Her body is warm against mine. The slit in her dress flashes when she moves, just enough to be distracting. She’s close enough that I can feel the heat of her, the subtle shift of her weight as she follows my lead without hesitation.
This is exactly the proximity I usually avoid. And the things I don’t let distract me.
“I’d say so,” I reply. “Wouldn’t you?” The conversation has entered dangerous territory, but I can’t keep myself from seeing where it leads. This woman’s mind is as interesting as her body.
Inwardly, I shake my head at my foolishness. First, I noticed her scent. And now I’m interested in her mind.I’m definitely fucked.
She considers my question, lips curving. “I think it matters, because you’re hiding something.”
An involuntary, quiet laugh escapes my lips. “You’re very observant.”
“That’s what they pay me for,” she says. “To figure out secrets and lies.”
Her honesty disarms me more than it should. And for a brief moment, I regret I can never be completely honest with her.
With anyone.
“Sometimes people don’t want their secrets exposed,” I note. “Does it not scare you that you might find out things that might put you in danger?”
She shrugs. “I’m afraid of lots of things. I just don’t let it stop me.” She tilts her head. “Are you threatening me?” There’s a smile on her lips, but she instinctively leans away from me.
I don’t like it, so I pull her closer again. “No, it’s not a threat,” I murmur against her hair. “I’ll do my uttermost to never place you in danger.”
She relaxes in my arms, and a part of me I didn’t notice was tense relaxes as her body shows she believes me.
That’s dangerous too.
The music swells, slower now, more intimate. I let go of her hand and move it to the other side of her waist from where I’m already holding her. Spreading my fingers, I tighten my grip on her.
She slides her hands up my shoulders, interlacing her fingers behind my neck. “Why diplomacy?” She asks, casually, but her pupils are dilated as she gazes into my eyes and her breath catches.
“Public service,” I say without missing a beat. “A desire to build bridges between cultures.” The answers are rehearsed and repeated often, so they come out smoothly and people always believe them.
This woman, though, she doesn’t. She snorts softly. “You don’t strike me as a bridge-builder.”
Another involuntary smile stretches my lips. “No?”
“You strike me as someone who knows where all the exits are.” Her gaze is serious, but a challenge glimmers in the back of it.
I meet her gaze and hold it while I measure how much to give her. “Old habit,” I finally say.
“Yes,” she murmurs. “That tracks. You’re ex-military, or maybe ex-law enforcement. Maybe both.”
She’s surprised me again. Ex-military is true. But law enforcement is current. “Something like that.”
We sway together, slowly. I could do this all night. Which is dangerous…for both of us. Anyone close to me will have a target painted on their back should my cover ever be blown.
She tilts her head. “So what are you really doing in San Isidro, Julian Cross?”
“Oh, we’re using full names now.” I lower my voice. “Just enjoying the music. The company.”
She shakes her head, laughing lightly. “You’re a master in deflecting.”
“So you keep telling me.” But I actually told her the truth. For once, I’m caught up in just enjoying myself. This woman has crawled inside my guard in just a few moments.
She studies me, clearly deciding whether to push. Then she smiles again, shaking her head. “Fine,” she says. “Your turn.”
“My turn?”
