First Temptation (6 page)

But not so arrogant that he didn’t recognize when a threat reached beyond his control. And there was something…touching…about how unnerved he’d been over her identity becoming known to Cantos.

Taft met her at the passenger’s door with a tired half grin and a hot glance down her body. She’d dressed more casually today in a gauzy sheer white blouse that hinted at the extra-lacy pushup bra she wore beneath and clung high on her waist. With her low-riding jean capris, a two-inch strip of her belly teased the eye. And because she worked hard on her abs, she added a rhinestone belt, to help gazes drift that direction. Her feet were killing her from wearing heels the night before, so she’d slipped on barely there sandals with rhinestones matching her belt.

But the way Taft looked at her, she could have been wearing nothing.

“Hope you got more sleep than I did,” he said.

“I doubt it.” When his eyes met hers, she smiled and softened her voice to help make this next part go down a little smoother. “I appreciate your concern for my safety. I really do. But, Walker, if you decide to put a unit on my house again, please tell me about it.”

“I was tired. I wasn’t up for another argument. And before you ask, yes, I

would have put one on Rio. And what’s more, Rio wouldn’t have argued.”

“That’s all you had to say. All I want is to be treated the same as you’d treat every other guy you’d work with.”

His gaze searched hers, and she had to fight to keep her eyes from straying to his hair, still wet from the shower, to his jaw, freshly shaven.

“If that were the case,” he said, “we wouldn’t be working together. You’re on this case because you’re
not
a guy, Brooks. You’re on this case because you’re a good cop and you happen to be a freaking hot babe too.”

That made Zoe laugh. The color of his eyes seemed to lighten. The tension in his face eased. He liked making her laugh. And she liked that about him.

He shifted his stance, moving in and leaning close, using the passenger door as support. He smelled shower-fresh and spicy. Zoe thought about sliding her hands over him in a shower. Tasting him under the hot spray. Feeling the cold, hard tile against her back as he filled her.

“What you need to realize,” he said, his voice low and serious, “is that everyone has strengths and weaknesses. Those become powerful forces in undercover work. They become your signature. You become known for what you’re good at, and you leverage those strengths to catch the bad guys.

“You’re obviously known by smugglers as a hard-core bitch, because your tenacity and dedication is crippling Cantos’s business.” He took her jaw gently with his hand and lifted her eyes to his. “But there’s a lot more to you. And you need to use it all—your strength, your smarts, your sexiness, your softness, your sweetness, your independence—it’s all good here. Nothing is a drawback, Zoe.”

Oh.
The way he used her name almost took her legs out from under her. How could she want to lean in to him and kiss him until she couldn’t breathe when she’d only known him twenty-four hours?

His eyes were serious, intent. Rich and glowing in a way that seemed to reach all the way into her heart and squeeze.

“I’m going to treat you like I would any average woman when others are around. But don’t think for one minute I don’t realize just how different you are. Or that I don’t know just how powerful you could be if you let yourself.”

A steel band had tightened around Zoe’s chest. Her lungs ached with every breath. The bridge of her nose tingled with the threat of tears. In one day, he’d seen straight into her soul and pinpointed her deepest identity. An identity she hadn’t even fully embraced yet.

If he only knew how easily he could have her right now… any way he wanted.

He lowered his lips for a chaste, quick kiss and slapped her butt. “Now, get your sweet little ass in the truck. We’re going to be late.”

He turned for the driver’s side. Didn’t help her in. Didn’t wait to close her door. Didn’t turn when he said, “And take your hair down. I like it better down.”

Zoe laughed. The surge of emotion pushed tears closer to the surface, and she blinked fast before they formed in her eyes.

“I might have found the perfect man,” she muttered, sliding into the plush leather captain’s chair. And specifically because he wanted her to take her hair out of the fashionably messy twist, she left it up.

Walker pulled onto the street. “What’s going on in that mind, precious?”

She turned her head toward him, took him in, inch by inch, dark hair, rugged good looks, deep red button-down, blue jeans worn light in all those sexy places. “I’m thinking red is a
really
great color on you.” She refocused out the side window and murmured, “And I’m trying to remember why I don’t do guys I work with.”

Walker made a choking sound before a deep laugh rolled from his chest. “Just hold on to that little rule, sugar. I realized at some point in the dark hours of the morning while I wasn’t sleeping that
you
are at the most dangerous element in this op for me.”

And vice versa.

But Zoe only had to recall a catastrophe named Brent and a clandestine sex tape he’d made of them together and shown around to know why she didn’t do guys she worked with. Almost five years later and she could still remember the fear, the fury, the shame. There were months during which she’d believed her career, her self-esteem—her life—would never recover.

Ironically, hers had; Brent’s hadn’t. He’d been fired. And ostracized. To her surprise, Zoe had retained the majority of her coworkers’ respect and friendships. In a lot of ways, her relationships at work grew closer, as if the men saw her more as a person, less as an enigma.

Trusting men on a deep level, however, was a whole different matter. Sex, she was fine with—as long as it was with someone away from the job. Sex was physical. But she’d trusted Brent, had cared about Brent. His exposure had damaged some fundamental element of trust inside Zoe. Permanently, she’d believed, until last night, when she’d found herself longing to confide in Walker.

And she didn’t need any more complications when it came to Walker or this assignment. Things were suddenly tilting too heavily toward the emotional side for her comfort. Give her a goal, a job, she was on board. Focused. Muddy the waters with emotion, she lost power and direction. Which was probably why she worked so well with men.

“How’d the studying go?” he asked with the slice of a hot grin.

Zoe made a series of faces as her mind catalogued all she’d learned.

He laughed. Zoe smiled. She loved his laugh. More, she loved to make him laugh.

