Calm down. Use your words. She slammed her car door as Eliam buckled himself into the passenger seat—like now he was all concerned for his safety.
“Russians? Do you know how stupid that was?” Okay, so maybe she should encourage herself to use more productive words.
“It was a business meeting.” He rested his hands on his thighs, and she resisted the urge to look.
“I can’t believe I actually let you go in there. Stupid. Stupid.” She started the Durango and got them the hell out of there before they could be followed or shot at again. “No wonder there’s a second hit out on you. It’s obviously them.” Fury raged from her hands to the top of her head; she felt like she was boiling over. Only the target of her madness wasn’t necessarily Eliam, it was herself. She knew better than to let him walk away without her and go into a place she hadn’t cleared. She’d learned better in worse situations. She wouldn’t make this type of silly mistake again, because she wasn’t going to let him out of her sight.
“Second hit?”
“You aren’t going anywhere without me anymore. I’m going to be right there when you open the refrigerator to get a bottle of water. I’m going to be at your elbow when you throw a load of laundry in the dryer, assuming you do your own laundry. No more surprises or secrecy. Period.” If she could tie him to her, she would. Better yet, she could lock him up until she figured out how to nail Franklin. And apparently deal with the Russians. And then Holland. Shit. The list was growing.
“Wait. Back up.” Eliam shifted in his seat, and she could feel his stare burning into her skin even though she refused to look at him.
“I mean, they could’ve just killed you right there. If their sniper hadn’t sucked, your cousin would be at the mortuary right now discussing a gold casket or black lacquer and whether or not to have a calling or just a short prayer service at the cemetery.” Her voice rose and she tried to keep her hands on the steering wheel, but instead she waved them around like she was deranged. He’d made her a crazy person. He could be dead right now, three times over. Just like Brenn, Malcolm, and Wes. No way would she ever relive that day. She’d rather die herself.
“Winter.” His voice boomed in her SUV. “What second hit?”
She blew out a long puff of air and gripped the steering wheel at ten and two. Do I tell him? Maybe then he wouldn’t be so careless. On the other hand, he’d probably fire her. No, now was not the time to tell him she held the first contract out on his life.
“As I said last night, there’s more than one group after you. Matvey all but just admitted to the car incident. The issue is, who else do you conduct shady business with or have made angry?” She was proud of how calmly she was able to ask him the last sentence.
“Wow, how very PC of you to word my impending death that way.” He shook his head and looked out his side window. “Matvey is a complication, but in all reality, he needs me alive.”
“Doesn’t seem like he’s trying very hard to keep you breathing.” Dumbass was going to get himself killed without even trying, and she was going to have to try even harder now not to let that happen.
He swiveled to sit forward in his seat and started mumbling in a Middle Eastern language.
“What?” she asked, annoyed she couldn’t understand what he was saying. She knew bits and pieces of many languages but didn’t speak any fluently. “What language is that?”
“I’m still in Franklin’s deal. A deal that is a jail sentence for sure.” He pushed the button on the car door and the window slid halfway down. “Hebrew. I am fluent in Hebrew, courtesy of my parents.”
It was intoxicating. If she’d met him in another setting, she’d be putty in his hands and on his sexy, foreign-language lips.
“The Russians are not a great group to mess with, especially the Primack family.” For fuck’s sake, what was she babbling about? She didn’t know any bad guys who were great to mess with. “They are merciless.”
“I didn’t. It was Franklin.”
More Hebrew. There was more to this story. Eliam knew Matvey; they hadn’t been strangers in there.
“But now that Franklin got the ball rolling . . . ” she thought out loud.
“They aren’t too keen on people backing out of done deals.” He finished her thought.
Eliam rubbed the back of his neck.
She squelched her smile at Eliam’s unhappiness about the illegal dealings. Eliam wasn’t a bad guy.
Who do I know at Interpol?
She pulled into her garage and closed the door before they got out. Once inside her entryway, she kicked off her boots. “You should’ve told me who we were meeting and why.”
“I was going to take care of it today.” He hung his suit jacket on the coatrack—if only he’d shrug out of this fantasy that he could go all badass on international mobsters just as easily.
“What do they want?”
“I am going to handle it.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” She turned to face him. With her boots off, their height difference was striking. If she were closer to him, she’d have to tip her head back just to look into his eyes.
Exacerbation flitted across his face.
