to her. Which was partly why he was so hot. He could be anyone she wanted him to be.
Bedroom Eyes was the most important thing to her, right, and he could be a good assistant. She hadn’t counted on photography experience in her employee, but it could only help. Maybe she should give him the job and forget dessert altogether.
She and Rick walked the couple out to Bianca. Joey and Angela strolled arm in arm, looking at each other every few seconds as if they couldn’t believe their luck. Like a bride and groom faltering in the middle of their vows, awed by the power of their symbolic act, appreciating each other anew.
Samantha was so glad she’d given them this reminder of their love. Maybe couple shots were the best of all.
The clients gone, Samantha turned to Rick. “So what do you think?” she asked, knowing his words would tell her what to do.
“I’m impressed. You got those two from divorce court to a Hallmark card in two minutes flat. The digitals were great.”
“The prints will be better. I combine flash with tungsten so the golden highlights are warm, not cloying.”
“It’s more than the lights, Samantha. You have a gift.”
He wasn’t about to let her hide behind her gear. She liked that.
“There’s a lot you can teach me.” He stood a little closer, drawing her out, stretching the tension between them like a fine, tight wire.
There was a lot he could teach her, she’d bet. Naked. “You did a good job of getting Joey to cooperate.”
“Probably would help you to have a man around for that,” he coaxed.
“We did have a nice rhythm going.”
“Yeah. A nice rhythm.” And heat. They had heat going. His irises flickered with gold—candles shining out of all that green moss—telling her he wanted her.
Her knees turned to flan.
“It’s mostly clerical, Rick. Really. You might have to clean out drains and change AC filters for my tenants.”
“I don’t mind. Like I said, anything you—”
“Need. Right. You said that.” She held his gaze, her knees of flan jiggling beneath her.
“And I meant it.”
Did he really? Could he possibly? Could they work together and sleep together? Insane idea or time-saver?
“Okay. We try it for a week,” she said, trying to be firmer than her custard knees. “But if it doesn’t work out—”
“It’ll work out.” His eyes burned through her. He looked dark and dangerous, with stubble just emerging from his firm jaw, and he was so big. He’d have to bend down to kiss her, even if she went on tiptoe, and when he wrapped her in his arms, she’d be overpowered, overwhelmed, swept away.
“How can you be so sure?” she breathed.
“I am. Trust me.”
“We give it a week,” she said firmly, showing him who was boss. But there was a flicker of something in his green eyes that made her think that maybe she wasn’t quite as in charge as she should be.
3
SCORE. HE WAS IN. He had the job.
Of course, he’d practically sworn to be Sawyer’s love slave with the looks and dripping hints he’d delivered. The worst part was that it had come out so easily. Like butter, like cream, like sliding into bed with a hot, hungry woman.
Something about her dug at him—the yes-no vibe she gave off. Flirting, then backing away, as if she’d stepped too far out on a tightrope on a dare.
He wanted to reassure her. Yeah, you’re hot. Yeah, I’d jump you if I could.
He liked her. She had this bizarre business, but she seemed sincere. Forget liking her. He had to keep personal reactions under control. Constant awareness, attention to detail and neutral detachment were the secrets to successful undercover work. The less personal he got, the better.
Except she wouldn’t trust him if he didn’t connect with her, so he had to engage in some repartee. Within reason. Work it for the case. He’d given her mixed messages, too, which wasn’t fair and hadn’t helped.
God he hated being undercover.
It made him feel out of control. He hated checking the rearview, doubling back over every story for consistency and cracks. Hated pretending to be someone he wasn’t, hated living with his lies. For now, he contented himself with his success.
Telling Sawyer he needed a bite, he headed out to his Jeep to phone his partner, grab a burger, then return so she could go over his duties.
He crossed the lot, liking when the mild October breeze kicked up, promising change, just like the case. Adrenaline rushed his pulse and he felt primed for action. Easier to ignore that lust-pumped charge he’d gotten over the fact he’d be hanging around Sawyer for a while.
Lot of good that did him when he had to avoid dessert at all cost.
He climbed into his Jeep and took off for Jade’s, the squad’s favorite bar and grill just down the street.
“Got the job,” he said when Mark picked up his call. “Tell the lieutenant.”
“You lucky dog.”
“What are you talking about, Trudeau? You’d hate this assignment. Gloria’d hassle you about the overtime and you’d miss your kids.”
“But Sawyer’s hot,” Trudeau said.
“So?”
“I’m just saying, if the case calls for you to get sweaty with her…”
“Are you nuts?” The idea sounded so damned good he had to sit down. He could picture those muscular legs wrapped around his ass, that curly hair falling over his face, that snapdragon mouth against his, that pink tongue doing things…
“I’m trying to live through you,” Mark said. “Except you don’t do jack shit worth hearing about, letting alone tracking with binoculars.”
“What are you talking about? You’ve got a great life. And a wife you don’t deserve.” Mark was deeply devoted to Gloria, despite the studly bullshit he trotted out for the squad. No one bought it, but it made Trudeau feel invincible, when, in fact, he could be felled by a mere blink of his wife’s lashes.
“I’m saying, make an effort, West. Quit hanging with us so much. Or at least bring over a woman when you do.”
“I will, don’t worry.” He’d dated two women since he’d decided to look for a wife. Laura, then Theresa. Both nice enough, but the minute he’d dropped them off after a date, he’d felt the relief of a duty done, and they’d slid from his mind like minnows down a creek.
Lately,
