A Dangerously Sexy Affair (10 page)

“I
don't
care what people think. Doesn't mean I don't wish things were different.” She chased a slippery piece of bacon with her fork. “Sometimes I wonder if I'd be better off if I blended in.”

“Don't blend in.” Awareness thrummed through his body, lighting him up like a carnival at night. Saturating him in the color and vibrancy of her. “I couldn't imagine you without your pink hair and all that attitude.”

“I get tired of people assuming I'm not serious.”

The vulnerability of her words struck him square in the chest. She may pride herself in being truthful, but she was rarely totally honest and open with people...at least from what he'd seen. And here she was, cracking open the wall around her. Letting him peek inside at the real Quinn.

He wanted more.

“Why do you think people assume you're not serious?”

She drummed her fingers on the table. “I guess they see this woman with pink hair and baggy T-shirts and assume I'm a dumb chick who doesn't know anything. That I'm going through a phase by being the way I am. It's not a phase...it's just me.”

“Prickly as hell and damn proud of it.”

A smile spread across her lips. “I'm not always prickly.”

The hint of sensuality in her words tugged at the core of him, letting his attraction to her burst through like water crashing over a dam. Unleashed and furious. Untamable.

Damn, she was hot. He didn't want to be attracted to her—she had baggage for days, and getting involved with a colleague was definitely not a good idea so early on in his new job. But Lord help him, he wanted her. Every quirky, sexy bit.

He shifted in his seat. “Yes, you do have the ability to turn down the prickle factor.”

“I never used to be like this, you know.” She attacked another mouthful of pasta, as if keeping her mouth busy would stop the confessions from coming out.

“Why did you change?”

The haunted look that crossed over her face—like a ghost sucking the life out of her—twisted something in his chest. He wanted to know who had caused that look so he could track down the son of a bitch and take him out. He wanted to slay her demons.

What is
wrong
with you? Have you forgotten the bit where you determined that the job needed to come first? Keep it in your pants and get back to work.

“Let's just say that there's a reason I don't trust people. The last time I did, something really bad happened.”

And she had him. Hook. Line. Sinker. “What happened?”

“I might tell you one day, Aiden. You seem less messed up than everyone else, but that doesn't mean I trust you yet.” Her eyes were guarded, wary. But he understood her need to protect herself; he respected it.

“We're a team, you know that, right?”

She nodded. “Yes, and
you're
in charge. So we might be a team, but we're not equal.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Kinda.” A thoughtful expression swept over her face. “I'm used to being an underdog. My mom was an underdog, too. We didn't have a lot when I was growing up. She worked two jobs and I didn't see her much. But I studied hard and ended up at Cobalt & Dane. In her eyes I'd made it big by getting a degree and a real job.”

“But you don't agree with that?”

“I've been fixing people's printers and resetting passwords for four years.” She cast him a rueful smile. “Not that there's anything wrong with doing that, but I've done my time. I'm smarter than that.”

“Isn't that why Rhys put you on this assignment? To give you a chance to step up?”

“I wanted
your
job. I applied for it, but I wasn't good enough.”

This wasn't news to him; she'd
told
him about it already. But now it dawned on him that he'd flown in without so much as a formal interview because the boss wanted him. Just like he'd gotten into the FBI because of his father and then advanced because of the Odell legacy.

In his mind, this
was
a different situation. Logan had come to him, not the other way around. He wasn't accepting a handout. But would Quinn see it that way? Part of him wanted to lock that information up tight. The other part of him knew how she would react if she found out from anyone besides him.

Time to man up and spit out the truth.

“There's something I have to tell you,” he said, setting down his fork.

“Okay.” She watched him warily.

“Logan Dane is a close personal friend of mine. He's been asking me to join Cobalt & Dane for a while, over twelve months.” He paused to let that information sink in. Judging by the way her eyes widened, she hadn't known or suspected his connection to Logan. “I don't believe that information is common knowledge but I wanted to tell you because you mentioned applying for this position. I didn't want you to think that you didn't get the job simply because you weren't good enough, as you said.”

Silence. She toyed with her cutlery, her eyes lowered to her plate.

“And, since you've made it clear that honesty is important to you, I wanted to do the right thing.”

