“I’ll add not being touchy to the list of promises.”
He was wrong about his effect on women. That smile alone was a killer. “All right.” She nodded. “A new start.”
V INCE HAD NEVER expected Chloe to be funny. Beneath that cool elegance lay a shyness that surprised him, along with a wicked sense of humor. Maybe the drink had relaxed her, but she’d only had one glass of wine. He’d like to think that perhaps their truce had helped. The first few minutes had been awkward, but they’d finally found something in common when he’d discovered that she loved playing darts. At last she appeared more comfortable around him.
He sure felt easy with her. This was what he’d needed: a respite from the gnawing in his gut, the sense of impotence when he had so much to accomplish.
Standing behind her, he scanned her from the honey-gold hair over a figure with more curves than he would have first guessed, all the way down long, long legs to trim ankles. She’d doffed her suit jacket, leaving her arms bare; she’d kicked her heels off under the table, and the tight French twist had strands escaping everywhere. Just now, her concentration was focused on only one thing—the dartboard in front of her.
Vince smiled. A fierce competitor, too—that had surprised him. She’d always seemed as if nothing really ruffled her, except that evening at the shelter. He was realizing that he’d bought into the facade, but beneath the patrician appearance lay someone altogether different, someone fascinating and elusive. Vince found himself wanting to uncover all her secrets.
You’ve got plenty else to investigate, Vince. Leave her alone. But the Vince who dared much cast sense to the winds and moved closer behind Chloe. “You’re going to bite off that tongue if you don’t stop sticking it out before you throw,” he murmured beside her ear.
She stiffened slightly but tossed a smirk in his direction. “Out of my way, Detective. You’re just hoping to throw me off.”
“And your point is…?”
She merely arched one slender eyebrow.
Damn, he wanted to touch her. He put up his hands in surrender but only backed up about six inches.
He could still feel the heat of her all along the front of him, and his body responded. Instead of grabbing her waist with both hands the way he’d prefer, he settled for one escaping lock of her hair, sliding it through his fingers.
Chloe went still. But she didn’t move away.
He exhaled, stirring the wisps at her nape.
A shiver rippled through her. From his height, he could see her nipples peak beneath the thin silk of her blouse. The hand that held the dart trembled, but she didn’t turn around.
This was insane. Swallowing hard, he moved aside, striving to lighten things. “You know, you’ve got one hell of an aim.”
“Thanks.” Her gaze darted toward him and quickly back.
“For a girl, that is.” He grinned.
Her chin rose. “Those are fighting words, Detective.” Squaring her shoulders, she studied the board.
Vince looked down for a brief second, aware that he’d just dodged a bullet. He had to be crazy to even consider letting this go any further.
Chloe did a little skip-dance and clapped, eyes sparkling as she pointed out the dart sitting squarely in the center.
Well, hell. Everybody knew he had a taste for danger.
T HE RIDE BACK to her car passed in silence. He wanted, more than was wise, to shoot past the right exit and take her home with him, but even if he thought she’d let him, he didn’t dare. Tino was supposed to make contact tonight.
Chloe sat, legs curled beneath her, head leaning against one hand, elbow propped against the door frame. Light shifted over her as they passed each street lamp, tendrils of hair escaping her tight French twist, flying in the breeze swooping over the windshield. He kept waiting for her to ask him to put the top up, but she seemed not to mind the whip of the wind.
“Home Warehouse,” she murmured. “I’ve spent
He was wrong about his effect on women. That smile alone was a killer. “All right.” She nodded. “A new start.”
V INCE HAD NEVER expected Chloe to be funny. Beneath that cool elegance lay a shyness that surprised him, along with a wicked sense of humor. Maybe the drink had relaxed her, but she’d only had one glass of wine. He’d like to think that perhaps their truce had helped. The first few minutes had been awkward, but they’d finally found something in common when he’d discovered that she loved playing darts. At last she appeared more comfortable around him.
He sure felt easy with her. This was what he’d needed: a respite from the gnawing in his gut, the sense of impotence when he had so much to accomplish.
Standing behind her, he scanned her from the honey-gold hair over a figure with more curves than he would have first guessed, all the way down long, long legs to trim ankles. She’d doffed her suit jacket, leaving her arms bare; she’d kicked her heels off under the table, and the tight French twist had strands escaping everywhere. Just now, her concentration was focused on only one thing—the dartboard in front of her.
Vince smiled. A fierce competitor, too—that had surprised him. She’d always seemed as if nothing really ruffled her, except that evening at the shelter. He was realizing that he’d bought into the facade, but beneath the patrician appearance lay someone altogether different, someone fascinating and elusive. Vince found himself wanting to uncover all her secrets.
You’ve got plenty else to investigate, Vince. Leave her alone. But the Vince who dared much cast sense to the winds and moved closer behind Chloe. “You’re going to bite off that tongue if you don’t stop sticking it out before you throw,” he murmured beside her ear.
She stiffened slightly but tossed a smirk in his direction. “Out of my way, Detective. You’re just hoping to throw me off.”
“And your point is…?”
She merely arched one slender eyebrow.
Damn, he wanted to touch her. He put up his hands in surrender but only backed up about six inches.
He could still feel the heat of her all along the front of him, and his body responded. Instead of grabbing her waist with both hands the way he’d prefer, he settled for one escaping lock of her hair, sliding it through his fingers.
Chloe went still. But she didn’t move away.
He exhaled, stirring the wisps at her nape.
A shiver rippled through her. From his height, he could see her nipples peak beneath the thin silk of her blouse. The hand that held the dart trembled, but she didn’t turn around.
This was insane. Swallowing hard, he moved aside, striving to lighten things. “You know, you’ve got one hell of an aim.”
“Thanks.” Her gaze darted toward him and quickly back.
“For a girl, that is.” He grinned.
Her chin rose. “Those are fighting words, Detective.” Squaring her shoulders, she studied the board.
Vince looked down for a brief second, aware that he’d just dodged a bullet. He had to be crazy to even consider letting this go any further.
Chloe did a little skip-dance and clapped, eyes sparkling as she pointed out the dart sitting squarely in the center.
Well, hell. Everybody knew he had a taste for danger.
T HE RIDE BACK to her car passed in silence. He wanted, more than was wise, to shoot past the right exit and take her home with him, but even if he thought she’d let him, he didn’t dare. Tino was supposed to make contact tonight.
Chloe sat, legs curled beneath her, head leaning against one hand, elbow propped against the door frame. Light shifted over her as they passed each street lamp, tendrils of hair escaping her tight French twist, flying in the breeze swooping over the windshield. He kept waiting for her to ask him to put the top up, but she seemed not to mind the whip of the wind.
“Home Warehouse,” she murmured. “I’ve spent
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