“We’re in this together now. Keeping crucial information from me, or anything actually, will not help this problem get solved and will put you in more danger.” She rubbed the heel of her palm between her eyes. Her client was exhausting. She’d been right—he had been, in fact, hiding something. Now the question was whether the Russian deal was the only secret he owned.
She moved into the kitchen, not caring if he followed or stayed there to sulk. She’d unloaded the groceries earlier, marinated the chicken, and cleaned the asparagus while Felix and Eddie had both been on guard at Eliam’s office.
Eliam rolled up his sleeves to the middle of his forearm, unbuttoned the top two buttons of his dress shirt, and sat at the bar while she organized the chicken on a baking sheet. It would need to bake for a while before she started steaming the asparagus and cooking the rice.
“Why didn’t you tell them you were my bodyguard?”
“So if something bad goes down, they won’t see me coming.”
His hearty chuckle made her glance up from the silverware drawer. His eyes were closed and the edges of his face seemed softer.
“This humors you?” she asked. Leaping across the counter and sucker-punching him held high appeal. Then maybe planting her lips on his. Her thoughts were confusing. The one thing she knew was that kissing his neck had been exhilarating and really hard to stop.
“Absolutely. On many levels. You did a great job, taking that shot in the sexy way you did. It was terrific.”
Sexy? Had he really said that? She loosened her grip on the plates. She’d been ready for a fight of sorts, not a compliment—or his using the word sexy.
She opened her fridge so she didn’t have to look at him in case he could read her mind. “What would you like to drink?"
“Water, please.”
She grabbed two bottles of water, the only actual thing she had to drink in her fridge besides alcohol. “I take it you have to see them again.”
“In three days they’ll be delivering what needs to ship.”
Great, so I’m keeping you alive only to get thrown in jail later. “And that would be?” She put the plates, drinks, and silverware on the bar and joined him on the second bar stool.
“Didn’t ask.” He shook his head one too many times. “Don’t want to know.”
“Reasonable.” Reasonable doubt and deniability. “What are you going to do?” She drank from her water bottle.
“I don’t know.”
The change was subtle in his demeanor—his jaw was a little tighter and his movements stilted. Eliam was in one hell of a bad situation with the Primack family and he knew it. She felt a little bad for him.
“Can you turn them in without getting in trouble?” Long shot, but what the hell. She had no idea what his options really were, didn’t know how the shipping world worked as far as transport deals went. She did know they were regulated and there was a chance of him being caught. And she had an idea in her world of what could be done to get him Russian-free. After their more pressing issue was resolved, she’d make a couple of calls.
“Not likely.”
Yeah, that path was hard to come back from after a paperwork trail told the bad guys who was responsible for their legal entanglement. And it usually involved a short lifespan or blood on innocent hands. But why did she care? It’s not like she really gave a rat’s ass if he died young or old, as long as it wasn’t on her watch. Don’t fall for clients. It’s the number-one rule. After this assignment she needed a vacation. Somewhere tropical and warm and non-violent.
So, asking more questions about his company was out, as she really didn’t want to know anything that didn’t pertain to his life being in danger. Grr. She wasn’t feeling very chatty toward a man who was supposed to be open with her yet was actively keeping her out of the loop.
“So, Hebrew, huh?”
“My parents preferred to speak in their native tongue. It comes in handy more than you’d think. I can pick up other languages fairly easily. You speak Russian?”
“Not really. I can get by on a handful of languages, but I’m not fluent in any.”
“How does that happen?”
“Military. Spent lots of time overseas and picked up stuff from fellow soldiers.” She went back into the kitchen to start the rest of dinner. She was hungry and possibly slightly buzzed from the two shots of vodka.
“How long were you in again?” he asked.
Maybe if she talked about herself, then he’d open up, too. Earlier she’d thought his dealings with the Russians was the secret, but now she got the feeling maybe there were layers to Eliam she was going to have to peel back. She definitely had a challenge in front of her—subtlety had never been her strong suit.
• • •
“I was in for ten years.”
Winter was acting a little off. She’d been on edge ever since the incident at the warehouse—her eyes weren’t as happy as they usually were. She tried to come off as tough, and she was—as he’d witnessed steadily in the past twenty hours—but she was also tender. She felt things deeply, and that wasn’t such a bad trait.
“Did you enlist straight out of high school?”
“Yep. It was the right road for me.”
“Hard teenage years?”
