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FISH STARED INTO LEXI’S eyes, emerald green whirlpools threatening to suck him in. “You want to work for Blackthorne?”
She sighed and finger-combed her hair away from her face. “I don’t know. I think about how little I’m accomplishing in Burnside, about the likelihood of corruption, and I don’t think I want to be associated with them anymore, no matter how this mess plays out.”
“Why Blackthorne? You could be a cop anywhere in the country.”
“Blackthorne seems so much more ... efficient. Effective. Together. Not the constant battle of report filing, needing approval for every little thing.”
Fish didn’t want to discourage her, not when she was already dejected, but she had no clue what being an operative for Blackthorne entailed. Did she want to be an operative?
“What kind of job are you considering? The public side of Blackthorne has lots of opportunities—” He caught himself before he implied it would be safer, easier. Lexi had never shied from leaping into the middle of anything. The last thing she needed was for him to imply she couldn’t cut it.
“I haven’t thought about it at all. It popped out. Tell me what you did to get your job. Had to be more rigorous than boot camp.”
Was it ever.
He picked up his coffee. Cold. Not enough left to bother reheating. “Let me get a fresh cup first.”
Which would give him time to figure out what to say.
She tagged along, her familiar scent, mixed with the soap provided by Blackthorne, enticing him, tempting him. She wasn’t married anymore.
She was his job.
He dumped his coffee in the sink, popped another pod in the brewer, and pressed the brew button. He opened cabinets hunting for something to snack on. Found some microwave popcorn, which he raised in Lexi’s direction. “For the movie?”
“No, thanks. Are you avoiding my question?” Lexi leaned backward, elbows on the counter. Teasing? Tempting? Because her headlights were on high beam, tenting the fabric of her turtleneck. Or was she working kinks out of her back muscles?
He’d never known Lexi to tease. Or tempt—except that once, and it hadn’t been deliberate. He’d been the tempted one. For God’s sake, she was Lexi. Friend. Partner. Someone he trusted with his back.
Would he trust her with his back, assuming she was serious and passed Blackthorne’s training, if she was a team member?
Didn’t take long to answer. Anyone who passed Blackthorne’s training would have his back.
Would he be able to be objective? When they were partners, they’d been equals. Would he consider her an equal as an operative, or would he be trying to keep an eye out to protect her?
Jumping the gun here, aren’t you?
He put the popcorn away, found an energy bar. “Blackthorne has lots of divisions. Most of them are on the public side. Private investigators, intel support, protective detail. The usual clerical support staff.”
“Desk jockey,” she said. “Sounds like what Brian used to say.”
“I’m trying to figure out what you’re looking for.” He peeled the wrapper off the bar and took a bite. Stalling.
“Which is changing the subject. I asked what you had to do as part of your training.”
The brewer gurgled its last gasp. He tossed the used pod, took a sip of his coffee. Stalling again. “Think about boot camp, special training for Vice and undercover work, with a bunch of SWAT thrown in. Times ten. Lots of simulations. Then there’s Manny, the PT instructor from hell.”
She seemed to consider his words. Her eyes twinkled. “Guess that’s why you’re so buff.”
He didn’t respond.
He washed down the bite of energy bar with another sip of coffee, then set both on the counter. “Do you remember the Pineda case?”
Her eyes went from twinkling to steamy. She nodded. “Often.”
He stepped closer, pushed a strand of hair away from her face.
She lifted her chin. Her tongue roamed her lips. Her fingers walked along his chest, tracing his abs.
Damnation.
***
THE PINEDA CASE. TWO tweakers, both scrawny, looking barely capable of lifting the weight of their next fix, but so hopped up on meth it had been like trying to wrestle a couple of gorillas. Her gut still roiled as the memories poured over her. The panicked look on the face of the daughter as she implored her mother to get the man away from her. The mother, telling her own kid everything would be fine, to go with the nice man and do what he said.
Then Marv, managing to subdue the man, but not after sustaining a couple of rib-cracking blows. Lexi rubbed her arm, as if the scratches and bites she’d endured while trying to get the woman under control and cuffed were still fresh. The sobs of the daughter, the kid kicking and screaming not to hurt her mother.
