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“Harassing a federal officer is grounds for arrest, you know.”
A pulse behind his eyes pounded with each threatening word that shouldn’t sound so sexy. Forget about losing his composure. He was losing control. “Go ahead and try.”
She cocked her hip to the side and eyed him like an opponent. “To get my phone back or arrest you?”
“Both. You may be a trained agent, but I’ve got skills that have nothing to do with healing people.” He brushed his fingers over the bandage on her forehead. Something about this woman—hell, everything about her—sparked a hunger he shouldn’t think about satiating right now. But dammit, he couldn’t let her leave without having one more taste. “You don’t back down, do you?”
Before she could respond, he slid his hand to cup her cheek and brushed his lips over hers.
She gripped his forearms. “I don’t back down from anyone, especially stubborn, demanding doctors.”
He leaned his hand on the wall and pressed against her. “Thank God.” He’d likely regret his words, but she put on one hell of a sexy show when she stood her ground, so much for a quick restoration of control.
His phone buzzed with a text. Heaving a sigh, he stepped back from Rosalie and checked the message from his executive assistant.
Drug trial organizers heard about attack. Asking for plan to move it to another hospital.
“No fucking way.”
Rosalie reached for his phone. “What?”
He yanked it back. “Nothing. You need to go.”
“Not until I see the ransom demand.”
“Fine.” Anything to get her to leave. He slid his fingers across his screen several times until he pulled up the forwarded email from Karl.
“See?” He handed her the phone, not caring if he sounded childish. Professionalism had flatlined the moment he’d kissed her.
She bit her lip as something intense flashed in her eyes. Relief? Disappointment? He couldn’t tell and didn’t care.
“It’s a typical ransom email.” She handed him his phone. “With typical instructions.”
“Yes, instructions I intend to follow. Now, please leave and let me handle this my way. Your services aren’t wanted here.”
SIX
Rosalie angled her chin out of her mother’s grip. “Don’t worry, Mom. Cann—I mean, the doctor said I won’t have a scar.”
“You were there forever, and all they did was give you a few stitches?” Her mother tilted her head to look at Rosalie’s cut from another angle. “You needed a plastic surgeon. What kind of doctor did you see?”
A hot, stubborn one who thought he knew her job better than she did.
“Oh my God. That dress.” Bella’s shout carried across the empty dance floor.
Rosalie smiled at her cousin, who floated over the shiny wood in a shimmering pink strapless number that accentuated her curvy figure and bubbly personality. “You make a beautiful bride-to-be.”
“And you look gorgeous, you sexy special agent.” Bella flipped her golden curls over her shoulder. “Is your gun tucked into your garter?”
“What kind of special agent would I be if it wasn’t?”
Bella air-kissed her on the cheek. “Ooh, there’s Devon’s aunt Edna. I’d better say hello. See you on the dance floor.”
“Can’t wait.” A hip shimmy emphasized Rosalie’s words, but as soon as Bella left, her shoulders drooped. Malgor might be a threat, but this party might kill her.
A huff sounded next to her. “Please tell me you didn’t bring your gun in here.”
“Just a joke, Mom.”
