in her eyes reminding him of his past.
Was she still as bright as the sun, drawing people to her like a spotlight? Did her laugh gurgle the way it had when she was younger, deep and husky? And just how would she look in that little blue nightie she kept writing to him about? Or more to the point, how would she look out of it?
Was she still as sexy? Her hair a heavy curtain of long black silk, like in his fantasies? Did she make those same noises when she came? Or was sex just a way to pass time for her now? Like it was for him.
It was her smile that became his focal point as he let all thoughts fall away. He shifted his shoulders, shrugging off everything but the mission.
“It’s time,” Landon said. His words were low and calm. His expression contained. He scanned the team, gave a nod. “Let’s kick ass.”
* * *
GENNA WAS GOING crazy with boredom.
It was like there was a switch in her head that enabled her to get through the same old boring job, blah life, day in-and-day-out monotonous yawn-fest of good behavior. And that switch had flipped off.
She knew she should find a way to flip it back on.
But she didn’t want to.
If she did, she’d have to go back to making other people happy. Which still included Mr. Perfect, the troll collector, and all the pressures to go out with him on a second date.
The guy was boring.
Especially when compared with other people who needed to remain nameless, even in her own mind. People who wrote letters that made her melt before she’d even opened the envelope. People who were out living their lives, making a difference. People who, even though they didn’t even sign their name to their letters, made her want so much.
Wish that things had turned out differently.
Lunchtime chatter faded into a buzz as Genna contemplated what her life might be like if she’d never taken that dare ten years ago. Or better yet, if her father hadn’t ruined the best night of her life. If she’d rebelled instead of trying to soothe her miserable parents, and had done all the things she’d hoped to.
While her friends ordered dessert, she looked around with a sigh. She was like this café. Nice enough, but nothing exciting. Kinda like Millie, the café owner who kept the menu exactly the same month after month, year after year, so as not to upset her regulars by shaking things up.
“So that’s an apple crisp with ice cream and a fruit bowl,” the plump waitress ticked off, pointing her pencil at each woman as she recited their order. When her pencil aimed at Genna, she asked, “How about you? You want the last scoop of crisp? Or maybe some pie?”
With the nearest bakery in the next town, places like Millie’s Café did their own baking. Genna eyed the display case. The toasted, almost-black meringue on the lemon pie was sliding to one side like a drunken mushroom cap.
“I’ll pass.” She softened her refusal with a smile. She’d stop by her house on the way back to the office and grab a couple of the turtle brownies she’d made yesterday instead. Maybe she’d take the rest of the tray back to the mayor’s office. Last time she’d brought in treats for the city council meeting, everyone had raved. As they had when she’d baked for the school fundraiser, and her mom’s ladies’ tea. Sometimes Genna felt as if baking were the only area of her life where she was allowed to be free. Creative. To explore and experiment and indulge.
“Genna!”
“What?” Blinking a couple of times, Genna forced her attention back to her lunch companions. Macy was making notes in her wedding planner, but Dina was glaring.
“You aren’t listening.”
“Of course I am. You were saying you had juicy news.”
“I do. And it’s the juiciest. Better than anything you’ve got.”
Dina figured her job at the hairdresser’s should guarantee her the best gossip access, so it tended to drive her crazy that Genna often got better dirt first.
“Is it the news from this morning?” Genna asked.
“What news?”
“That Maury McCaskle ran the red light on Beeker Street because he was yelling at his wife on the cell phone again?”
“Even bigger.”
“That he was yelling at her because he found out about her affair with the pizza-delivery boy?”
“Bigger than that.”
Genna’s eyes rounded in faux shock. “Bigger? The pizza boy is only sixteen. How can you out-gossip that?”
This was what her life had come to, Genna realized with a morose sigh. Gossiping with her friends over a long lunch was the baddest she got to be. She thought of her little pen-pal project and her sigh turned dreamy. Now that was bad. So, so deliciously bad.
As bad as only a bad boy knew how to be.
Images filled her head, so vivid she swore she could reach out and touch them. Taste them. Feel them.
Thankfully, their waitress chose that moment to return with their order.
Whew, baby, it was much too hot in here for February. Even for sunny Southern California. Genna gratefully gulped down half the iced caffeine.
“This isn’t gossip. It’s more like news. Big, juicy exciting news,” Dina said as she dug into her dessert.
Genna grimaced at the sight of the soft, cream-colored crisp. What’d they done? Scooped the leftover oatmeal from breakfast over canned apple pie filling and popped it in the toaster oven? At least they’d drizzled caramel over the vanilla ice cream.
“You just like to say it’s news because gossip sounds so ugly,” Macy said dismissively.
Easily ignoring them, Genna contemplated the many uses for caramel sauce. She’d offered up the sweet treat as a naughty suggestion in one of her letters to Brody. Especially her homemade caramel. Sticky sweet and buttery rich. She’d warm it up first, then drizzle it over her body and invite Brody to lick it up. She’d even let him choose. He could start at her toes and nibble his way up or start at her shoulders and taste his way down.
“When my information has to do with Brody Lane, I’d say it’s news,” Dina snapped.
Genna gave a start, almost spilling her tea. How had Dina peeked into her mind and pulled Brody’s name out? What else had she seen while she was there?
“Brody?” she breathed. Excitement and fear hit her in equal doses, along with a big wave of lust.
“I was doing Irene Lane’s hair this morning. She’s Brody’s gramma, you know.” Dina waited for them all to nod, as if she’d just revealed some juicy tidbit. Since Genna spent every Saturday afternoon with Irene, she was pretty solid on who the woman was. “Do you remember when he ran away? What was he, thirteen? I heard he lived on the streets in L.A., a part of one of the uglier gangs and getting into all kinds of trouble. Four years he
