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“Hey, Hopkins. This is Bridger.”
My heart nearly flips out of my chest.
Sure, he told me who he was, but I’d know that deep, rich voice anywhere. It belongs to the man whose finger made me insane last night.
The man my partner seems determined to put behind bars.
“What do you want?” I ask, a little more harshly than I mean to.
“Easy.” He laughs. “I don’t know your cell number, but all it took was a quick search to find the number for the local sheriff’s office. How’d you like to have dinner with me tonight?”
My flesh prickles and my pussy clenches as I recall how skillfully he touched me in a room full of people.
I glance to Peterson, who’s not looking in my direction. God, yes, I’d like to have dinner with Miles. Better yet, I’d like to skip dinner and get under him because if he’s as talented as he was with just his fingers, I know it’ll be amazing when he gives me his all. Meaning his dick and mouth too.
But it can’t happen. Not while I’m investigating a dead body found on his land. Last night was a mistake. Innocent, yes, and I could explain it away as an epic coincidence. But a second time?
“You know I can’t,” I say finally.
“What? You can ride my fingers in the middle of a bar but you can’t have dinner with me?”
God, my cheeks are on fire. That gruff voice does things to me. Damn it.
“Besides,” he continues, “don’t you want those pretty lace panties back?”
“I thought you said I wasn’t going to get them back.”
He laughs. “I said I’d consider returning them if you go out with me. Of course I’m happy to keep them as a souvenir. They smell like you.”
God. He’s a dirty talker. And he’s skilled.Andhe’s uninhibited. Why do his words make me want to explode all over his fingers? Because it never happened. I got close and then we were interrupted. I want more than what we did the night before. I want to take his dick for a spin. I’m betting it’s magnificent. And huge. He has to be proportional, right?
“You going to say something this century?” he asks.
I lick my dry lips and then turn away from Peterson and everyone else in the station. “Miles—”
“Tell you what,” he says, cutting me off. “We’ll go back to Silverton. Or somewhere even farther from Bayfield. No one will see you cavorting with a murder suspect.”
I sigh. “I don’t think you or your brothers had anything to do with that body.”
“But your partner does.”
“Yeah. I haven’t lived here that long, but apparently your old man had a lot of enemies.”
“I might have his DNA, but I never met the man. Never talked to him. Yet I’ve been here less than two weeks and I’ve already met several people who hate his guts, and mine now too. I’m betting that dead guy hated him, too.”
“Most likely, but it’s my job to prove it.”
Silence for a moment, until—
“I’m aging here, Hopkins. I don’t give a shit about the investigation, as long as it steers away from me and my brothers. I want more of you.You. Not your badge. Although…you can bring the handcuffs.”
I close my eyes, draw in a breath, and can’t help but smile. “Okay. Just dinner. And somewhere…not here.”
“You choose the place. I don’t know the area very well yet.”
“There’s a cute little Italian place in Silverton. I’ll have to meet you there. Around seven?”
“Hell, no,” he replies. “When I take a gorgeous woman out, I pick her up.”
