Cold Shot by Dani Pettrey Page B

her. “I can’t help if my mind wonders.”
    “We both know where your mind wanders to. And . . .” She placed her palm on his chest, halting his advance. “That’s not happening.”
    He placed his hand over hers, and she refused to acknowledge the reaction his touch provoked. “Must you always assume the worst of me?”
    She yanked her hand away. “Your reputation precedes you.”
    “Reputation and reality are often two vastly different things.”
    “You’re denying the rumors?” That he was a player who could charm his way into a woman’s heart and bed without batting an eye. With his looks and killer Irish accent, it wasn’t hard to believe.
    He cocked his head, a delicious smile quirking his lips. “Now don’t tell me you’ve been listening to water-cooler gossip? Really, Tate, I didn’t think you the type.”
    To gossip? Absolutely not. To keep her distance from charmers? You bet. “Charm is nothing more than deceit.”
    He arched a dark brow. “So you find me charming?”
    “Clearly you didn’t hear what I just said.”
    “I took in everything you said—spoken and unspoken.”
    “I told you, stop reading me.”
    “ Listening . I’m listening to you.”
    And she was excruciatingly tempted to ask what he heard, what he learned, but she was terrified he might actually peg her correctly—that she couldn’t hide from him. “Then you heard I’m not interested.”
    His phone rang, and his eyes widened at the number. “Griff?” he asked, answering it. “What? We’ll be right there.”
    Avery frowned. “What’s up?”
    “Someone broke into and bugged Finley’s home.”

17
    F inley sat on the couch, trying her best not to freak out as a handful of federal agents swept her home for listening devices. While waiting for Declan and his team to arrive, she and Griffin had quickly conducted their own search, locating two additional bugs in her kitchen and home office.
    Her stomach knotted as the realization that a stranger had been in her home again burrowed deep inside her burgeoning fear. She stood, pacing, praying the room would stop spinning, that the floating feeling would decrease.
    Please don’t let me pass out in front of Griffin.
    The horrifically embarrassing thought rattled through her, her stomach squeezing the breath from her lungs. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she be stronger? So a man had been in her home. It sadly happened to lots of folks, and they probably didn’t completely freak out. If only she were stronger.
    “We got two more,” Declan said, entering the front room.
    Her heart tightened. “Where?”
    “Your den.”
    She swallowed, sensing there was more. “And?”
    Declan’s gaze darted to Griffin.
    Why was he hesitating? What could be any worse?
    Declan exhaled. “Your bedroom.”
    A cold, pulsating wave washed over her. “They put a bug in my bedroom?”
    “Not exactly.”
    She wrapped her arms across her chest, clinging tight.
    “What?” Griffin’s one word communicated the raw intensity of emotion surging through her.
    “We found this.” Declan held up a marble-size device.
    She leaned forward, squinting through her narrowing vision. “What is that?”
    Griffin released a heated exhale. “A camera.”
    Nausea catapulted in her gut.
    “We found it in a stuffed monkey.”
    “A keepsake from my trip to Nevis.” It sat on the shelf opposite her bed and brought a smile to her face when she woke. She swallowed the acid bubbling up her throat. Someone could have been watching her sleep, wake . . . dress . . . ? The world tilted on its axis, spinning. She blinked, struggling to find purchase.
    Griffin placed his hand on her neck, gently lowering her into a chair and then dipping her head. “Deep breaths.”
    She inhaled rapidly.
    “Slower.” His firm voice held a world of comfort. “Deeper.”
    She listened. A handful of breaths later, she sat up, the space no longer spinning. “Thank you.”
    “We’ll get this guy.” The steely