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"Let me see." She clicked on her calendar, picked a date and started typing. "Here we go."
Keeping her chin at the perfect haughty level and her gaze as uninterested as possible considering the circumstances, she turned her laptop around so he could read what she'd typed.
WHEN HELL FREEZES OVER.
Isaac grinned, one corner of his mouth pulling up higher than the other in a way that should have made him look goofy.Instead, it just made her grateful she was sitting down and wearing panties for once. Her five-season-old Diane Von Furstenberg wrap dress had been through enough already without having to deal with her very physical reaction to him. His gaze dropped to her peaked nipples poking at the silk jersey material as she internally cursed her choice in bras this morning. Where were the obnoxiously padded Victoria’s Secret bras when she needed one?
"I see you can already feel it. There's definitely a chill in the air already." The bastard winked at her and dropped the churro bag on her keyboard. "See ya soon."
Watching him strut out of her office was good for many reasons, but number one because her sanity started to resurface. It definitely wasn't because of the perfect view of his tight ass. Nope. Not at all.
She was still staring at the empty doorway, mouth slightly agape, a minute later when Elisa, Vivi and Lexie walked through it. As always, Vivi strode in like the world was hers—definitely a holdover from her DEA agent days. Lexie strolled in behind her, typing away on her tablet—no doubt hacking into one database or another, wearing a T-shirt that declared I PET MY PUSSY EVERY DAY over a screen-printed picture of her cat, Ruffles. As always, Elisa hung back, observing the terrain before taking a step in side and stationing herself by the door for a fast get away.
Lexie tossed her tablet onto Tamara's office couch and grabbed the churro bag, then opened it and took a deep inhale. Bleached blonde with tattoos from the spot behind her ear to her toes and ever-present cherry red lipstick (which she called the blood of her enemies), Lexie had never looked as angelically happy as she did when she pulled out a churro and took a bite.
"Isaac might feel a chill but I'm getting fucking hot and bothered and he's not even flirting with me." Lexie took another bite, her eyes fluttering shut for a second before snapping back open. "Will you please sleep with him so the churros continue? Think of your friends. We have needs. Sugary. Cinnamony. Fried Doughy. Needs."
Of course they'd been eavesdropping. Why had she ever thought they wouldn't be?
Vivi hooked a finger in the bag and glanced inside but wisely didn't try to claim it. "I don't even like churros and I'd fuck that boy silly."
"So when are you going to say yes?" Elisa asked from her spot by the door. "We have an office pool going."
She shrugged. "I'm not."
The other three women started laughing in disbelief, Vivi so hard she snorted. Tamara didn't mean to join in, but the laughter bubbled up inside her and she snagged the bag of churros before Lexie could inhale them all.
It was ridiculous. She wasn't sleeping with Isaac Camacho. Even if she had time for a man, he wasn't her type, which was rich, CEOs on the hunt for a trophy wife who rarely, if ever, made her lungs tighten with anticipation or her legs wobbly with want. Only trouble lay that way, and she had more than enough of that in her life already.
Chapter 5
Isaac
Isaac hadn't whacked off in the shower so much since he'd first started getting boners.
Masturbation wasn't exactly the thing he should be thinking about the day after Tamara had turned him down for a date again...but it was. Like an asshole, he couldn't stop thinking about how badly he wanted to fuck her—no, like a dammed sap he couldn't stop thinking about her, just her—even as he stood in the middle of the Devil's Dip Gym filled as usual with sweaty, young fighters determined to prove themselves, grizzled trainers, and managers with dollar signs in their eyes.
He gave each one a hard look, but no one set off his danger detector. Lash and Keir Locke, B-Squad's resident fixer, had gone through the building's closed-circuit video streams, phone records, and anything else that might tip them off about how Wolczyk had gotten turned on to the possibility Tamara was hiding out under the B-Squad umbrella. She was Taz's ex-wife, so it made sense to check the place out, but the question was, had the bounty hunter almost clapped eyes on her because of dumb luck or something else?
Before he could complete a second scan of the room, Kelvin Park stepped into his field of vision—at least the bottom half of it. Kelvin may have been as muscled and tough as a cornered bull hopped up on meth and tequila, but at five feet, eight inches tall, he wasn't coming close to blocking out Isaac's view of the possible suspects.
"You again?" The gym manager pivoted to stand beside Isaac and then held out a Styrofoam cup of sludge with delusions of being coffee.
"Keeping track of me? I'm touched." He accepted the cup and shot back a mouthful of lukewarm liquid.
It was strong enough to make his eyes water and his chest sprout new hair. Whatever Park was putting in the coffee pot it shouldn't be given to small children or the mentally unbalanced.
The other man snorted. "More like wondering why in the fuck you're repeatedly showing up here like head lice in a pre-school."
"Sage got sent home again?"
Kelvin had more war stories from being a single parent to a four-year-old princess in training than the grizzliest Recon staff sergeant. The latest all centered around the Battle of Head Lice Hill. Listening to his stories had Isaac's whole body itching.
"That shit is the plague." The gym manager scratched the back of his skull, caught himself in mid-itch and groaned. "It's starting to mess with my head."
"Mayonnaise." He gripped the cup tighter to keep from scratching the sudden phantom itch, cracking the Styrofoam and soaking his hand before he could drop it in the trash can next to Kelvin's desk near the gym's front door. "Slick it on there, have her sleep in a shower cap and suffocate the suckers."
One eyebrow raise was all it took for the other man to signal that he hadn't missed that overreaction. "And exactly how do you know this?"