“Thank you,” she said, her voice almost lost in the restaurant din. “So people at the office don't know you're friends with Logan?”

“I don't think so.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “It's not a secret exactly, but I want a chance to put a few runs on the board before it gets out. Some people may assume I only got the job because of my friendship with Logan and not because of my experience or skills.”

“They probably would assume that.” She nodded.

“It's not true. Logan wanted to hire me because of what I can do and because he trusts me.” His stomach churned as Quinn's eyes moved slowly over him. Assessing. Judging. Would she be like everybody else? “And I couldn't stay at the FBI anymore.”

“Why not?”

He had to force himself not to grind his teeth. “My father was the head of Intelligence. He always had a say in what work I was doing, what team I was assigned to...it was stifling. I couldn't get any respect for my own work because everyone believed any success I had was because of him.”

Her eyes softened. “That would suck.”

“Yeah, so I understand the frustration of trying to prove yourself. I get why you would be pissed that I got this position when you wanted it.”

A smile curved her pink lips. “Yeah, I am still kind of pissed.”

“But you won't hold it against me?”

“I can't. Not your fault you're a ‘better fit' for the job than me,” she said, making quotation marks with her fingers. “But we'll kick butt on this assignment and then I'll get my promotion.”

“I hope you do,” he said, and he meant it.

10

T
HE
MINUTES
HAD
ticked by slowly as Quinn finished her meal, shoving the last forkful of pasta between her lips. What was it about Aiden Odell that made her want to spill her guts?

Perhaps it was because he'd opened up to her, too. As much as she hated that he'd been handed
her
job on a silver platter—while she had to fight to prove herself—he was being honest with her. What if he really
had
been about to tell her the truth the night they met?

“What are you thinking?” His deep voice broke her concentration.

“Just getting up in my own head.”

“You do that a lot, don't you?”

A smile pulled at her lips. “And you don't?”

“Touché.” His eyes crinkled at their corners. “But you can tell me what's going on. I can't be the only one getting all deep and meaningful tonight.”

God, he looked so damn sexy. So at ease in his environment, like he belonged. She had to fight the urge to reach across the table and run her fingertips along his stubble-roughened jaw.

She was sick of being scared, sick of wanting sex and then feeling guilty for it. Sick of denying herself because some creep had screwed her over.

But how could she admit that she'd been dumb enough not to notice her boyfriend—the one who'd supposedly loved her—was streaming video of them having sex to a bunch of people? Not to mention what had happened in the aftermath...

She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Quinn?” Aiden placed his hand over hers and she forced herself not to flinch.

“I want to be normal,” she whispered.

As she wrenched her gaze away from the floor and up to him, she'd expected to see pity. Sympathy. Panic, even.

But what she got was something else entirely. Anger blazed in his eyes like a house fire, terrifying and out of control. All consuming.

The silence absorbed her. For a moment she wondered if he could see what had happened flickering across her face like an old reel of film. Revealing her deepest, darkest secrets.

“Someone hurt you,” he said. Not a question, a simple statement.

“Yes.” She reached over the table and grabbed his beer, bringing it to her lips and downing it in one long swig. Desperate to drown out the voices telling her she was headed straight for danger. “That's where I learned that I can't trust people.”

She was through with people like Zach the Horrible intimidating her, through with missing out on something she'd loved so much before the webcam incident. Sleeping with Aiden that first night had been a step forward, a test to see if she could change.

A test she'd passed.

“Will you take me home?” She held her breath, watching the uncertainty mixing with lust in his expression. He had hungry eyes, but a wary mouth. “Then you can come up to my apartment.”

“I don't know if that's a good idea, Quinn.”

“We can play ‘Mario Kart.'” She pushed back from the table and reached for her bag. “Or are you afraid I'll win?”

He laughed. “Never.”

“If it's because we're working together—”

“It's not just that.” He braced his hands on the arms of the old-fashioned dining chair, and for a moment she thought he'd stay seated. But he didn't.

“Are you not attracted to me?”

“That's not it, and you know it.” He pulled his wallet—a beat-up leather thing that was flat as a pancake—out of his back pocket and threw a few bills onto the table, waving her away when she reached for her own money.

