“I think it’s more than curiosity.”
“Like what?”
His soft chuckle made her mouth go dry. “Like maybe you’re hot for me.”
Her jaw dropped, and heat crept up her neck. “You are so wrong.”
“Then explain why your pulse races when I touch you.”
“If you’re referring to last night at my house, don’t forget I thought you were Forrester.”
“Only for a couple of seconds. Then you knew it was me, and your heart beat even faster.”
Damn, he had noticed. The fact that he spoke the truth only made her more determined to deny it. “You misinterpreted what you felt.”
“Is that so?” His hand left the steering wheel and settled on her forearm.
His fingers slid down toward her wrist in a gentle caress. Even though she knew his move was calculated, she couldn’t control her accelerating heart rate. Why was she reacting so intensely? He was hardly touching her.
She willed herself to ignore him and focus on the scenery rushing past the car.
A moment later, he turned his head and spoke in a husky voice. “How about we pull over…”
And do what? Her heart went wild at the possibilities.
“…and check out that pulse of yours?”
Shrugging off his hand, she said more sharply than she intended, “Watch the road. I saw a deer-crossing sign a few yards back.”
She stared straight ahead, hoping he’d take the hint.
“Sooner or later you’re going to run out of excuses to avoid the attraction between us.”
His self-satisfied tone irked her. “Are you familiar with the term ‘delusional'?”
“Are you familiar with the term ‘coward'?”
Her head whipped around. “What?”
“Why can’t you be honest about your feelings instead of hiding behind that psychobabble?”
“Psychobabble?” she said. “Why on earth would I be attracted to somebody who disparages what I do for a living?”
He had the gall to smile. “I don’t know.”
The man was impossible. No matter how much she denied the sparks between them, he wouldn’t believe her. But maybe she could convince him that the point was moot. “Even if I were attracted to you, nothing would happen between us.”
“Why not?”
“Given my position, it would be wrong to become personally involved—”
“—with a patient. I’m not a patient.”
“Not now.”
“Not ever,” he amended tartly.
“Doesn’t matter. I consider all agents to be off limits.”
He gave her a penetrating stare. “Why?”
“I have a rule about it.”
“Haven’t you heard? Rules are made—”
“—to be broken.” She shook her head. “Hardly reassuring words coming from a federal agent.” But she couldn’t prevent the hint of a smile that curved her lips. “You’re supposed to enforce the law.”
“Hey, I follow the rules in my job.”
“Like breaking and entering my house?”
He grinned. “Sometimes the rules require liberal interpretation.”
“Does Gene know that?”
“Gene knows I’d never cut the wrong corner.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“My personal life is a different story,” he told her. “There, I don’t worry about rules. I go with my impulses.”
And what impulses would those be? she couldn’t help but wonder. It would be better not to speculate. She was already finding him dangerously appealing. “I commend your flexible approach. But it doesn’t change how I feel.”
“Maybe you’re harboring resentment against my profession. And that’s the real reason you don’t date FBI guys.”
“You’re entitled to your opinion,” she said with a shrug. “However wrong it may be.”
A sign appeared on the side of the road, indicating they’d arrived at the outskirts of the city.
The last few minutes had distracted her, but now a shiver ran up her spine. Until Forrester was in custody, she wouldn’t feel safe here. But her fear didn’t matter. What mattered was tracking down his target before he did.
She only hoped they weren’t already too late.
BRENT DRUMMED HIS THUMBS on the steering wheel. Claire’s conviction not to get involved with an agent intrigued him. What was she hiding? Because he was certain she was hiding more than her feelings for him. Had she been burned before, maybe in a relationship with one of his colleagues? The possibility made him uncomfortable. He didn’t go for long-term relationships, but a woman who became involved with him did so knowing the score. Lots of men made promises they had no intention of keeping. Is that what had happened to make Claire wary?
Or maybe her “rule” was just a smokescreen? A way of not having to admit she was attracted to him. What did psychologists call that? Denial?
He, on the other hand, had no problem owning up to the attraction he felt. Their disagreements revved his engine because she was smart and focused. Her mouth looked infinitely kissable, and her thick, blond hair was sure to feel amazing against his bare skin. Last, but certainly not least, her curves had him hungering to learn every contour.
She didn’t know him well enough to realize that telling him about her “rule” had been a tactical error. He never accepted rules at face value. They always had to make sense to him. This one didn’t. This one seemed more like a challenge. And he never backed down from one of those.
Thinking of challenges reminded him of Forrester’s comments on the tape. What had happened to bend the bastard so out of shape? And whose life was in danger? Of course, the most pertinent question right now was, would a search of his house be productive or a colossal waste of time?
As he turned the corner onto Forrester’s street, he counted a dozen vehicles parked along the curb, including the one assigned to the surveillance team. He pulled into an empty spot and called the number Gene had given him.
“Riley Harris,” a voice answered.
The name wasn’t familiar, but frequent transfers made it hard to keep