“Yeah, I don’t want to get into that.” She added rice to the pot of boiling water on the stove.
He could relate. His teenage years had not been the best with his dad suddenly gone and his mom always at the office. The formative years could definitely leave a mark.
“Ha.” He laughed at the irony.
Her brows knitted together. “What?”
“We both have touchy subjects.”
She took a bowl of asparagus out of the fridge and added it into the steamer on the other burner. “My secrets won’t get me killed.”
“We have a funny lady on our hands.”
She braced herself on the counter with two hands and hung her head. The back of her neck was exposed and looked creamy to the touch. “I want to hear it all.”
“What?”
She grabbed a bottle of wine out of the fridge, two glasses from the cupboard, and set them on the counter in front of him.
“Your story. Let’s hear it.” She poured two glasses and gave one to him.
“Yours first.”
Her eyes bore into him, but he wasn’t about to give in and speak first. With Winter he had to stand his ground or he’d lose all of it.
“My teenage years were rough. Mom was not in the picture and Dad was doing what he could to survive. My story is not unique; we’ve all heard it a bunch of times. So, when I graduated high school I enlisted and never looked back. I was in for ten years. Spent the last five under Louis’s command.”
This was definitely the first time he’d ever seen her unsure. He felt bad for bringing up a past she clearly wanted to forget.
“I got out. Moved back here and tried to find a job.” She sipped from her glass.
“What line of work?” He couldn’t picture her doing any other type of work.
“I didn’t really care. I’ve only ever known the army as a career and I don’t have a college degree.”
One minute she was engaged in their conversation and the next it was as if she’d gone to sleep with her eyes open because she was no longer seeing him.
“I had coffee with Louis one day and I was having a really hard time adjusting. He suggested I wrangle some of the guys and put together a business. I guess they were having a hard time, too. I started Wyn Security and here we are.”
“They didn’t want to start it with you. They work for you?”
“You’ve met Felix and Eddie. Amelia Roe and Mieko Noor were in different units we met along the way. We all got together and they volunteered me for all of the paperwork and non-bodyguard duties like collecting the money, so I volunteered myself to be boss. It works. We all think pretty much the same anyway, so there isn’t a lot of arguing. We all have our strengths.”
She clearly had rejoined the present.
“Yours is?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m the diplomat.”
“You’re the most diplomatic?”
“I am.” She chuckled, and the apples of her cheeks were more prominent, drawing him into her smile.
“Guess I’m glad I didn’t have to deal much with the others then because your people skills aren’t terrific.”
“And neither are yours apparently.”
He raised his brows.
“No one is trying to kill me. And why is this something I have to keep reminding you about?”
“Trust me. I know.” He took a drink of the Moscato she’d poured them. It was a little too sweet for his liking, but he could get through a glass.
“I told you my story. Now tell me yours.”
He paused, not really wanting to rehash his past tonight. She was so easy to talk to that he might end up telling her things he didn’t want to—sharing too much information led to people knowing your weaknesses and true feelings. Two things that could be used against him. She watched him intently, but there was no expectation in her eyes—he could tell her as much or as little as he deemed appropriate.
“By the time I’d graduated college Franklin had taken over. I was young, pissed, and didn’t really understand at the time everything my mom had gone through. Not really. So I opted for our overseas office and took care of that side of the business far away from the port. It was hard watching someone who wasn’t family take charge.” He smiled tightly. The resentment and loss he’d felt since his dad’s death had never gone away; it only seemed to compound. “When she got sick two years ago, I came back. Seeing her health deteriorate and how the medicine made her suffer more, it . . .it was hard.”
He watched the iridescent wine in his glass slosh on the sides as he moved it back and forth. “I had to stand by as Franklin drove the company my parents worked so hard to build into the dirt and my mom lost her battle with cancer all at the same time.”
The familiar stinging in the back of his throat returned. The truth was, as much as he wanted to be the president, he’d give it all up to see his parents again. Life was full of two things: the meaningless and the meaningful. Jobs and possessions were among the meaningless. Family and people you cared for in life—they were irreplaceable. Right now he was low on both of those.
He cleared his throat. “I finally could have him ousted after Mom died, so I did and here we are. Franklin wants me dead and the Russians want me to follow through with a promise someone else made.”