“I'm not letting you foot the whole bill,” she said.

“It's a work dinner. I'll expense it.”

He waited for her to walk past and she did, awkwardly ambling between the tables with her backpack in front of her so she wouldn't accidentally bump anyone. The old Italian woman who'd brought their drinks earlier watched them leave, her hooded eyes unabashedly curious. Quinn made a point of not making eye contact with her. She didn't care what other people thought...and maybe if she repeated that mantra enough times it would stick.

“This place means something to you, doesn't it?” she said as they waited on the side of the road for a cab. “The restaurant, I mean.”

“Yeah, I used to come here a lot as a kid. The people who own this place are practically family.” He looked as if he was going to say something else, but he didn't.

When the cab pulled up, he held the door for her—the—perfect gentleman. She scooted across the backseat and he climbed in next to her. He seemed to take up all the space, and the air around him vibrated.

“What's your family like?” Quinn asked, fiddling with the bag cradled in her lap.

He snorted. “Next question.”

“That bad, huh?” When he didn't respond, she punched him lightly in the arm. “Come on, you told me about the thing with Logan. Why get all closed up now?”

The streetlights flickered over his face as the cab whisked them away from the restaurant. “My father's a control freak who was more concerned about his legacy at the FBI than about his son.”

“I don't understand.”

“After we found out that I couldn't maintain my position with the FBI police department because of my hearing, I wanted to take a break.” He stared out the window, his eyes distant. “I wanted to give myself some time to plan my next move. To assess what my injury meant to all my career aspirations.”

“But he didn't agree?”

“No. He had me shoved into a new position at the FBI as quickly as possible. He couldn't stand the thought that I might not follow in his precious footsteps.” He let out a bitter laugh. “And God forbid that anyone might think the son of Graham Odell had a moment of weakness.”

“How did he react when you decided to leave?”

“That argument could have woken the dead. He said I was being a quitter and I was being disloyal to the FBI and everything he'd done to help set me up there.” He paused. “We haven't spoken much since.”

“That's sad.”

Aiden shrugged. “We didn't have the best relationship before this, so it's nothing new.”

“Don't tell me that you don't want a relationship with him.” She reached out and touched his thigh. “I won't believe that for a second.”

“I do, but unfortunately that ship has sailed.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed. “I'm not going to let it stop me from living my life.”

Silence settled over them, and Quinn wondered if bringing Aiden home was actually a good idea—she didn't often have guests. Scratch that. She
never
had guests.

Even Alana didn't come around often. They usually went to her place to play games or watch movies because her couch wasn't in the same room as the bed, and you didn't have to climb over the coffee table slash footstool to get into the kitchen.

“So, did you grow up in Brooklyn?” she asked as the cab cruised through the streets.

The distant glow of Manhattan lit the night like a strange nighttime sun. It was hard not to notice how close Aiden's thigh was to hers on the seat, his magnetic power pouring out into the air around them, filling it with his masculinity.

“I actually live in the house I grew up in.” The streetlights flashed against his face, making his cheekbones look sharper and his jaw more angled.

“Where?”

“Park Slope,” he replied.

Of course he lives in the expensive part of town...

“I bet it's a beautiful house.”

“It is.” He nodded. “I'm lucky.”

“How come you're not married?” she blurted out.

“Gee, you're full of questions tonight.” He raised a brow.

“I mean it sounds like you come from money,” she barreled on. “You've got a decent job, you're...”

“I'm what?” He smirked in the near darkness.

“You're attractive.” She swallowed and hoped the heat in her cheeks wasn't showing. “Why no girl?”

“My work comes first.” He slid a hand along the back of the seat until it rested behind but didn't touch her. “A lot of girls think it's a thrill to date a guy in the Bureau, but then they realize it can be dangerous. And it takes up a lot of my time and energy. Then once the thrill is gone they don't want me anymore. They want someone with a nine-to-five job, someone safe.”

She bit down on her lip. “Safe isn't so bad, is it?”

“No. But it's not what I do. Sure, I'm not fighting a war. But we go up against some crazy, dangerous people...and sometimes they fight back. That kind of life isn't for everyone.”

