Page 17 of Jonas

“Would you prefer Lolita⁠—”

“Ew. That’s worse!”

She wasn’t wrong.

“Wolfess? Vixen? Cougar?”

“Stop. Please, you’re killing me.” She lifted her hands to cover her ears. “I take back Casanova and promise never to say it again if you promise to stop with your horrible nicknames.”

“Deal.”

She dropped her hands and gave me a dubious stare. “You’re lucky you’re good-looking because your nickname game sucks.”

I barked out a startled laugh.

Damn, this woman was a trip.

“Good you noticed,” I teased.

“Hard not to.”

With that, she broke eye contact and her hands went back to hovering over her keyboard.

Right.

Work.

“Daryl Barnes. Fifty-three. Served ten years in the Navy. Gunner’s Mate. After he left the Navy, he worked in private security. Five years with a company called Commitment. The company went bankrupt. Then a six-month gap in employment. He worked for another NGO called Oceaneering working maritime security, now he has his own business, Barnes Security.” When I stopped, Derrika peered over at me. “Told you it was preliminary. KK attached an image.”

I tapped on the attachment and handed my phone over.

Derrika studied the photo. I studied her profile. She had tiny freckles across the bridge of her nose and a few darker ones near her ear. Other than that, nothing marred her perfectly smooth skin. I suddenly had the urge to see if she had other freckles. I wanted to know if that pale skin pinkened when she was turned on. I wanted that with a need that made me think Delilah was the perfect nickname. I’d gladly tell her my secrets for a chance to trail my lips down the column of her throat, to see if her skin felt as soft as it looked, to watch those sea blue eyes deepen.

“At least you know your action flicks.” Her statement pulled me from my inappropriate thoughts.

“Come again?”

“You’re right, he looks like Steven Seagal in Glimmer Man. Good call on that.”

She handed me back my phone and went to work typing. I watched her work until her eyes sliced to me.

“You’re making me nervous.”

Immediately, I leaned away from her, putting as much distance between us as I could. She rolled her eyes—actually rolled her eyes to the ceiling before they rolled back in such an exaggerated fashion it took seconds for her to complete the dramatic show.

“Not that kind of nervous. The ‘you’re looking over my shoulder’ kind. Shoo, go find something to eat or something.”

I couldn’t remember if a woman had ever shooed me away, or anyone for that matter. My contemplation was cut short by my phone ringing in my hand.

Derrika leaned over to look at the screen.

Bold move.

“Nosy much?”

Derrika shrugged. “I could’ve snuck a peek and pretended I wasn’t looking. But I’ve found it’s much easier to cut through the bullshit and just be me.”

Damn if she wasn’t right.