line on anything.”
Caitlin’s hands shot up in protest. “Excuse me. You got screwed out of one last-minute date. Don’t blame the rest of the gender because your timing’s lousy.”
“She’s really not here?” Sean crumpled the note in his fist and began to stalk through the apartment, searching rooms, checking to see if this was all a lie and Cassie was hiding from him.
“Hey!”
Wasn’t that just like a woman? Leaving when you needed her most. This assignment was all about this weekend. She could have dumped him Monday, no problem. But tonight?
The roomie with the dynamite legs hurried after him, trying unsuccessfully to stop him from looking into the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, matching him stride for stride. “Could I have that key back? I don’t think you’ll be needing it anymore.”
She tried to block his path into one pigsty of a bedroom, but he pushed past her. Empty. He crossed the hall and entered a bedroom whose soft blues and tans and wrinkle-free perfection could have come from the pages of a magazine.
He felt her hand at his elbow then. “This is my bedroom. Get out.”
He whirled around, easily pulling free of her tugging grasp. “I had plans.”
Somehow he’d cornered the woman in the doorway. She’d have to brush against him to move past. But Sean rudely held his ground, letting the soft heat of her body seep into him across the breath of space between them. The faint tang of household cleaner blended with the salt-tinged ocean scent of the woman herself. She’d been out on the water recently. He breathed the observation, in and out, her fresh scent filling his head and calming his burst of anger.
She was tall, just a few inches shorter than him—and he was six-two. Her honey-gold hair feathered across her cheeks and forehead in something like a pageboy cut. Only curlier. Sexier. Her gray eyes had darkened to the color of a battleship. And there was definitely a battle waging there. Fire. Fear, maybe. Questions, certainly. But definitely fire.
Plan B took shape in his mind.
He skimmed his gaze down the front of her gray-heather T-shirt. Her breasts were small, barely noticeable beneath the oversize cotton garment. But her hips flared nicely. And those legs… Sean swallowed hard and leaned back to scan every smooth, shapely inch. An image of those legs wrapped around his hips, binding them together in the most elemental of ways, sprang into his mind, consuming his body in a flush of instant heat. Now his imagination decided to kick in!
Sean squeezed his eyes shut and focused on controlling the involuntary response. It had been too long since he’d had sex. That was all. Not once during the Marquez case. Nor the case before that.
He wasn’t a celibate man by nature, but he worked long, difficult hours. He kept company with equally busy fellow agents and criminal lowlifes. When he did run across a woman who charged his engines, he’d make a play for her. A few were okay with his Job Comes First motto. Elise had been. At first.
Then the hassle started. She just couldn’t let him be who he needed to be. She’d bought him ties and dressed him up for dinner. At first he’d used the demands of his job as an excuse to keep things light and fun between them. But somewhere along the line, an emotional bond had formed. And suddenly he’d been rearranging appointments to catch an afternoon quickie with Elise. He’d worn her damn ties.
He’d even swallowed his fears and ventured into a jewelry store. Just to look. There were a number of rings well within his budget that looked nice. That spoke commitment.
He’d walked out with something called a tennis bracelet instead. The next day he’d gone to surprise Elise at lunch. That was when she’d kissed that old friend. In front of him and God and the entire restaurant.
The bracelet was probably still wrapped up in the back of his closet somewhere.
Now Sean understood that his job was the only thing that had never let him down. So that’s where his loyalties lay. Women were for fun and nothing more—if they were agreeable. The Bureau was his full-time commitment. That way nobody got hurt.
But his lonesome body sure seemed to be paying the price for that self-imposed ideal.
He slowly opened his eyes, thinking his bitter memories had helped him conquer his body’s desire. But with his head angled as it was he was staring right at this woman’s breasts. Small, yes, but amazingly responsive. They rose and fell with each quick, deep breath she drew. His own chest expanded in a rhythmic response. Almost…nearly…not quite touching hers.
“What are you staring at?” The woman’s croaky whisper caressed his ears, but his focus had shifted to the subtle seep of color that washed up the swanlike arc of her neck and stained her cheeks.
Despite her boyish attire and eccentric housekeeping skills, she was a long, tall drink of purely female body. South of his belt buckle, he stirred in response again.
A sexy woman was the answer his body wanted to give. But his rational mind still had control. Barely. “How tall are you?”
The question came out of nowhere, from the uncontrolled depths of his subconscious mind.
Her gaze dropped to his chest. “Five-eleven.”
Then the subtle movement of her shoulders registered. She was hunching down, making herself shorter.
Suddenly, Sean had two fingers tucked beneath her softly jutting chin. “Don’t.”
He was lifting her up, tipping her chin up. He moved closer. She was an unexpected combination of creamy skin and steely strength. His fingertips sizzled at the contact. He wanted to sample a taste of that smooth, heated skin.
Her hands came up and splayed across his chest, halting him from coming any closer without pushing him back. It was too tender a touch to ignore, too hesitant a touch to justify the way his nerve endings jumped to greet the clutch of her fingertips. Her eyes had washed to a pale dove-gray, the rounded pupils big and black in their centers, as if she were drugged with the same hazy feeling that seemed to be clouding his own mind.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Judging by the hypnotic effect this woman’s body was having on his, he was charging his engines. He was giving vent to several months of unintended celibacy. He needed sex. Lots of it. He needed to get this fever she was igniting out of his system so he could do his job.
The idea in his mind became a living, breathing desire.
She wouldn’t.
He didn’t dare ask.
He had nothing to lose.
“Are you free this weekend?”
And then she did shove him. She retreated a step into her bedroom while Sean stumbled into the hallway.
Her rosy cheeks had blanched, but there was plenty of fervor left in her voice. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, Mr. Maddox, but you can’t just come in here and take me apart with your eyes like that. Cassie stood you up, so you grab the next female who comes along? That’s the most insulting pickup routine I’ve ever—”
“Are you available?” He waved aside her rightful protest before she could lambaste him again. “I know, I know.” He moved into the foyer, away from the unspoken desire that had sparked between them. He needed to think clearly here. Think of the job. He glanced at his watch and swore. “I’m already late.”
Unless he drove straight through the night. He couldn’t risk any holdups with the airlines. But getting there in time did him no good unless he had an escort.
“Late for what?”
Bingo. Curiosity. She might have voiced a ladylike protest at his impromptu invitation, but she was interested. Despite her dating survival instincts, she was interested. Sean’s libidinous radar kicked