Her fingertips reached out to him, almost of their own accord, and she traced the shell of his ear. “Is that how this happened? The incident you told me about, did someone fight back?”

“Yeah.” He covered her hand with his, pressing her palm flat against his ear and turning his face so that his lips grazed her skin.

The air crackled between them, alive with the promise of what would happen if he came up to her apartment. Of what she
wanted
to happen...of what she was also
terrified
of happening.

Warmth flowed through her, making everything ache and throb. The way he looked at her—as though he'd burn her up—made her sex clench. He pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed the pads of her fingertips, his full lips soft and hot. Just a taste, and she was ready to climb into his lap and take what she needed.

Him. All of him.

Instead, she asked, “What happened?”

“Another agent and I were serving an arrest warrant. When the guy didn't answer the door we went in, tried to clear the place. But he was hiding in a cupboard with a gun. When I tried to talk him out, he took a shot at me. Close range.” His face remained still as stone. “Luckily for me he was high as a fucking kite and he missed by a mile.”

“He could have killed you?” A tremor ran through her, the gravity of his story swirling around in her head like sand kicked up by a gust of wind. “How can you be so calm when you talk about it?”

“Because he
didn't
kill me and I'm grateful for that every goddamn day.” He pressed another kiss to the palm of her hand. “It sucks that my hearing is all messed up, but I'm still alive.”

The cab pulled up beside her apartment building and she paid quickly, forcing the cash into the cabbie's hand before Aiden could try and “expense” it.

For some reason, knowing that he might have died unleashed something inside her. A desire to live? Because she, too, could have been dead—or at least her attacker might not have been foiled at the last minute. She might not have been saved. But his outlook was logical, positive. He didn't live in fear of a gunman jumping out of a closet, so why should she?

Alone on the sidewalk, her quiet street had retired for the evening. Aiden stood next to the cab, the door still open and his arm resting on it.

“I should go,” he said.

“Don't.” She fisted her hands in his shirt and pressed her body against his.

The moment her hips bumped his and she felt the long, hard ridge of his erection against her belly, power flowed through her. She wanted him and she wasn't going to take no for an answer.

“Come upstairs.” Her lips brushed his jaw. “I want to finish what we started the other night.”

A moan escaped his lips and he ground his hips against hers. “Quinn, damn it...you're making this hard.”

“So hard you're serving up that perfect double entendre without even realizing it?” Her teeth nipped at his neck, the muscles there corded and straining. “Come with me. I'll make it more than hard.”

Aiden wrapped an arm around her waist and moved them out of the way of the cab, slamming the door shut behind him. “What do you want out of this?”

“Isn't it obvious?” She looped her arms around his neck and dragged his head down to hers.

She tasted beer on his breath as her lips moved over his, nudging his mouth open so her tongue could savor him. Her fingers tangled in the lengths of his hair, tugging and threading and gripping as she opened up to him.

“I want sex, Aiden. With you.”

His lashes brushed her temple as he rested his cheek against hers. “We can't let this get in the way of working together.”

“It won't, and believe me, I don't want anyone finding out.”

His deft fingers skated up the length of her neck, his thumbs brushing her cheekbones as he held her head in place. “Neither do I.”

“Then it's settled. You'll come upstairs, we'll enjoy one another's company and it'll be our little secret.” She punctuated the last three words with feather-light kisses along his jaw. “It's our business anyway. No one else needs to know.”

Anticipation skittered through her body, the promise of having him again lighting her up like the skyline at night. Glittering and vibrant.

“Why me?” he asked.

The question took her by surprise, and she covered it by grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the building. “What do you mean?”

“What you're doing now requires an amount of trust that you don't usually give people.” He held the door for her. “Or am I wrong?”

They entered the building and headed up to her first-floor apartment, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the quiet stairwell. Somewhere in the distance Latin music played and a child cried. A TV show blared from her neighbor's door. It almost covered the sound of the neighbors fighting.

“It's just sex, Aiden. Why are you trying to read more into it?” She avoided his eyes as she shoved the key into the lock, her hand trembling so that it took her a few goes to get it in properly.

“I want to make sure I don't end up on that list of guys who've hurt you.” His hands settled on her hips, and his breath was hot against her ear. “I want to know what your boundaries are.”