Page 37 of Missile Strike

He let out a husky laugh, and when she could breathe again, she looked up. His blue eyes were lit with humor, the crinkles in the corners of his eyes more pronounced.

Their gazes locked. Held.

The laughter faded.

Heat flooded her, loosening her limbs and arrowing to her core.

His gaze sharpened as it dropped to her lips, then lazily traveled down the rest of her. She’d ditched her blazer, and her cream shell blouse was damp from Trip’s antics, clinging to the lace of her bra.

“Bella.” Danny’s voice was low, raw, and the sound of it melted her insides like hot candle wax.

She took an instinctive step forward, her lips parting with the need to feel his mouth on hers. To taste him in return. Her palm met his chest. Felt the thump of his heart beneath her touch. He smelled like wet dog, but also sea wind, ripe citrus, and driftwood.

Kiss me, she willed him silently, because she didn’t have the courage to say it out loud.

He seemed to understand her anyway. His pupils flared.

He stepped into her, lowering his head.

Isabella closed her eyes and savored the brush of his lips against hers.

Soft yet firm. Smooth.

Her body quivered in response.

His lips brushed hers again, more firmly this time. The hand at her waist tightened, pulling her into his hard frame.

Ding dong.

Danny’s head snapped up. He grabbed her hand and pulled her back into the house.

Her doorbell. A visitor.

“It’s my friend.” In all the chaos, she’d completely forgotten Talia was coming over.

He stepped in front of her, his hand sliding to the small of his back beneath his shirt.

She touched his shoulder. “It’s my friend, Talia,” she repeated.

His hand dropped to his side. He peered through the peephole, then threw open the door.

Out on the landing, Talia stood, still dressed in the cream blouse and navy trousers she’d worn to the office. She took a step back, her dark brown eyes going wide.

Isabella slipped out from behind Danny. “It’s okay, Talia. This is Danny.” She gave Talia the act like you’ve never heard of him stare. “The gala’s new head of security.”

Danny gave a respectful nod. “Ma’am.”

Talia tucked a strand of auburn hair behind one ear. “Ooh, ma’am. I don’t feel old enough to be a ma’am, but I think in this case I’m more flattered than insulted.”

Wait, was Talia actually batting her eyelashes? Isabella’s mood unexpectedly soured.

“Sorry.” Danny smiled, flashing white teeth. “Force of habit, Miss…?”

“Collins, Talia Collins.” Her gaze swept Danny’s damp outfit, then Isabella’s, curiosity lighting her eyes. “What did I miss?”

“Trip got out and found his way to the pond where he took a swim.” Isabella motioned her friend inside.

Talia tilted her head. “How did he get out?” She dropped to one knee to greet the dog. “What did you do, naughty boy?”