Undercover Lover (36 page)
“I’m sorry I screwed up,” she said. He tried to shush her but she pressed her fingers over his mouth. “No. Let me finish.”
He pursed his lips.
“Thank you.” She continued. “I think you were right about not wanting me on the street, trying to protect your clients. No matter my reputation. I don’t know nearly what I’d need to know to keep them safe. Not yet.”
His brows arched. He hadn’t expected her to give in so easily—had prepared himself days ago for a showdown with her once he reentered her life. And he would have reentered it, though until tonight he hadn’t known how.
“Don’t go getting all cocky,” she said then smirked. “It’ll get you killed.”
He breathed a laugh at having his words thrown back at him. “So how should I feel? You’re in my bed and I’ve won the argument.”
“I still want to work for you.” Pushing herself up against the pillows she gauged his reaction.
He pushed his fingers through his hair in a gesture that signaled his blooming agitation. “I don’t understand.”
“I won’t be your accountant, but I can do behind-the-scenes investigative work—and maybe Simon could teach me some of what he knows about electronic surveillance? I’ve proven I’m good with pattern recognition and passwords. And maybe, sometimes, you’ll let me go on jobs with you?”
Chewing on her lip, she eyed him worriedly, and Günter saw then how important this was to her—to chart her own course along an unconventional path. Just like her brother. He smiled at the thought.
“What?” she asked, and he saw her fists ball at her sides as she prepared to fight him.
“I was thinking I couldn’t find a more dedicated employee,” he teased. “Think of the overtime you’ll put in—the fringe benefits you’ll give back to your employer.”
Grabbing a pillow, she whacked him in the face. He growled and she shrieked as he rolled her over, facedown on the mattress.
“Now we do it my way,” he said, thinking of the thousand lines of attack he could use to breach her barriers and tear down her defenses.
“What makes you think it’s your way?” she asked, wiggling her backside against his awakening cock.
“Fine,” he agreed, and claimed her wrists with his cuffs. “We’ll do it our way.”
Tibby Armstrong began writing at age eleven when a kiss in a YA book fell short of her expectations. As a teenager, she snuck Kathleen Woodiwiss novels from her aunt’s bookshelves, and devoured a forbidden volume of Victorian erotica.
While she has since broadened her reading tastes to include science fiction, urban fantasy, biographies and a strange addiction to monographs, her favorite books still feature edgy alpha heroes, and the women (and men) who drive them to distraction.
When she’s not writing, Tibby works toward defying librarian stereotypes—yet she lives with four cats, two computers and enough books to collapse a poorly engineered house.
Tibby welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her
author bio page
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www.ellorascave.com
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Tibby Armstrong
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