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Choosing not to respond, I returned my attention to the stakeout. Closing this case would not only mean a paycheck, but it would also free up my evenings and alleviate my lower back pain.
Pascal could sweat. Despite my utter lack of interest in the suggestion, I would meet him. He was the client, after all. But I wouldn’t go willingly, and I’d be vigilant. I’d force him to remain professional and stick to discussing business only. That would work, right?
My phone flashed again.
Wear something sexy.
Talk like that and I’ll be wearing my sidearm.
hot.
Chapter3
Pascal
Istood up when she strode through the small restaurant like she owned the place. She had her dark hair slicked back into a ponytail that hung down her back. And she was wearing a dress. I had never considered Parker as the kind of woman who wore dresses, but shit, she looked amazing.
Granted, I didn’t know her well. Our paths had crossed a couple of years ago when my career went to shit, and aside from her slightly annoying personality and professional skills I couldn’t help but respect, she hadn’t made much of an impression.
But after months of searching for an investigator, I wound up in her office. And I used that term loosely. It was wild that someone with a résumé like hers would be working out of a glorified utility closet in the back of a tattoo shop. But what did I know? The past few years had certainly not been what I had expected.
So my job tonight was simple. Pull out all the stops. Do whatever it took to convince her to take the case. Because my family needed her considerable talent in order to help us finally understand what had happened to my father.
Because the unknown was becoming suffocating. It was a heavy rock that rested on my chest every moment of every day. Since Adele had shown us those brakes, I hadn’t been able to take a single deep breath. Something horrific had happened. Twice. And if we didn’t solve this, it could happen again. We could lose another person we loved.
My life had gone to shit, and that was an understatement. But I had one job these days—protect my family. And I would use every dollar I had and all my connections to keep them safe and secure.
Even if the price was an evening with this woman.
As she made her way through the crowded space, I had to remind myself that I disliked her. Because the sight of her was scrambling my brain.
It was probably the dress. Definitely.
It was black. The top was conservative, with a high neck and long sleeves. But the skirt was short. So short that my traitorous eyes drank in every inch of her long legs.
Parker Harding was not a tall woman, but she was athletic and carried herself like she could take on the world.
As she approached, I was momentarily stunned by her glossy lips and her thick eyelashes.
I pulled out her chair, ignoring the grimace she gave me as she sat.
This would be even harder than I thought. Because I was here, in a Michelin-starred restaurant with flickering candles on the table, seated across from a complete bombshell.
It had been years since I’d shared a meal with a gorgeous woman.
My sex life had certainly slowed when I moved up north, though I still had plenty of fun. But I didn’t date. Sipping wine and verbally sparring and soaking up the delicious tension for hours with a woman I ached to get naked? Hadn’t realized I missed it until this very moment.
Not that I wanted to get Parker naked, of course. She was pretty, sure, but my response was purely biological. I was a man, after all. And she was wearing a sexy dress.
Though the look of annoyed boredom on her face helped. Because it left my dick confused as hell.
“This isn’t a date, Gagnon. Stop looking at me like you want to eat me for dinner,” she snapped, placing her napkin on her lap in a prim way that juxtaposed her fiery words.
I froze. Dammit. Looked like my cock liked the sass. Those words, that tone, would be my undoing.
She was tough and rough around the edges but sleek and pretty and mouthy all at the same time. Shit, it was a turn-on. She was probably the type who would insult my technique in bed. And I’d love every fucking second of it.
I shook the thought away and urged my dick to knock it off. Because I was desperate. My siblings were counting on me to find a PI who would go above and beyond to help us. None of the folks in Boston I’d called had any interest in schlepping up to Northern Maine. And frankly, outsiders would have a hard time getting information from the locals.