The adrenaline surged through her system like a supercharged electrical current. She’d almost kissed Marv when everything was over. Almost stepped beyond the boundaries of being partners. Of being friends. She’d never been unfaithful to Brian, but that night she had been close.
What about now? She’d been turned on earlier—thinking of Marv’s bare feet, no less—but the memories of that case threatened to destroy her self control, her ability to reason.
She had a job to do. He had a job to do. So why was she standing here, inviting the kiss that hadn’t happened three years ago? One that still shouldn’t happen.
She dropped her hands, wriggled away from Marv. Eyes downcast, she rushed to the living room, grabbed a random book from the array on the shelves, and fled to her bedroom.
Once there, she glared at the squawk box on the nightstand, willing it to burst forth with news. Then stared at her cell phone, willing it to ring with an update from Dalton. Good news, bad news, it didn’t matter. Anything to get back on task and away from dealing with her feelings for Marv.
She paced. Flipped on the television set. Thumbed the remote through the offerings, wishing she’d run across a newscast showing John Gunther revealed as the Falcon, and in custody.
Too soon. Even Blackthorne wasn’t that good.
The knock on the bedroom door had to be Marv. Tempted to ignore it, she sighed. Might as well get everything on the table. They couldn’t be bogged down in emotional baggage if it would interfere with his job. Her life might be on the line.
“It’s open,” she said.
Marv stood there, his coffee mug in one hand, hers—steaming with a fresh cup—in the other. He looked...scared. “We should talk.”
She almost laughed. “Isn’t it the woman who says that, and then the man runs for the hills?”
“We were always partners. Man and woman never played into it. Except that once.”
He was right. “Come in,” she said.
Marv crossed to the nightstand, set both mugs down, and turned off the television. “But first, there’s something we have to put behind us. Because I am a man and you are a woman.”
Her heart pounded. His finger caressed her cheek. Chills slithered along her spine. She parted her lips, letting him know she agreed.
He pressed his lips to hers. Nothing tentative, nothing gentle. The kiss that had hovered in the deep, dark places neither of them wanted to admit existed.
She opened her mouth, accepting what he offered. Offered more of her own in return. His tongue explored. Hers danced. He tasted like coffee, like what she’d imagined he’d taste like. The years of being partners, the stakeouts, the collars, the court appearances, the highs, the lows, compressed into a single kiss.
Gasping, she broke it off. She clasped his hands. Stared into his eyes. She’d always thought of them as plain brown, but now she’d call them the color of a rich espresso.
“Well, I’m glad that’s behind us,” she said, trying to keep things light. Casual. As if casual was possible after a kiss like that.
“Right,” Marv said, his voice husky.
Lexi pushed her hair away from her face, let the tip of her tongue wander her lips, where Marv’s mouth had performed magic. She moved toward her coffee. She raised the mug, inhaled the aroma, but didn’t want anything to interfere with the way her mouth felt. Didn’t want to erase the taste of Marv.
Why had she allowed him to kiss her?
Allowed him? She’d been begging for it. There was no call to blame Marv. She sat on the edge of the bed. “We shouldn’t have done that.”
“Yes, we should have.” He sat on the other bed, hands lowered between his knees, staring at the floor. “One kiss. Two consenting adults.”
She tilted her head. “Then why do you look so guilty?”
“It wasn’t the what. It was the when. Blackthorne has rules, and at the top of the list for any kind of security detail is Don’t get involved with the principal.”
“What if I’m not the principal? I’m a part of this investigation, remember.”
He huffed a breath. “You’re not part of this operation. You provided the information and turned everything over to Blackthorne.”
“I’m benched, in other words. Restricted to watching from the sidelines.”
“Pretty much.” He raised his gaze, his lips curved into the semblance of a smile. “Want to go watch Bruce Willis save the world? I’ll join you on the bench.”
With a glare at her phone and another at the squawk box, Lexi shuffled to the living room, wondering what would happen after this investigation was over when she no longer had any connection to Blackthorne.
Might she apply for a job? Did they have a non-fraternization policy? Which reminded her. Marv was still dodging her questions.