Man, every time he summed up his life, it really sounded pathetic, like he hadn’t done anything with it. Not really. He wasn’t involved much in charity besides what his company wrote checks for. He lived for his job and couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken up a hobby or had a vacation. Well, he hadn’t taken a vacation because he’d wanted to be with his mom and had been too worried about Franklin doing something stupid while he was away. Which in hindsight was dumb because he didn’t really know what the man had promised the Russians until today—safe travels with one container on a Prince Industries’ ship that left the P-K port. One freaking container. Had Franklin seen how short his time was and promised the Primack family something impossible to screw Eliam over? What a sneaky bastard.
“How are we going to get Franklin for this hit anyway?” he asked. Sharing time was over.
“Alex is watching him, but honestly it might be pretty difficult. He went through a third party to hire out the hit. The chances of catching anyone but the contractor are slim.”
“What kind of people do you know?”
“Not all good ones.” The sides of her mouth tipped up. “And some pretty great ones.”
If she could focus on Franklin, then he would focus on the Russians. There might be a way to trip them up without him being directly involved, but he was going to have to call in all of the favors he’d racked up overseas and then some. If the double cross could be connected to him, then nothing Winter could do would stop them.
“So where does that leave us?” he asked.
“Where does Franklin live?” She took the chicken out of the oven and plated it along with the rice and asparagus. His stomach rumbled; he hadn’t eaten much today.
“Mercer Island.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Big house they moved into about eight years ago.” He eyed her. “Why? Are you going to go knock on his door?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Are you going to break his arm and threaten his life if he doesn’t call it off?”
She side-eyed him with a smile. “Who do you think I am?”
Someone who could do damage at will. “I don’t know. What kind of questions could you possibly have for the man? We already know it’s him. He damn well told me.”
“When did you speak with him?” She put her oven mitts into a drawer and shut it with a bang.
Whoops. “Today.”
“Did he call you?”
“No.”
“And what did you hope to accomplish with your call?” The same look she’d had when she was pissed at him after their run-in with Matvey returned. Anger simmered just below her surface, and if her hot exterior was only for show, he wouldn’t feel intimidated. But it wasn’t. The woman could certainly follow up with any threat she made.
“I needed to know.”
“And do you?”
“Well, he didn’t come right out and say it. He mentioned the Russians, though.”
She set the plates down in front of them and took the seat next to him.
Maybe Franklin hadn’t put a hit out on him. Maybe all of it was the Russians. This was so stupid. It’s not like he had nuclear bombs or anything—he was just a simple guy trying to live his life.
• • •
Alex’s number flashed on her cell phone. She waved it in the air. “It’s Detective Dreyer,” she announced for Eliam’s benefit. After all, they were having a serious conversation and it would be totally rude for her to answer a call if it weren’t important.
“This is Winter.” She answered professionally even though being near Eliam made her feel softer than a bodyguard should. Maybe a little of the fuzz was from the alcohol. She pushed her half-empty glass away and cursed her light-weightiness.
“Hey, Wyn.”
“Is our boy talking?”
“Did you really expect him to?”
She glanced at Eliam to find him watching her. She shook her head and he turned away, looking back into the kitchen and taking a sip of wine. “No. Not really. But a girl can hope, can’t she?”
“We got a name. One Mr. Anton Glazov. Sound familiar?”
“Sounds Russian.” She met Eliam’s eyes and put her phone on speaker.
“We did find out some interesting facts through background checks. This guy does not run with a savory crowd. Did he say anything to you?”
“We didn’t exactly talk. Who are his cohorts? Any Russians?”
Eliam refilled both of their wineglasses.
“You name a scuzzy group in town, he’s associated. You have new information you’d like to share with me?”
Eliam covered her wrist with his palm and shook his head.
“No. Just some hunches.”
“About Russians.” Alex was smart. He knew she was lying.
“Maybe.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. Every time she found out a piece of the puzzle, it didn’t seem to exactly hit. Primack ’fessed up to the driver thing but not the guy in the house. Why? Because he’d been caught? Possibly. So he sent someone to scare Eliam into the deal? Maybe rough him up a little? That was certainly a plausible explanation.
“He wasn’t forthcoming with names,” Alex continued, “but the last time we had any intel on this guy, he was working with many of the foreign groups in town, which may be of interest considering you’ve attached yourself to a shipping mogul.”
Was that concern in Alex’s voice? How sweet. She didn’t look at Eliam. Instead she took a bite of asparagus. Paper flipped on Alex’s side of the phone—he was still at the precinct. She glanced at the clock on her kitchen wall. He was putting in the late hours.
