bosom.
‘Yes, sir, coming right up.’ The girl jumped to attention. ‘That’ll be six dollars fifty, sir.’
Iona rolled her eyes. What was with the sir? Couldn’t Serena see Detective Sexy already had an ego the size of Mars? Stroking it would turn it into a supernova.
He paid for the food, thanked Serena with what Iona guessed must have been the full dimple effect—because the girl’s face went radioactive—then drove to the pick-up window.
‘Here, hold these.’ he passed her the two grease-spotted paper bags.
The delicious aroma of grilled meat and freshly fried potatoes swirled around Iona as he steered the car to a parking space one-handed while taking a loud slurp of his malt.
A giant chasm opened in her stomach and began to weep as she thrust the bags back as soon as the car was stationary. ‘Why did you get two?’ she snapped, drool pooling under her tongue. ‘I told you I’m not hungry.’
Was he trying to torture her?
‘They’re both for me.’ He patted what appeared to be a washboard-lean stomach, the rueful twist of his lips mocking her. ‘Stake-outs are hungry work and all I’ve had since lunch is ten Twinkies and a gallon of Dr Pepper.’
She glared across the console. ‘My heart bleeds for you.’
The mention of the sugary treats was torturous enough, but then he produced an enormous cheeseburger from one of the takeout bags.
The lurid orange substance that passed for cheese dripped from the sesame-seed bun as the savoury scent filled the car. The chasm in Iona’s stomach yawned as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down while he demolished the cheeseburger, then made equally fast work of the fries. The crunch of crisp golden potato and the heady fragrance sent her taste buds into overdrive.
He balled up the empty bag and flipped it into a bin outside the car window. She licked her lips as her stomach rolled into her throat.
One down, one to go.
He peered into the second bag, lifted out the last cheeseburger. Wrapping the serviette round one half, he brought it to his lips in slow motion.
‘Wait.’ Her hand shot out to grab hold of one thick wrist as the lion howled.
‘Something you want?’ His tone sounded strangely alluring in the darkness. Her tortured gaze met his mocking one.
‘Yes…I…’ Her tongue swelled, the drool choking her. ‘Please.’
One dark eyebrow lifted. ‘Please, what?’
The bastard was going to make her beg.
‘Could I have a wee bite?’ She begged, ready to sacrifice her pride, her self-respect and anything else he might want for one little nibble.
The intensely blue gaze dipped as her teeth dug into her bottom lip—and the pinpricks radiated up and out from all those inappropriate places. She dismissed her response. It had to be some weird physical reaction brought on by starvation.
She waited, ready for him to torture her some more, but to her relief his lips quirked—making the damn dimple wink at her—and he handed over the precious burger. ‘Knock yourself out.’
She paused for a second as her fingers sank into the spongy bun, then ripped off a huge chunk with her teeth.
Her taste buds sang a hallelujah chorus as the meat juices and the creamy, salty cheese caressed her tongue. A low moan of gratification eased out round the mouthful of burger and his gaze locked on her mouth, the mocking smile gone.
She swallowed quickly and took another massive bite. She could feel the disturbingly intense gaze as she stuffed the rest of burger in—but she didn’t care.
Let him be as appalled as he liked by her terrible table manners. She hadn’t had a decent meal in days. And it hadn’t been her idea to get kidnapped.
Why did that look so damn hot?
Heat shot into Zane’s crotch as the wide full lips shone from the coating of grease.
‘Slow down, you’ll make yourself sick,’ he murmured.
She peered at him, her expression wary as she continued to devour the burger like a ravenous wolf. He shifted in his seat, suppressing the urge to lick off the trickle of juice dribbling down her chin. She swiped the back of her hand across her mouth, wiping off the trickle, but the tug of arousal made it impossible to drag his gaze away.
I must seriously need to get laid.
Had it been six months since he’d had that weekend fling in Sonora with Elena, the public defender? Six months wasn’t that unusual for him—he’d always been choosy about his sexual partners—but this time the abstinence had to be messing with his radar.
The girl was cute, no question. The slanting chocolate eyes, thick red-gold curls, her wide kissable mouth and pale freckled skin made a unique package—but cute was hardly his type. And then there was the biggest turn-off of all. He was involved with her in a professional capacity. She was definitely a witness, possibly even a perp. And he never crossed that line. Ever.
The heat subsided as he watched her gulp down the last of the burger as if her life depended on it. Exactly how old was she? With that petal-soft skin it was hard to tell, but she could be a teenager.
He forced his gaze from her lips as he lifted the bag of fries off the dash, and passed them to her. ‘How long’s it been since you had a decent meal?’
She stiffened. ‘Not long,’ she said grudgingly but took the bag.
Yeah, right.
She popped the fries into her mouth, but continued to watch him, as if she expected him to snatch them back at any moment.
He suppressed the dart of compassion.
Grab a dose of reality, Montoya.
She’s no damsel in distress—she’s a resourceful little operator with her own agenda. Getting a job at Demarest’s motel had been a neat trick. And how the hell had she tracked the guy from Scotland, when they’d had trouble tracking him across California? Until he had the full story of how she fitted into the picture with Demarest, he didn’t plan to trust her an inch.
But that didn’t solve his immediate problem. What to do with her tonight? He hadn’t planned much past getting her away from Demarest’s motel.
He couldn’t take her back to Morro, and booking her into another motel wasn’t an option either, because she’d skip.
Of course he could dump her on the cops. But while handing her over would ‘contain’ the problem, he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it.
‘So how did you find out Demarest had a room at the Morro, Iona?’ he asked, deciding it was about time he started interrogating her properly—and stopped fixating on those damn lips.
She stopped shovelling fries into her mouth.
