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When he glanced over at her, she was pink.
“You know the rules. You stalk me and I fuck your ass. You’re just lucky we were interrupted just now.”
She scowled at him. “Coming by to ask you out for lunch isn’t stalking.”
Maybe not if she’d really been a marketing consultant.
It was so hot out, it felt as if the soles of his shoes were already melting to the pavement. Luckily, Ed’s was only a block away.
“I think you know exactly what you came by for.” He gave her a fiendish smile, and when she ducked her head she seemed almost guilty.
Damn. How could a woman keep him in this constant state of arousal whenever she was around? There was more to life than fucking a hot cop in the ass, but she’d turned him into a drooling pervert. He’d been a pervert before they’d met, but the drooling part was new.
On impulse, he grabbed her hand and held it as they walked. Her gaze flew to his, surprised, and although he suddenly felt silly, he didn’t let go. It was too late to take the gesture back now. The damage was done, and he liked how her small hand fit into his.
Didn’t Addison warn him not to do this? Shit. He need to reevaluate his life if Addison had turned into the voice of reason.
When they got to Ed’s, he pulled Mila inside. She looked around the small delicatessen, but she was scanning the other patrons rather than the menu. The idea that one of her cop friends might see them together and fuck up her cover probably had her stomach in knots, but that was why he’d brought her. That and the food was good.
Maybe eating would help him stop thinking about dragging her off to Fitte for a few hours.
They ordered food and grabbed a table near the back. The place was emptying out, and the L-shaped layout meant they almost had a private room.
“So,” he began as they sorted out sandwiches and soda, “not working today?”
If she was stalking him, she was most definitely working.
“I
was working from home today,” she replied, which was as close to the truth as she could probably get. “I just wanted to see you.”
The lie reminded him how he barely knew her. That bothered him, for some reason. The whole situation was fucked up. He wanted to get to know her, but knew she’d be lying about the important things. So, what part of Mila was real? How was he supposed to trust anything she ever said?
For all he knew, she was married and had five kids. It would have been easy enough to check—even to hack into her computer and see everything about her personal life. He hadn’t gone that far because it felt like a betrayal, but not knowing what was true and what was cover story was really starting to bother him.
“What’s your favorite book?”
“What?” She blinked at him as though he’d asked her something bizarre.
“Your favorite book,” he repeated. “We’ve hooked up twice and I know nothing about you other than that you stalk men and you’re sexually submissive.”
She laughed and stabbed at her sandwich with the tiny plastic sword that had held it together. “I didn’t even know that about myself until we met. It’s kind of humiliating.”
“But it turns you on.”
Her big brown eyes raised to meet his gaze. “Obviously.” She took a small bite of her ham on rye and chewed it quietly. He took a bite of his own, giving her time to process things. Was she sorting her lies out before she spoke?
A man cleared the table behind them, then disappeared again before Mila said anything else.
“My favorite book of all time? What genre?”
He sighed and tried not to fall in love with her on the spot. “Let’s start with that, then. What’s your favorite genre?”
“Hmm . . . it depends on the day. I like mysteries, fantasy, and some science fiction.”
“You’re not going to feed me a line about liking fancy lit books?”
She leaned closer and whispered, “After what I’ve let you do to me, I think I’ve lost the opportunity to make myself seem classy.”
