Running Hot (15 page)

Her head tilted to the side, and all traces of anger fled her expression and body language. “Ward, that's not true. I never viewed you that way.”

“Now I'm sorry I ever let you leave.” He slipped his fingers through her hair. “Please give me a chance to prove I'm not an ass.”

“You're not.” Her hands found their way to his waist and rested there. “And you are not weak. You might actually be the toughest guy I know.”

“Then you should take a chance on me.”

She winced. “You understand that if you get this job, I'll be your boss.”

“Doesn't bother me.” He ducked his head to meet her eye to eye. “You being strong and smart and beautiful doesn't threaten me.”

“I believe you.” She nodded. “You showed me that several times.”

Hope grabbed on inside of him. She wasn't pushing him away or making him pay for what happened. She might not understand. It could take weeks, maybe even months for that, but he'd wait. For her, he'd learn to be patient.

“And I checked. I can date the boss.” That was a dealbreaker for him. That and bringing Ford along with him.

She pulled back, and her mouth dropped open. “What?”

“That was one of my conditions when I said I would take the job.”

She shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

“I told the higher-ups that I was already falling for you and would not stop just because I was in an office and attending meetings with you.” It was his turn to wince. “I also admitted that you weren't all that fond of me right now, so I had to work to put us back together again.”

“Falling for?”

He decided it was a good sign she grabbed onto that. The way her fingers tightened on his skin probably meant he had a chance, too. “That old guy with the heavy British accent nearly spit up his tea, but he got it.”

“I'm trying to imagine that scene.”

Her wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in tighter against him. The feel of her body along his eased some of the constant burning in his gut. “Look, I can follow orders at the office. So long as at home I get to be in charge, and by that I mean in the bedroom.”

“That sounds . . .” She smiled. “Wait, at home?”

“Did I forget to tell you I don't have a place to live?” He wanted to be in every part of her life. He could wait on some, and would, but he was tired of sitting around not saying anything.

“You're being pretty presumptuous.” Tough words, but her hands slid up his back.

He cupped her face. “I want it all.”

“Are you sure?”

He balanced his forehead against hers and inhaled her scent. “Any chance you missed me?”

She placed a quick kiss on his lips. “Every single day. I was sick with it.”

“Thank God.” Relief washed through him. He closed his eyes to get his bearings, and when he opened them again, she was staring at him.

“Nice.”

“We can make this work.” He knew that was true. Believed it with every cell and every muscle. “Because honestly, I've tried living without you and I don't like it.”

She sighed. “I can be difficult.”

“I think you're sexy.” And to show how much he meant it, he kissed her. No soft and sweet. No, this was deep. Full of need with a promise of the future.

When they broke apart, her breathing had grown heavier. She rested her cheek against his. “You're not going to win every argument with that kind of thing.”

He could live with that. “Will I win any?”

“Yes.”

Even better.
“Then I think you should take me home and have your way with me.”

She smiled. “In Britain we call that
shagging
.”

They were finally back on the same page. “I thought you'd never ask.”

 

Keep reading for a sneak peek at

PLAYING DIRTY

by HelenKay Dimon,

the first full-length novel in the BAD BOYS UNDERCOVER series.

On sale everywhere January 27, 2015.

A Sneak Peek at

PLAYING DIRTY

As an elite Alliance agent—the joint undercover operation of M16, the British Secret Intelligence Service, and the CIA—Ford Decker lives for the adrenaline. But when he befriends sexy property manager Shay Alexander in hopes of finding her cousin, a known national security threat, Ford crosses the line, getting to know her better . . . in bed.

After being burned by her last relationship, Shay wants to take things slow. Yet she can't keep her hands off the drop-dead gorgeous hottie who's moved into her apartment building. So when Ford's identity as an undercover agent is exposed, his betrayal cuts deep. Shay never wants to see him again, but Ford can't let her go, not when her life is still in danger. He will sacrifice everything to protect her, then be prepared to walk away from the only woman he's ever loved, even if it breaks him.

S
HAY
A
LEXANDER HEARD
the dueling sounds of off-key humming and a blaring radio as she entered her first-floor condo. She closed the door to shut out the traffic noise and mumble of conversation from people walking by on the sidewalk, but the bad singing remained.

Town houses and stately old homes converted to apartments and condos lined this street in the Dupont Circle area of DC. The Metro sat a few blocks away, and the prime real estate location kept the prices high, which was good since she managed the building and two others for her uncle. She lived alone in the Beaux Arts-style place, which had served as a home to one family in the forties and had since been divided into a twenty-unit complex.

Her small one-bedroom came with the job. The perfect size for a single person, but she'd been fitting two of them in quite nicely on and off for the past three weeks. Which brought her mind back to the not-really-singing thing happening at the back of her condo.

The deep male voice lured her through the family room to the kitchen that ran along the side of the old building. From the doorway she noticed half of the contents of the navy toolbox lay scattered over her tile floor. A can of soda and an open bag of chips sat on the edge of the sink. She didn't know where the snacks came from because buying chips inevitably resulted in her Hoovering the bag in one sitting, so she never stepped one foot into that aisle in the grocery store. That was as far as her chip self-control extended.

The radio, set to deafening, sat on the small table pressed up against the opposite wall. She spied the sneakers next and tiptoed, careful not to tramp down too hard with her boots. There was no need to give away her position. Not when she could steal a moment of looking at him.

Legs, long and lean, stuck out from under her sink. A sliver of bare, trim waist peeked out from the space where his faded jeans and the bottom of what looked like a T-shirt should meet. The unexpected sight of a guy on the floor might scare another woman, but not her. Not those legs, and surely not the impressive male body attached to them.

She winced over a particularly rough note and reached over to turn the radio down. The chips were right there, so she grabbed one. Then two.