“Some of it was…interesting. Some…downright disgusting. Some…in between.”

“You’ve really never used
any
…?” he asked, sincerely amazed.

“Why is that so shocking?”

He tilted his head and shrugged in a familiar guy gesture that made her miss her team.

“What were the interesting ones?”

“Walker, I know this is news to you, but discussing sex-toy preferences isn’t like discussing breakfast choices.”

“That little vibrator I showed you last night…”

The hot smile he slid her way made her squirm. Zoe clenched her muscles and crossed her legs.

“You’re wet, aren’t you?”

“Oh…my…God.” Here eyes widened. “I can’t believe you said that.”

“What did it? Thinking about the vibrator or me?”

“It’s really hard to get angry with you when you act like this, because you’re just so…”

“Hot?”

“I was thinking more…adorable.”

He made a face, a cross between disappointment and disgust before the expression broke into a grin. “Your hair is adorable.”

Because she wanted to eat him up, she pulled one of the catalogues from the pile and snapped it open. “Since I know how much you love teaching, tell me about this butt-plug thing. This says some of them
vibrate
?” She held up an eight-by-ten glossy of said butt plug. He met it with a where-the-hell-did-that-come-from look. She pointed at his face and nodded. “Exactly. I just don’t get it. At all.”

TAFT’S STOMACH CRAMPED WITH LAUGHTER by the time they reached the café. Brooks was a combination of sarcasm, innocence, and naughty sensuality that floored him. She was refreshing. Fun. And sexy in a blend of such understated and blatant ways, he found himself fascinated.

When he parked, she pointed a warning finger at him. “If you want to eat—”

“I’ll order my own food.”

She grinned. Then her phone rang, and she frowned, reaching for it. When she glanced at the display, her smile returned as she answered, “Hi, Daddy.”

A twist joined the squeeze in Taft’s gut. Outside the truck, he leaned his butt against the grill, crossed his arms, and waited. Normally, he would open and close car doors for women, but Brooks seemed happier when he didn’t. And it annoyed him because it stole one more opportunity for him to be close to her.

“Just working today,” she said as she shut the door. “No, nothing too exciting. Same old thing. Turning illegals around, showing them the way back to their country.”

She paused beside Taft and moved the loose asphalt around the ground with the toe of her sandal, laughing sweetly at something her dad said. Her feet were as small and sexy as the rest of her. Toes painted bright pink. Taft wanted to suck them. He wanted to suck them while he fingered her. He wanted to suck them while he fingered her with that five-fingered vibrator…

He blew out a breath and shifted on his feet, repositioned his ass on the grill. Brooks took it as a sign of impatience and mouthed,
I’m sorry
. She held up her index finger to indicate one minute.

Taft shook his head and looked toward the street. He’d thought way too much last night. Too much about how delectable she’d be to touch and taste and take. Too much about how unforgettable it would feel to be touched and tasted and taken by her.

But he’d also gone over all her actions and reactions. All her comments and non-comments. All there was to like and admire about her.

And her rule was a very good thing. Because he was more than a little afraid she could very well be the one woman who could make him want to do that horrible, unthinkable…girlfriend…thing.

To have her all to himself…whenever he wanted her. To know she was thinking about him…whenever she wanted someone…

“Listen, Daddy,” she said, “I’m going into a meeting. Can I call you after? Yeah. Sure. Kiss Mom for me. I love you. I will. I promise. Bye.”

Taft’s whole body, from his shoulders to his hips, ached. Her voice sounded so young when she talked to her father. So filled with emotion when she said, “I love you.”

He hated that mushy shit.
Hated it.

So why was it making him want to grab her and kiss the hell out of her?

“I’m so sorry,” she said beside him, that same voice carrying over from her conversation with her father. “He gets going and he’s sometimes hard to stop. I haven’t talked to him in a week, so it’s worse.”

Taft couldn’t help but smile. “A daddy’s girl, huh?”

“Hopeless.” Her shoulders relaxed. She smiled, loose, easy. Her eyes filled with affection. And Taft realized then, in that very moment, he was fuckin’ twisted over this girl. “I’m the kid they thought they couldn’t have. He wanted a boy
so
bad. But he got stuck with me. He tried his hardest to turn me into a boy, but every time he turned around, I was still a damn girl.” She shrugged. “It got old sometimes, having the parent you idolize always wishing you were something different, but he’s a great man and I know he loves me with all his heart. Besides, I think the idea of me being a girl is growing on him as he gets older. My mother keeps reminding him about having a daughter to take care of him in his old age, give him grandchildren, stuff like that.”

“A lot about you makes more sense now.” He lifted his hand and ran the backs of his fingers across her cheek. “Shit, Brooks…” he rasped, a rock of fear in his belly. “I fuckin’
like
you.”

That same fear flashed in her eyes, and she curled her fingers around his, pulling his hand from her face. “Good goddamned thing we work together, huh?”

She started toward the café, and Taft watched her hips tip back and forth a few steps before forcing his gaze to the ground and his feet into motion. “Good goddamned thing.”

“Are you close with your parents?” she asked when he caught up.

“My dad left when I was young. My mom…” That was a long story. “She’s never been quite right upstairs.”

Brooks made a sound of compassion and understanding. And left it at that. On the way through the café’s front door, she squeezed his shoulder and slid her hand down his arm. Then went directly to the booth where Rio already sat sipping coffee.

Taft stood a moment, struck by how that small show of sympathy fit him perfectly. And how profoundly it touched him when a million well-meaning questions from previous women had only made him want to bury the problem deeper.

And when he sat next to Brooks in the booth, he realized just how much had changed in one day, which intensified his justification for the panic.

“I’m going to take that as a good sign,” Rio said, his gaze darting between them.