“Yeah. Years ago he was busted with some Russians for gunrunning.”
“Alright. Keep me posted. Thank you.” She disconnected. They seemed to know all the players, but what was the motivation? “Why do these people want you dead?”
“I thought it was fairly obvious.” Eliam had finished his chicken, rice, and was working on the asparagus. “Franklin so he can take back the company and the Russians just want me to go through with Franklin’s deal. They don’t want me dead. And I doubt they’ll try again after our meeting tonight. They know I’m screwed.”
She poked around at her own chicken and cut up some pieces. “But would Franklin really get the company back if you died?”
“Well, no.” Eliam sat back and set down his utensils on his plate.
“Then why try to kill you?”
She hadn’t heard back from Felix or Eddie yet—that was neither good nor bad news, but some news would be nice.
Eliam brought his plate into the kitchen, rinsed it, then put it in the dishwasher. “Plain hatred?”
“Okay, but from what I understand he’s paying a lot for an emotion if he stands to gain nothing. Who would get control of Prince Industries? How would that work?”
“I haven’t changed my will yet to specify where my shares would go. The board of directors would be involved in the position decision, as well.”
“Do you have siblings?”
“No. I have a cousin on my mom’s side. You met him. Bram. He’s kind of my only family member left.” The start of a frown turned his mouth down slightly before he rubbed his temple with his left hand and then rubbed his palm over his hair, fluffing it a little.
She finished her food and joined him in the kitchen. Standing next to him in her bare feet was odd—she was tiny compared to his broad, muscled build. “Is that who you’d leave the company to?” Her belly fluttered when her arm brushed his forearm. She flashed back to the kiss she’d placed on his neck not too long ago.
He’s a client.
“I don’t know that he is equipped to run the company, but he’d benefit from its monetary worth. I hadn’t really thought about it. I mean, I didn’t expect to die for a long time.”
His brown eyes found hers and instead of seeing some type of fear, as she expected, there was fight. Eliam was not going down easily. It made the man standing beside her so damn hot, it was hard to look him in the eye. Most men she guarded looked at her like she was a pretty little girl who was only for show and Felix and Eddie were the actual bodyguards.
“And you won’t if I have anything to say about it.”
A low chuckle eased her mood. The man was handsome, but holy shit, when he smiled, he was beyond gorgeous. It was really a shame they’d met this way, protector-protectee, because if they hadn’t, there’d be no talking going on right now.
Her phone chirped—Felix was calling this time. “I need to take this.” She didn’t want Eliam listening in on this conversation until she knew what it was about. The clock Holland had given her was running out—if her team didn’t find him tonight, a shitstorm was headed their way bright and early.
“I’m going to grab a shower.”
Great, the image of Eliam naked in a shower with steamy water pouring over every inch of his olive skin was going to stay with her—she’d be seeing his smoldering body on her phone screen, eye cream bottle, and probably when she closed her eyes.
• • •
Eliam dressed in jeans, black shirt, and a gray hoodie after his shower. He thought about putting his sweatpants on, but he felt more in control in jeans, and around Winter he needed every edge he could get. Each time he closed his eyes he heard the zing of bullets whizzing uncomfortably close to his body and Winter yelling for him to get down.
He grabbed a beer out of her fridge, poured her a new glass of wine, set them down on the coffee table, and sat to check his email on his phone. His mind wanted to be on work, but his body wanted to think about Winter and her lips on his neck. Damn, she’d caught him by surprise when she’d bent down and nuzzled him.
Winter came out into the living room in those black yoga pants that showed off her ass in spectacular fashion, and a green short-sleeved shirt. She opened the sliding-glass door to let in the fresh, crisp air before sitting in the same spot she had the previous night and pulling her knees up to her chest.
“Here.” He handed over her wineglass. She balanced it on the couch cushion by the glass stem. She wasn’t drinking anymore.
She watched Eliam intently, not trying to hide it.
“Thank you.”
“For?” Her eyebrow arched.
“Saving my life on several occasions now.”
“You’re welcome. It’s no big deal.”
