“Very important,” he finally says, with that husky voice that seems designed to make moral principles crumble.
“Define ‘very’,” I say, trying to stay neutral.
“The kind of ‘very’ that makes you forget your own name.”
Noted.
Obviously, I didn't need to ask. I already pegged him as a very physical guy.
Damn… now my mind has gone back to that night again.
Breathe, Sloane. Get it together.
“Next question. Do you fall in love easily?”
“No.”
“Figured,” I note that too.
“It only happens when I shouldn’t.”
I pause for a moment. It’s the first time he’s said something without a joking tone.
His fingers drum softly on the table, and I notice that Cohen's hands are large, calloused, with a scar running across the back of his right one.
A subtle mark.
A detail I shouldn’t notice.
Yet I stare at it until he catches me.
“You like what you see?”
“I’m studying your body language,” I reply quickly and neutrally.
“Ah, right. Professional study.” He leans forward slightly, just enough for his scent to reach me.
Of course he had to smell good too…
“Tell me something about yourself. What do you enjoy besides sports?” Damn… my voice came out husky.
He just stares at me and doesn’t answer.
I’m losing patience.
I try to keep my voice as steady as possible. “We need to build your profile, Becker, and to do that, you need to answer with a minimum of sincerity. No jokes, no sarcasm, no… smartass attitude.”
He looks at me and raises an eyebrow. “You’re stripping away all my best qualities.”
I set the pen down on the pad, breathe, then decide to go straight to the point.
“Last time you said you consider yourself faithful. Confirm?”
His gaze flares up again. “Of course.”
Fantastic. It’s the second time he’s had that kind of reaction. Did he get burned? Disappointed?
I write something down. “Faithful.”
