AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He’d worked with trained agents who couldn’t have pulled this off better.
Her eyes really were a marvel. Her driver’s license surely stated they were brown, but sitting so close, hanging on every word, he saw the depth of emotion no simple definition of ‘brown’ could convey.
What the hell was wrong with him? For the second time in a week, he decided he’d miscalculated on this case.
He’d known working with her would be different, but he hadn’t expected this. It was all he could do to remember he was supposed to be watching for Anthony Lester, owner of the hottest new restaurant in Columbia.
After going through the intel Heather had dumped in his lap, he knew an operation this sophisticated needed a serious bankroll. Lester, with his rumored connections to drug money and crime syndicates out of Florida, was a prime candidate.
Even if the slippery bastard wasn’t directly involved, it was more than likely he knew who was.
Over some stunning chocolate confection served with two forks, Dale spotted Lester as he emerged from the kitchen and joined Columbia’s popular mayor, who’d been seated near the front window.
Bold move on the mayor’s part.
Dale would’ve believed it was a simple friendly exchange if not for the mayor’s mistake of looking a bit too long at Dale and Heather. Lester strolled toward another table, then left the dining room altogether. The mayor resumed his meal and Dale filed it away for further analysis.
He was reaching for his wallet when two flutes of champagne arrived. “What’s this?”
The waitress grinned. “The owner heard about your happy news,” she said. “Congratulations from all of us.”
“Oh, Dale! Isn’t that nice?” Heather gushed. “Shouldn’t we thank him personally?”
Dale stifled a groan. “We’d like that,” he lied. The last thing he wanted was a face to face with Lester before he had all the evidence together.
“He’s busy in the back right now,” the waitress replied. “But I’ll let him know you appreciate the gesture.”
“Thanks.” The extra attention only served to confirm Dale’s original suspicions. Lester was all too aware of Dale and Heather’s potential interference in his latest cash cow.
Dale raised his champagne to Heather, but took only one small sip and set his glass aside, urging Heather to enjoy hers. “I’m driving,” he explained. He didn’t want to be in the restaurant any longer than necessary and he didn’t want to leave himself open to a potential drunk driving check-point.
With no more than a raised eyebrow that seemed to imply a sensual promise he couldn’t afford to think about, she made quick work of the champagne and they left the restaurant.
He did his best not to breathe when they returned to the close, safe confines of his car. He should’ve brought the official sedan rather than the more intimate Camaro. Whatever Heather used on her hair teased his senses, leading his thoughts away from the case and into dangerous territory. She was barely out of college and he… well, he hadn’t thought of college in a long time.
He could deal with this, he coached himself, knowing her scent would linger for days. He could have the Camaro detailed once Lester was in custody.
This wasn’t a big deal. He’d been in tighter spaces, though none of them had been quite like this. Besides, forward was the only option. It was too late to turn back and not just because he’d proposed they spend the next forty-eight hours together to trap the leader of the dogfighting ring.
He went over it one more time, even though they’d already made their decision. Lester was dangerous, but Dale didn’t see a way to leave Heather out of this.
Her brother would kill him if—when—he figured out what Dale had done. Brothers didn’t usually see things clearly when sisters were involved.
Dale slid a glance her way as they merged with interstate traffic, searching for a safe topic of conversation. Everything that popped into his head was a minefield.
“Thank you for dinner,” she said politely.
Courteous. Good. He could do courteous. “You’re welcome. I enjoyed it.” He hadn’t meant to add his sincere addition to the polite response. He caught the turn of her head in his peripheral vision, but refused to look her way.
“Me too,” she said at last. “But you aren’t selling it.”
Now he took his eyes off the road long enough to see her grin was genuinely amused. “What do you mean?”
“The lie. You sold it at the Rooster this morning. Really well.” She sighed, but he couldn’t decipher the meaning behind it. He blamed it on the champagne. “This morning everyone believed you’re interested in me. Romantically.”
“Which is what we want,” he pointed out.
“Exactly. You did the same tonight,” she said, holding up her hand and wiggling her ring finger. “The operation’s banker can’t possibly have any doubts about our mutual devotion. So either you didn’t really enjoy it, or your mind is elsewhere right now.”
