them.
“I wouldn’t have expected such an honest reaction from an undercover Branch Agent.”
As every muscle in Sloan’s body went taut, Baine’s grip tightened on her hands. Not painfully so. Just enough to pull her back from the edge of sanity. Back from pulling her knife and going to work on everyone in the room she could get to before she got blown to bits.
“Relax,” he whispered. “I don't want to fight you. I watched you take out Bull in D.C. and I know how handy you are with a knife.”
His lips grazed her cheek, and then he was there, resting his forehead on hers. Those deep blue eyes exploring hers.
“So,” he added, “do us both a favor and keep that purse tucked under your arm.”
Bastard .
He released her hands and straightened, her gaze now level with his throat. Sloan stood stunned like a piece of petrified wood. How in the fuck did he know she was a Branch Agent? Even Branch Agents didn’t know all of the other Branch Agents. She wasn’t one for profanities, but if ever a situation called for one or a hundred…
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
His lips spread into a thin smile and he leaned closer. “It takes brass balls to stand there after that kind of blow. I’m impressed.”
She smiled back, mirthlessly. “Don’t be. It doesn’t take balls when you’re a person with nothing to lose.”
Baine’s brow pinched and his smile faded. “That’s unfortunate, because I need you to have a bit of self-preservation, if we’re going to make it through this week.”
Sloan ran her hand up his tie, ignoring the hard topography of his chest. At his collar she looped in three fingers and pulled. To anyone else it would look like an embrace. Her other hand snaked up his throat, ready to strike him hard and fast in the esophagus. Big or small, people went down when they couldn’t breathe.
In turn he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. “Are you going to hurt me?”
“Maybe,” she growled into his ear. “Why didn’t you kill me in D.C. and why am I still alive?”
“I hate to see such a nice rack go to waste?”
“Try again,” she threatened, adding pressure with both her hands.
“All right.” His head turned and his lips captured hers.
She didn’t fight him. There was no use, in a room full of people who expected her to do exactly what she was doing—seducing Baine Kendrick. Being seduced by him wasn’t in either of her job descriptions. But damn, if his lips weren’t the hottest things she’d ever felt. They melted her resolve into a puddle and had her hands breaking rank. Her fingers left the stubble of his neck and delved into his hair. She clutched the softness, holding him to her.
His tongue caressed her top lip and without hesitation she opened and allowed him in. Their tongues collided in battle. One overpowering the other again and again until they both panted for air.
He turned his head gently, breaking the kiss. “How was that?”
“Just playing a role, Kendrick.”
“Ah, you keep on telling yourself that, lovely. Maybe you’ll believe it, but I wouldn’t count on it. And how about you stick to Baine, when you call my name?”
“You still haven’t answered my question,” she said against his pulse, which wasn’t the only one in the room galloping.
“Would you look at that,” he said in feigned disappointment. “No time to chat. Dinner is served.”
14
E very time his son walked into the room, pride swelled Devereaux’s chest. Not that his fit torso needed any help standing out. Mid-fifties and he bagged babes less than half his age. Without paying for it. Still, he’d created a work of art from thin air, starting by sharing his impeccable genes and ending with the way he had carved out his son’s ruthless nature.
He rubbed his hand over the lump at his heart.
It had been touch and go for a while. A long while. Baine was such a damn nice kid. It took years of paring to find his selfish core. Maturity helped. The testosterone, sheer
“I wouldn’t have expected such an honest reaction from an undercover Branch Agent.”
As every muscle in Sloan’s body went taut, Baine’s grip tightened on her hands. Not painfully so. Just enough to pull her back from the edge of sanity. Back from pulling her knife and going to work on everyone in the room she could get to before she got blown to bits.
“Relax,” he whispered. “I don't want to fight you. I watched you take out Bull in D.C. and I know how handy you are with a knife.”
His lips grazed her cheek, and then he was there, resting his forehead on hers. Those deep blue eyes exploring hers.
“So,” he added, “do us both a favor and keep that purse tucked under your arm.”
Bastard .
He released her hands and straightened, her gaze now level with his throat. Sloan stood stunned like a piece of petrified wood. How in the fuck did he know she was a Branch Agent? Even Branch Agents didn’t know all of the other Branch Agents. She wasn’t one for profanities, but if ever a situation called for one or a hundred…
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
His lips spread into a thin smile and he leaned closer. “It takes brass balls to stand there after that kind of blow. I’m impressed.”
She smiled back, mirthlessly. “Don’t be. It doesn’t take balls when you’re a person with nothing to lose.”
Baine’s brow pinched and his smile faded. “That’s unfortunate, because I need you to have a bit of self-preservation, if we’re going to make it through this week.”
Sloan ran her hand up his tie, ignoring the hard topography of his chest. At his collar she looped in three fingers and pulled. To anyone else it would look like an embrace. Her other hand snaked up his throat, ready to strike him hard and fast in the esophagus. Big or small, people went down when they couldn’t breathe.
In turn he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. “Are you going to hurt me?”
“Maybe,” she growled into his ear. “Why didn’t you kill me in D.C. and why am I still alive?”
“I hate to see such a nice rack go to waste?”
“Try again,” she threatened, adding pressure with both her hands.
“All right.” His head turned and his lips captured hers.
She didn’t fight him. There was no use, in a room full of people who expected her to do exactly what she was doing—seducing Baine Kendrick. Being seduced by him wasn’t in either of her job descriptions. But damn, if his lips weren’t the hottest things she’d ever felt. They melted her resolve into a puddle and had her hands breaking rank. Her fingers left the stubble of his neck and delved into his hair. She clutched the softness, holding him to her.
His tongue caressed her top lip and without hesitation she opened and allowed him in. Their tongues collided in battle. One overpowering the other again and again until they both panted for air.
He turned his head gently, breaking the kiss. “How was that?”
“Just playing a role, Kendrick.”
“Ah, you keep on telling yourself that, lovely. Maybe you’ll believe it, but I wouldn’t count on it. And how about you stick to Baine, when you call my name?”
“You still haven’t answered my question,” she said against his pulse, which wasn’t the only one in the room galloping.
“Would you look at that,” he said in feigned disappointment. “No time to chat. Dinner is served.”
14
E very time his son walked into the room, pride swelled Devereaux’s chest. Not that his fit torso needed any help standing out. Mid-fifties and he bagged babes less than half his age. Without paying for it. Still, he’d created a work of art from thin air, starting by sharing his impeccable genes and ending with the way he had carved out his son’s ruthless nature.
He rubbed his hand over the lump at his heart.
It had been touch and go for a while. A long while. Baine was such a damn nice kid. It took years of paring to find his selfish core. Maturity helped. The testosterone, sheer
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