But the reminders didn’t help. Especially when she dragged her fingers through her still-damp hair, tossed it over her shoulders, and came to stand directly in front of him. With him sitting and her standing, it put those spectacular breasts he’d just been trying not to look at directly in front of his eyes.
Was that lace he could see under the shirt?Damn it, not the Playboy Bunny underwear. Don’t think about the Playboy Bunny underwear and the soft, creamy, firm flesh spilling out....
Fuck.
He looked up. He hoped she hadn’t read where his mind had been, but from the way she was glaring at him he figured he’d been caught.
Jesus, he was aguy. Put them in front of him and he was going to look. What did she expect?
“All right, John. Say what it is you have to say and get out. I’ve had a long night, and I want to go to bed.”
Her innocent proclamation sent his mind in not-so-innocent directions. He wanted to go to bed, too. But that wasn’t going to happen.
Again.
Don’t go there.“I’ll go just as soon as you promise me that you’ll get on a plane tomorrow and go home.”
She didn’t blink, but just held his stare. “Not going to happen. I’m not done here.”
John did exactly what he swore he wasn’t going to do. He tossed down the remote and stood, getting way too close to her. He could smell her lotion or shampoo—whatever the light floral scent was that was driving him a little crazy. “Yes, you are. You’re going to get on that plane if I have to put you on it myself.”
He knew better than to threaten her—it would only make her dig in her heels more—but something about her nonchalant, “you’re bothering me” attitude was really getting to him.
Hewas the one who was supposed to be irritated. He’d had to leave his nice, safe little place in Finland, where everything was going fricking fantastic—wasn’t it?—to track her down in Norway and save her sexy ass from some guy who clearly meant to do her harm. And what kind of thanks was he getting? Attitude, and lots of it.
She poked him right in the solar plexus with a hard tap of her finger. It was surprisingly effective at stopping him in his tracks if he’d had any intention of moving toward her—which he might have.
He didn’t even recognize himself right now. He was from Berkeley, for shit’s sake. He was about as evolved as they came for a Teamguy. His mom had made sure of it. But Brittany had turned him into a caveman.
“I’d like to see you try. You’re supposed to be dead, remember?”
Yep, he knew it—digging in her heels even more. He could almost see the dirt flying. He was going to have to change tactics if he wanted to avoid a standoff.
Besides, she had a point. There was only so much he could do without drawing unwanted attention to himself.
But with her so close and every part of his body noticing, he couldn’t resist one more volley. “You’d be surprised how inventive I can be.”
He hadn’t said it with any kind of sexual promise. He didn’t need to. Sexual promise was pretty much a given when she was standing this close to him. The air was charged with it.
She got it, and wisely took a step back. He took that different approach. The “let’s be reasonable adults” approach. “I know I haven’t given you a lot of reason to trust me in the past, but after what just happened, you have to at leastconsiderthat what I’ve been telling you is the truth and that if you don’t back off this story, people—and not just you and me—could get killed. I know you don’t want that.”
He was rewarded with the first twinge of uncertainty—or guilt. Whichever one it was didn’t really matter if it meant that he was finally getting through to her.
“Of course I don’t want that. But neither am I going to back off trying to find out what happened to my brother for no reason—or for vague warnings. Whatever happened on that mission is going to come out at some point, John. Men lost their lives. How long do you think you can keep hiding?Someoneis going to find out you are alive after this secret mission you went on that wentso wrong. Wouldn’t you rather it be someone who can be fair?”
She had a point. There were stories of covert operations being kept under wraps for years—in one well-known CIA case, sixteen years—but what had happened in Russia was too big to stay hidden for long. They all knew the clock was ticking. But they needed time to figure out what had happened and who was behind it. He didn’t want her anywhere near it when this thing blew.
“Canyou be fair, Brittany?” he challenged.
She looked taken aback and maybe a little hurt. “What do you mean? I’m a good reporter. I thought you believed me about what happened five years ago. I didn’t make up that story.”
“I did—I do. But I also think you have an agenda. You have been on a one-woman quest to uncover anything that smacks of a governmental cover-up since the death of your parents. The truth is always good and secrets are always bad—you never stop to consider otherwise. No matter what it costs.”
She looked furious. “That isn’t true!”
“Isn’t it? Why else were you and Brand barely on speaking terms for the past five years?”
“Because he accused me of spying on him!”
