between us. Once upon a time, I actually thought you were nice.”
Shit.
Dakota had just let a genuinely happy moment slip between us. Her voice hadn’t held a trace of sarcasm; she was being authentically nice to me.
And of course she chose this exact moment to finally, finally raise that mug to her lips.
Oh no. Oh, this is bad. This is very bad.
I opened my mouth to warn her?—
Too late.
She took a huge gulp of what was essentially saltwater with a caffeine chaser. Her eyes bugged out like a cartoon character, and she spat the liquid out in a volcanic explosion of disgust as she shot to her feet.
“WHAT THE HELL?”
Panting, Dakota stared into her mug like it had personally betrayed her. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and I couldn’t help but notice how the quick breathing made her breasts strain against her shirt.
Then her gaze snapped to my face, and I tried—really tried—to hide my laughter. But the moment of kindness we’d just shared didn’t erase a decade of hostility, and frankly, her expression was priceless.
Her eyes narrowed into laser-focused slits, and she glanced at the clocks again, the pieces clicking into place with almost-audible precision.
“You’re dead, Pierce.”
But instead of looking murderous, something shifted in her expression. A slow, wicked smile spread across her lips. The kind that promised trouble of the most delicious variety.
