known you to crack a joke.” Her lips puckered. “It appears that you have unplumbed depths, Shane.”
“Likewise, Aberdeen.”
She took another moment to evaluate him. The gradual, sensual lowering of her coppery lashes was only slightly less distracting than the pouty lips. His blood thickened.
“Sooo, Shane, what can I do to get you to give me a peek at a substance-analysis report?”
“Nothing.” He shook his head. Or at least he thought he did. There was very little feeling left in his body outside of the blast furnace that had developed in his groin. For propriety’s sake, he shifted until he’d put the lab bench between them.
“There’s got to be something. Tickets for the Chargers. Uncensored candids of the Ocean Beach women’s volleyball tournament. A backstage pass to Shakira in concert.”
A soft, bubbling groan came from Guillermo’s direction. Although twenty pounds overweight and prone to sloppiness, he was a well-meaning kid who worked a couple of hours several mornings a week, washing beakers, labeling files and losing track of hydrometer jars. He planned to major in chemistry when he went to San Diego State next fall.
Donovan remained stalwart. “I won’t be bribed.”
Zoe glanced at the intern.
“Don’t even think about it, Gil.”
She laughed. “I was only wondering if I could speak to you in, um…” She put her hands flat on the bench top and leaned toward Donovan. A few of the cascading curls fell into her eyes. Her voice lowered. “In private.”
His gaze flicked to the spot where the weight of her sunglasses dragged at the orange tank top. Her freckled cleavage was modest compared to the silicone valleys that populated the city. But powerful nevertheless. “Gil…”
“I’m out of here.”
Donovan had meant to ask the intern to stay, but he let the words die on his tongue.
While Guillermo hastily departed, Zoe leaned farther over the table to push at a file folder with one finger, flicking it open.
Donovan suspected he was supposed to be mesmerized by her feminine wiles, but he wasn’t quite that far a goner. He whisked the stack of files away, then rescued his clipboard, no longer certain that she couldn’t understand the forms it held. That possibility was almost as tantalizing as her cleavage.
She lifted her chin to stare broodingly at him. “Tell me the truth now. Did you send Gil away so we could be alone?”
Surely she was joking. “What?” he said, feeling awkward and shy. High school all over again.
Her smile became mischievous. “You’re cute when you’re worried. I’m only curious about how the lab operates. Do others work here?”
She’d managed to put him off center again. He collected his thoughts. “This is the toxicology lab. Today I was alone except when Gil came by for an hour. I do have a colleague who’s out on maternity leave. And there are plenty of other employees in the building, working in other labs or offices, technicians with different specialties. We share some of the equipment.” He paused. “They can pop in at any time.”
“My goodness. That was a thorough answer. You’d think I was suggesting something naughtier than giving me a peek at an analysis.”
He wouldn’t let himself think about what he wanted a peek at. “I’m not relenting,” he said, “but what’s this about, this result you’re so eager to read?”
She straightened, giving him a provocative look. “It’s about sexual enhancement.” Her voice had taken on the rough velvet of a cat’s purr.
He gaped. “What?”
“I want to know if the lust potion works.” Her brows arched wickedly. “And you are the only man who can help me.”
3
“WHAT’S WRONG, SHANE? Cat got your tongue?”
He continued staring.
Zoe waved a hand in front of his face, feeling fine and sassy. She could wrap Donovan Shane, nerd scientist, around her pinkie with very little effort. Amazing how the adrenaline of female power had cured the lingering effects of her hangover.
He brushed her away. “How do you know about the lust—” Suddenly he had to clear his throat. “How do you know about the alleged lust potion?”
“It’s not a secret. Jag’s been selling it to the tourists for months.”
“Jag?”
“I presume. We don’t know his real name. He runs this seedy little shop in the Gaslamp that sells the lust potion. Along with voodoo dolls, cheap beads, amulets and charms, carved tchotchkes—whatever.” She shrugged. “I’ve been there. I was the one who—”
“Not that.” Shane dismissed her in that autocratic way of his. The man really did make her hackles rise. He was so rigid, even when she’d “discombobulated” him. “I meant how did you know I was testing a lust potion?”
“If you’d let me finish…” She fished out another deliberate smile, remembering that she needed a favor from him no matter how irritating he was. “I was the one who turned the potion over to the police.”
“You?” Shane’s eyes flickered behind his wire-framed glasses. “Then you’ve already tried the potion?”
She’d love to tell him that, yes, the loud activity he’d recently heard coming from her apartment had been the result of headboard-banging hot monkey love and not the installation of a shelf in her closet after an overloaded one had collapsed. But that would be dishonest.
She didn’t have any problem with telling white lies. It was only that she preferred to do so to gain an advantage.
And Shane already believed she was a sex-crazed party girl.
Zoe drew herself up. So what if the assumption wasn’t completely wrong? She’d rather have too much fun than none at all.
She aimed another sultry gaze his way. “If I’d tried it, Shane, I would know if it worked.”
He cranked his head back, as if looking at her required a distance between them. He’d probably slide her under a microscope if he could. “Maybe it worked and you couldn’t tell a difference?”
Was that another joke?
She tossed her curls. “Maybe. I do like to have a good time.”
“You don’t have to tell me. We share a bedroom wall.” Zoe thought he was about to smile, but he shook his head instead, scoffing at her. “Don’t tell me you actually believe in this hokum about a lust potion?”
“I didn’t. Until I heard the stories.”
“Stories? Gossip, I suppose.”
Annoying man.