“You're back,” she said, munching over the salt-and-fat frenzy in her mouth.

Tools clanked, and something thudded. An impressive string of profanity came next. “Shay?”

“Who else?” She still hadn't seen that hot face, with the dark scruff around his chin and those intense green eyes. The guy was of the pure Tall, Dark, and Oh-So-Hot variety. She hated to admit she could stare at him for long periods of time. Look, and totally miss whatever he said.

After rubbing the salt from her fingertips on her jeans, she crouched down, balancing on the balls of her feet, and tried to get a peek at his T-shirt of the day. The graphics ranged from ridiculous to innuendo-filled. None could be classified as appropriate for outside the home. She had no idea where he got them, but she sure enjoyed the ongoing show.

“Hey.” He lifted his head and clunked it off the side of a pipe. “Shit.”

“Smooth.”

He rubbed his temple. “I'm seeing two of you right now.”

The scruff was thicker than usual and wasn't that the sexiest thing ever. “You deserved that.”

“Hey, I'm fixing your leak.” He slid out. The move rolled his shirt up his torso and showed off skin . . . and muscles . . . Yeah, forget the T-shirt.

Minor handyman tasks fit in with her job description, but ever since he moved into the two-bedroom across the hall, he'd volunteered to help out. He worked as an IT specialist, handling computer systems for large companies and always on call. But, man, he looked good with a wrench in his hand. She liked him best bare-chested and fixing something.

His smile reeled her in, but she pretended to be immune, or at least a little in control. “You're a plumber now?”

“Want to see my tools?”

The eyebrow wiggle almost did her in. “Wow, that was terrible.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” With one hand wrapped around the lip of the sink, he pulled his body up and stood, stopping only for a quick kiss on her mouth. He extended a hand and brought her up beside him before her mind could take in every amazing inch of his six-foot frame. “It was the only line I could think of after a few hours of restless plane sleep and armrest wrangling with the guy in 15B. Give me a few minutes and my moves will catch up to the time zone jumps.”

He traveled all the time. In and out, always grabbing a duffel bag and heading off to fix some emergency. Sometimes texting her at one in the morning to announce he'd gotten back, then knocking on her door to come in for a visit. He'd moved in three weeks ago. The sex started about two days after that.

The relationship—or whatever it was—ran on fast forward from the first day. She'd seen his T-shirt with the piglet playing poker on it, and for some reason her control nosedived. Never mind that it was then October and cold and any sane person would wear a jacket or at least a sweater. He claimed DC was the South and was warm. She guessed that meant he grew up in the Midwest or Vermont or, hell, even Canada. Somewhere cold. Not that he'd shared any part of his past with her . . . yet. His body, yes. The basic information, no.

She pushed the nagging thought out of her head and ran a finger over the prickly scruff on his chin. “How was the conference?”

“Long and tedious.”

“I imagined you hanging out in a bar talking computer code over beers.”

He snorted. “More like security measures. Firewalls and rotating IPs.”

With that, her already limited interest in the subject of computer tech fizzled out. Him putting his hands on her waist didn't help her focus one bit. She ran her hand over his shirt and smoothed it down over his torso. Today's version featured a cigar-smoking rat.

Of course it did.

“That is something else.” The graphic, the abs . . . the comment worked for both.

He backed her up until her backside balanced against the counter. “Yeah, I've been subjected to some pretty boring lectures and bad conference chicken.”

She kicked the wrench rocking under her heel to the side and lifted her arms to circle his neck. “You poor thing.”

“And my bed was very cold.” He shook his head, even pouted, as he delivered the statement in his most pathetic poor-me tone.

“Are you looking for pity?” She slipped her hand into his hair, as she always did. Something about the length, as if he were growing out a military cut, appealed to her as she wove the softness through her fingers.

His eyebrow lifted. “If that would work.”

“You're getting there.”

She'd been so sure he was former army—or something—and asked him about it the first week. Nothing in his renter's agreement talked about military service, but she got the vibe. Service members moved in and out of DC all the time. She got the routine and recognized the straight stance and assured conversation. And he had the confident walk and toned body down.

He'd listened to her assessment and laughed it off, insisting his smartass ways would have gotten him kicked out on the first day. She pretty much agreed with that.

“I'm willing to do almost anything to lure you into bed,” he said in a heated voice.

“Interesting.” And more than a little tempting. After all, he was an expert with that tongue, and not just for talking.

He pulled her in closer, wrapping her in his arms and pressing his chest against hers. “Next time we'll have to schedule in some phone-sex time while I'm gone. Imagine me ordering you to touch yourself. Pretty damn hot.”

Her heart did a little jig at the thought. Saying “next time” meant whatever they had wasn't going away. For now, knowing that but little else was enough. Soon she'd need more. “You gotta tone down this sweet-talking or it will go to my head.”

Before she could laugh, he lowered his head and treated her to a welcome-home kiss that had her wanting to tie him in a chair to keep from leaving again. Hot and firm, he took control and dragged her under. His hands rubbed up and down her back as his mouth crossed over hers. When that sweet tongue slipped inside and met with hers, she dug her fingernails into his shirt. Almost dug through the cotton to hit skin.

He pulled back just far enough to stare down at her. The room spun, and she held on to his shoulders to keep from falling down as babble filled her brain. “What?”

“I can spit-shine my lines until they're clever, but we both know you're the gatekeeper.”

She wasn't exactly sure what he was talking about but she liked the sound of it. “Damn right.”

“And I am your sex slave.” His voice dipped low until it skidded across her senses.

She clenched her fingers even tighter against his shoulders. Had to clear her throat a few times before finally spitting out a word. “Nice.”

Those strong hands slipped down her back to land on her ass. “The green light is totally in your control.”