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June rounded the corner of the hallway and media room with my phone in her hand. In a furious display of red curls and rumpled T-shirt that barely covered her generous ass, June marched up to me and pointed the phone in my direction. “Who is Cade and why is he getting leads on Meg?”
Ah. That explained it. I extended my hand for the phone. “Cade is my research partner, and don’t worry about it.”
She pivoted the phone away from me, her lips tight. “Brady,Itoldyouto forget about it.”
I went back to cutting cucumbers. I was curious what Cade’s brother, Remington, had turned up when he’d looked into Meg and Archer, but I wasn’t going to let June know that. “It’s not what you think,” I replied honestly. “I started off looking for leverage through Azura, but she tipped me off to some charges in their past that made me curious. Actually, they made all of us curious.”
“Who is ‘us?’” she asked, stalking closer to me with the phone still clutched in her hand.
As soon as she was within reach, I set down the knife and lashed out a hand lightning quick. I pulled her to me and trapped her hard against my body. With her expression still shocked, I swiped the phone from her fingers. “Azura is interested in their illegal activities, Remington, Cade’s brother, is interested in the cyber nature of their prior convictions, and Cade is nosy.”
June scowled. “So, this isn’t some revenge scheme?”
“It was,” I clarified. “But Azura has a personal interest in them, now. If they end up getting caught doing something dirty, well,” I shrugged nonchalantly. “All the better.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said with a suspicious squint of her eyes.
I bent down close. “What are you going to do about it, Matthews?”
She stood on tip toes and brought her lips just below mine. “I’ll unsort your darks and whites.”
“Have mercy,” I grinned. I slid my hands around her waist, and that action alone sent a surge of desire through every cell in my body. Clamping down hard, I lifted her suddenly and sat her on the counter, her wild hair framing both our faces and her dark-lashed, forest green eyes angled down to mine. “I thought you were going to say you’d paint every inch of my walls in neon colors,” I teased.
The joy in her eyes dimmed a touch.
I laid my hands on her thighs and smoothed her soft skin with my thumbs. “Hey. Remember what I told you, June Bug.”
“Stop daydreaming while you’re talking because it makes you feel like that teacher from Peanuts?”
I squeezed playfully above her knees, making her jump. “No. The other thing.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”
“I want to hear you say it,” I pressed.
In monotone, like she was reciting the lunch menu to her fifth-grade class, she droned, “Their crazy doesn’t get to steal my love of art.”
“And?” I prompted.
“And I’m,” she paused, holding up two thumbs, “the best.”
“June,” I glowered.
“I know,” she relented, leaning her head forward to rest on my shoulder. “I know. And I got another commission today.”
“I knew you would,” I said honestly. “You don’t get to give up just because two psychos took advantage of you.”
“It’s a small commission,” she admitted.
I took her face in my hands and forced her to look at me. “Good. Keep going. Brain surgeons don’t perform hemispherectomies in their first year of medical school. Everyone has to start somewhere.”
She pulled a face. “Your job is gross.”
“Better than a podiatrist,” I pointed out, releasing her.
She made a “gag” face, but then smiled softly. “Thanks. I’ll get over it. I know I will. But it stings.”
“Yeah, well. You wouldn’t be sensitive June if it didn’t,” I smiled, leaning into her. “I can replace it with another kind of sting. All kinds, actually.”
