Page 20 of Hannah's Truth

“Not sure I can. It’s full of Tim’s shorthand.” He dropped his forehead to hers, discovering the contactwashelpful at playing the role. “I’ll decipher it later. If there’s anything useful, I’ll turn it over to Wallace.”

She nodded her approval, rolled her hand to keep him going.

“I’m sure it’s just kitchen stuff. I keep telling you Tim isn’t one of the bad guys.”

“I believe you. Do you mind if I look at it?”

“Only if you can’t think of anything better to do with your husband,” he said with a wink.

“Is that an offer?”

“It could be. I’ll clean up. Then let’s go for that drive. You’re right, I do need a break from this place.”

“Wherever I want to go?”

Her voice was sweet, but he sensed the trap in the calculating look in her golden brown eyes. What else would a new husband say to his wife? “Of course, sweetheart.” What kind of trouble could they get in? He’d planted the truck stop in the middle of nowhere and the closest attraction was the rope swing he’d put out over the river about a half mile away.

He unlaced his boots at the bed and escaped to the bathroom, turning on the tap for the shower, letting the water heat. A moment later, he heard the radio going in the bedroom.

She was unpacking. Logical. Necessary. It made him almost as prickly as the idea of someone bugging his place. He just had to think of this whole thing as an op. In the Army they had a team, but personnel shifted with the objective. Hannah was justa personnel shift. He had to stay focused on doing whatever helped them accomplish the mission.

From his perspective, that mission was justice for Tim. He wouldn’t let the DEA make Tim the scapegoat and ruin the man’s reputation. Now he just needed Hannah to tell him why she’d come running his way with a story about getting hitched in Vegas.

While they were out and away from the truck stop, he’d call Eva. If she could get them married with a few keystrokes, surely she could figure out what the DEA was looking for in his kitchen. Knowing his old friend, she was probably already working on it.

He checked his cell phone, relieved at the absence of messages from Beth or Kyle. His ex might consider him the dumbest decision of her life, but she was smart enough to accept the protection he’d offered.

Bart had pulled off his t-shirt and started unbuttoning the fly of his pants when the bathroom door opened. “Well, hello.”

“Hi.” Hannah’s eyes went wide. “Oh. Hi.”

He smiled at the double take and it was more than a little gratifying to watch her eyes track over his bare chest and lower before snapping back up to his face. “See something you like?”

It spoiled the moment, which was the reaction he’d hoped for. If she kept looking at him like that he wouldn’t be able to keep things between them professional.

She recovered quickly, stepping closer and closing the door. “Definitely.” She purred the single word and he was instantly hard for her. The bathroom wasn’t spacious, but it was starting to feel more like a sardine can. He backed up, running out of room as he hit the vanity, but she leaned in closer.

“We can talk in there,” she whispered, her voice calm and steady.

He resented her detachment just a little. She walked into his life and the atmosphere changed. Inside and out. He’d neverrealized how quickly her soft, feminine scent could overwhelm a room. Granted it was a small room, but he’d felt it in the diner. Even when she’d first entered the crime scene out back, if he had to be honest about it.

“We could have talked in the car,” he replied at last. “You couldn’t wait ten minutes?”

“We’re newlyweds who’ve been apart for six weeks. Let’s give them what they expect.”

He glared down at her, but she didn’t move. “Did you find a video feed?”

She shook her head.

“Then give me some room before I break the agreement we made in Vegas.” He put his hands on her arms and gently moved her back, but she winced at the contact.

He jerked his hands back, reminding himself her response wasn't personal. He needed to know exactly how she'd wound up on ‘injured reserve’ before her arrival in Virginia.

“Off with the jacket,” he said, not bothering to whisper. “Come on,” he coaxed, trying to sound like a horny husband. “You’ve got me at a disadvantage here.” He pushed the jacket off of her shoulders, let his hands cruise lightly down her arms to her wrists, and tugged the cuffs free. He shifted to the side, hanging the jacket on the peg behind the door.

When he looked back, she had that silky gray shirt off already and he openly admired the view of the black lace bra against the creamy swells of her breasts.

The last time he’d seen her, she’d been dressing almost as quickly as she was undressing now. He wasn’t sure he could remember how to remove his pants. He needed a distraction like a life preserver.

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