Page 23 of Lock ’N’ Load

Trista gave a reluctant nod, then took a sip from her own glass, savoring the spicy caramel and vanilla tones of her favorite Scotch. Her parents had given it to her as a gift after one of their walkabouts in Scotland, and she’d been hooked on it ever since. Not that she was much of a drinker, but it helped her to unwind after a stressful day. A light buzz was already working its way through her system, and she welcomed it.

Kevin abruptly stopped swirling the ice cubes in his glass. “What’d he do?”

Poofy readjusted himself in her lap and purred louder when Trista sifted her fingers through his thick scruff. “He told me he had a duty to report the incident, and that he’d done it for the safety of the agency, and for me.”

She still couldn’t believe she’d given Matt a serious tongue-lashing. A side of her personality she hadn’t known existed—an outspoken, confrontational side—had taken that moment to make itself known. Equally shocking was that during her entire tirade she hadn’t stammered once. A first around Matt.

“Did he get angry?” The corners of Bonnie’s lips curved up at the corners, and she leaned on the table. “Did he whip out the handcuffs? Get all manly on you?”

“No.” Trista rolled her eyes. “He was in the fitness center working out.” Looking all sweaty, and muscular, and gorgeous.

“Did he yell back at you?” Kevin asked.

Trista shook her head. “Not exactly, although he was definitely mad at me. Matt is so big and intimidating, he doesn’t have to raise his voice to get his point across. All he had to do was stand over me, scowling with those cop eyes—he’s good at that, by the way—and I felt about yea big.” She held her thumb and forefinger a quarter inch apart. Compared to him, she was yea big.

“Whoa, stop.” Bonnie held up her hand, scrunching her brows. “You just called him Matt, not Sgt. Connors. When did you start calling him Matt?”

“I—” Don’t know. She stared back, knowing she had a deer-in-the-headlights look on her face. Even though he’d told her to call him by his first name, she’d never really intended to.

“Did something else happen that you’re not telling us about?” The beginnings of a sly grin began forming on Bonnie’s lips.

“No,” she said a bit too quickly, feeling her cheeks heat at the memory of having Matt’s arms around her, his lips on hers, his tongue deep in her mouth. Oh God.

Bonnie reached across the table to grip Trista’s arm. “Something did happen. I knew it. Give it up, GF.”

“Leave her alone,” Kevin said with a note of annoyance. “She’s been through enough.”

“No way, José.” Bonnie shook her head, then leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “This is serious girl stuff. If you don’t want to hear it, go to the bathroom or something. Stick your fingers in your ears. But I,” she said, pointing to her chest, “need to hear it.”

“Okay, okay.” She might as well get this over with. Bonnie would eventually pry it out of her anyway. “It wasn’t that big a deal. One minute I was yelling at him like a crazy person, then I realized he was probably right, and I started to cry. I think he took pity on me because the next thing I knew, his arms were around me, then he was kissing me. I started kissing him back, then he said it was a mistake, and I left because Wayne and Genevieve told me I had thirty minutes to leave the building, and—”

“Wait.” Bonnie smacked her hands on the table. “Dial that back. He was kissing you?”

Now her cheeks really started to grow hot. “Well, yeah. But he said it was a mistake, and he apologized.”

“Oh, no.” Kevin waggled his finger at her. “Men don’t kiss women by mistake. Trust me.”

“I agree.” Bonnie nodded. “Why did he say it was a mistake?”

“I don’t know.” Trista groaned. “Maybe it was a pity kiss, or an I’m-sorry-for-getting-your-high-level-security-clearance-revoked kiss.”

Either way, he’d made it painstakingly clear he regretted it, and the realization still twisted her insides. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about his kiss since she’d stormed out of the fitness center.

It had felt good kissing him. Crazy good.

His body had been warm and damp with perspiration, his muscles hard as steel beneath her fingers, flexing and bunching. And his hot mouth had been demanding one minute, soft and gentle the next. God help her, when his tongue touched hers, her body sizzled to the ignition stage in record time. She’d melted in his arms, boneless, like a limp noodle. Never in her life had a man’s kiss scrambled her brains to such a degree. Then again, it’s not as if I’ve been kissed by many men. But Matt had been responsible for her security clearance being revoked, and no way could she forgive him. Not entirely, anyway.

“Again, no.” Kevin waved his finger. “Guys don’t give pity kisses. Guys kiss when they want to kiss because it feels good. Trust me.”

“I agree.” Bonnie nodded. “Something triggered this. A spark, a connection, a—”

The doorbell rang, and Poofy swiveled his head to the door with a loud, inquiring mew.

“Excuse me,” she said to her friends, picking Poofy up and depositing him gently on the floor, where he made another protest, louder this time. A sure sign of discontentment at having been ousted from his regal perch on her lap.

At the door, Trista peered through the peephole. At first, all she saw was navy blue. Then she recognized the gold badge and name tag, and her heart rate zoomed into the stratosphere.

Matt stood on her front porch, looking all big and commanding and able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.