“Maybe to you. But I’m pretty happy to be breathing right now.” And wasn’t that the truth. His ego liked to think he could take care of himself, but in reality he wasn’t so sure he would’ve done it as efficiently and well as Winter. Okay, so maybe the guy in his house would’ve totally had the drop on him, and the sniper today would’ve had extra time to get the shot just right if she hadn’t been there. Damn, he was glad Louis had given him her card. For more than one reason.
“If you weren’t hiding out, what would you normally be doing on a calm September’s night?”
“Thursdays I usually meet some friends for a late-night dinner and drink.” He’d texted to tell them he wouldn’t be there tonight.
“Where?”
“It’s a little out-of-the-way place in Capitol Hill.” He pocketed his phone and grabbed his beer. “Nothing fancy. One of my buddy’s parents own it.”
“Sounds like a nice tradition.”
“We’ve been friends since school. It’s an easy way to keep in touch. What about you? Do your weeknights usually entail guarding a client?”
“Sometimes. Although never in my home. This is a first.”
“Really?” Isn’t that interesting news? He hadn’t exactly assumed she regularly brought clients to her home, but finding out he was the first made his chest feel lighter.
Flashes of her closeness in the warehouse deepened his breath. She’d not kissed him because she’d wanted to, she’d done it to sell a lie. However, the way in which she’d chosen to kiss him had been hot. Red hot. Winter could’ve just touched her lips to his cheek or forehead, but no, she’d gone for his ear and neck.
He wanted to lean in and kiss her on the lips.
“Eliam?” She chuckled. “Didn’t you hear me?”
“Sorry.” He wasn’t a person who normally blushed, and he hoped that stayed true tonight. But, seriously, her lips on his, his arms around her slim waist, and their bodies colliding was not a bad daydream.
“I asked what your buddies do for a living.”
“They work in different fields. Pete is a pilot; he misses a lot of Thursdays. Mack and Sally have their own tech business, and Duncan is a Realtor.”
Was it possible his fantasy could become reality? She traced the top of her wineglass with her index finger—he focused on the movement, wondering what her touch would feel like on him.
“Not in the mood for wine?”
“I’ve had enough alcohol today I think. I did take two shots of Russia’s best vodka earlier, remember?”
“And that’s your limit?”
“I’m a lightweight.” She sat forward, setting her glass on the coffee table. “I’m also on duty.”
“Ouch.” He covered his heart. “And here I thought we were starting to become friends.”
“We could be friends.” She rested her elbow on the back of her couch.
“And, yes, I do remember you taking two shots with Matvey. I think I’ll be hard pressed to ever forget that meeting.”
“Hate the Russians that much, huh?”
“No.” He laughed. “There were much more memorable things happening besides my conversation with the head of the Primack family.”
“The gunshots.” She nodded. “That was crazy.”
He grinned. He was in a damn cat-and-mouse game. She had to know he was referring to her kisses and the way she’d bent over to retrieve her vodka shot. Didn’t she? Or was she that oblivious to how sexy she was?
“What?” she asked. “Did I miss something?”
Maybe. Or perhaps you’re always just this coy. “No.” He shook his head and picked up her wineglass and his beer as he stood. “I should get to bed.” He wasn’t very tired, he just didn’t know what to do with Winter. If he stayed out there talking to her any longer while envisioning how he could make her moan, she’d probably having him confessing he had unpaid parking tickets.
When he walked out of the kitchen, he nearly bumped into her. He’d expected her to still be on the couch.
“Whoa.” She grabbed his arms. “Sorry. I was just making sure the front door was locked.” Her fingertips slipped off of his skin and only tingles were left.
They were nearly toe to toe and he couldn’t help himself.
“I was referring to the way you kissed me,” he spoke quietly, as if saying it any louder would be more vulnerable. “Why I would remember that meeting? Because of you.”
“You mean when I kissed your ear or your neck?” Her sultry eyes and lips beckoned him to take her bait.
Oh hell, yes, she had known exactly what she was doing. He’d been the mouse earlier. He stifled a chuckle. Winter was a firecracker and he couldn’t get enough.
“Is there an all-of-the-above option?” He moved closer.
She placed her palms on his torso and slowly slid them up to his shoulders. Was she going to kiss him or was this just the cat toying with the mouse again? She stood on her tiptoes and then her full lips were over his and nothing else mattered. The shock of her initiating their lip lock morphed quickly into pleasure. His fingers curled around her waist and he brought her into him. Maybe being the target of a hit man wasn’t such a bad thing if it meant he’d get to spend the evening under Winter’s spell.