New York's Finest Rebel. Trish Wylie
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The ‘babe’ thing was really starting to get to her.
Taking a step closer, he leaned his face close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath on her cheeks.
‘Bad idea,’ he warned.
Ignoring the flutter of her pulse, Jo stiffened her spine. Since childhood she’d had a code she lived by; one she still found hard to break, even for the tiny handful of people she allowed to occupy an equally tiny corner of her heart. Show any sign of weakness and it was the beginning of the end. The masks she wore were the reason she had survived a time in her life when she was invisible. At the beginning of her career they gave the impression professional criticism never stung. So while her heart thudded erratically, she donned a mask of Zen-like calm. ‘Am I supposed to be intimidated by that?’
He smiled dangerously in reply. ‘Keep challenging me and this is going to get real interesting, real quick.’
‘Seriously, you’re hilarious. I never knew that about you.’ Raising a hand, she patted him in the centre of his broad chest. ‘Now be a good boy and treat yourself to an early night. Can’t have those good looks fading, now, can we?’ She flattened her palm and pushed him back to make enough room to open the door. ‘What would we use to fool members of the opposite sex into thinking we’re a catch if we had to rely on our personality?’
‘You tell me.’
Moving her hand from his chest, she wrapped her fingers around a muscled upper arm and encouraged him to step through the door with another push. When he was standing in the hall and looking at her with a hint of a smile on his face, she leaned her shoulder against the door frame and angled her chin. Her eyes narrowed. It felt as if he knew something she didn’t.
She hated when he did that.
‘Admit it: you missed this.’
Lifting her gaze upwards, she studied the air and took a deep breath. ‘Nope, can’t say I did.’
‘Without me around there’s no one to set you straight when you need it.’
‘You say that as if you know me well enough to know what I need.’ She shook her head. ‘You don’t know me, Daniel. You’re afraid to get to know me.’
‘Really,’ he said dryly.
‘Yes, really, because if you did you might have to admit you were wrong about me and we both know you don’t like to admit you’re wrong about anything.’ She glanced up and down the hall as if searching for eavesdroppers before lowering her voice. ‘Worse still, you might discover you like me. And we can’t have that, can we?’
Rocking forward, he lowered his voice to the same level. ‘I don’t think there’s any danger of that.’
Jo searched his too-blue eyes, suddenly questioning if he even remembered how the war between them began. Looking back, she realized she didn’t; what was it that made him so much more difficult to get along with than every other member of his family? Everyone got to a point where they started to try and make sense of their life. She was at peace with a lot of the things she couldn’t change. But since Daniel was the only person she’d ever been immature around in her entire life, she couldn’t help but wonder why. Apparently he wasn’t the only one in need of a good night’s rest.
She rolled her eyes at the momentary weakness. ‘Whatever you tell yourself to help you sleep at night.’
‘I sleep just fine,’ he said tightly. ‘You don’t need to worry about me.’
‘I wasn’t—’
‘Just do us both a favour and stay out of my business. If you don’t, I might start poking my nose into yours.’
‘I have nothing to hide,’ she lied. ‘Do you?’
‘Don’t push me, babe.’
She managed to stop the words or what? leaving her lips, but it wasn’t solely the need to strive for maturity. There was something else going on; she could feel it. It was more than the chill in his gaze, more than the rigid set of his shoulders or the unmistakable edge of warning in his deep voice. What was it?
As if he could read the question in her eyes, Daniel frowned and turned his profile to her. A muscle tensed on his jaw, suggesting he was grinding his teeth together. But even if she had the right to ask what was wrong, before she had the chance, he turned away. When she ended up staring at his door again, she blinked and shook her head.
Well, Day One had been great.
She couldn’t wait for Day Two.
CHAPTER TWO
‘Is it just me or does coffee taste better when they make those little love hearts in the foam? It’s funny the things that can make a difference in how we feel.’
JORJA DAWSON had breasts. Considering he was a man and she was a woman, part of Daniel’s brain had to have always known that. Fortunately, in the past, they had never been pressed against his chest in a way that made them difficult to ignore.
It was the kind of intel he could have done without.
Judging by the way the tips of those breasts were beaded against the material of her tight-fitting top before she hid them beneath folded arms, the spark of sexual awareness had been mutual. She should just be thankful he had an honourable streak. If she ever found out he’d been as aware of her as she was of him, she would have a brand-new weapon at her disposal. One that, were she foolish enough to use it, would leave him no choice but to launch a counterattack with heavy artillery until she offered her unconditional surrender.
In terms of fallout, it would be similar to pulling the pin on a grenade he couldn’t toss to a safe distance.
Number two on his list: sister’s best friend.
Since every guy on the planet who didn’t have long-term plans knew to avoid that minefield, it wouldn’t matter if she wore nothing but lacy underwear to go with the shoes he would have been happy for her to wear to bed. She could have pole-danced for him and he would still resist the urge to kiss her.
‘Whatever you tell yourself to help you sleep at night.’
When the echoed words led directly to the memory of the unspoken questions in her eyes, he pushed his body harder in the last block of a five mile run. She’d hit a nerve but there was no way she could know he wasn’t sleeping. Or that he was sick of waking up bathed in a cold sweat, his throat raw from yelling. It had to stop before he did something stupid in work again or was forced to look for another apartment. He would damn well make it stop.
But distracting himself from the problem with thoughts of Jorja Dawson’s breasts wasn’t the way to go about it.
Slowing his pace to a walk, he shouldered his way into a busy coffee shop and pushed back the hood on his sweatshirt. After placing his order, he looked around while he waited for it to arrive, his gaze discovering a woman sitting alone by the windows. It was exactly what he needed: another woman.
Questioning