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When Clay ended the call, she snapped her attention from her personal musings and focused on his face.
Rugged features and his dark beard only added to his allure. Not to mention that small bump on the bridge of his nose that told her it had been broken at least once in the years since she knew him.
Hot. Very hot.
“I should have known when you knocked on my door that you weren’t bringing me delicious mint cookies.”
She blinked up at him. “You like the mint ones? I pegged you for a Samoa kind of guy.”
He growled low in his throat. “I don’t like anything right this minute, especially the fact that my contact is instructing me to drive this thing to a location.” He waved a hand at the bomb in her car.
“What location?” she asked.
“I don’t know that. They won’t tell me,” he bit off. “They’re sending me coordinates, and I haven’t dealt with that kind of secretive shit since the Army.”
Lark was eating this up. More words poured into her mind.Frustration rolls off him like waves of energy. He rakes a hand through his hair.
He stopped talking and cocked a brow at her. “What are you doing?”
“This would make a great story.”
“Story?”
“Yes. I’m a reporter.”
“I thought you work for Quick Bunny.”
She tilted her head to give him her best are-you-serious look. “I’m a freelance reporter.”
He grunted. “Isn’t that the equivalent of being a waiter in LA?”
“Not funny, Clay. So which one of us is getting behind the wheel? Because if it’s you, you’re going to have to move the seat back, and Ihatewhen somebody adjusts my seat. I can never get it right again. Last time my brother drove, it took me a month to be able to reach the pedals right.”
He looked her up and down. “You’re not driving. You’re not evengoing.”
“It’s my car.”
“I’m commandeering it.”
“Oh, is that what you did as a cop?”
“What? No.”
She cut him off. “If you’re commandeering my car, I’m going to have to see a badge.”
He took a step closer to her, hovering so near that she saw the swirling patterns of cinnamon and nutmeg in his eyes were actually specked with ginger as well.
“You’re not seeing my badge, kid.”
“Let’s get this straight—I’m not a kid.”
His stare dipped to her chest and her very ample cleavage. It was a trait that made up for her getting the short gene. For being so petite, she had all the curves.
His gaze jerked back up to hers. “All right. What was your name again?”
“Lark. And you know me. Or you did.”
He narrowed his eyes on her for so long she wondered if that bomb hadn’t put off some radiation that melted his brain. Finally, he heaved a big sigh. “Lark Steele. Andrew’s little sister.”
