Page 38 of Deep Tide

Sean didn’t respond. He’d reached the limit of what he was prepared to discuss with her, so he let it go, hoping she’d drop it.

She pulled a gleaming knife from the wooden block on the counter. Her hands became a blur as she started chopping.

“So... I’m guessing the rest of it’s top secret, right?” She didn’t look up. “Joel doesn’t talk about his work anymore. I don’t even think he tells Miranda about it.”

Sean wasn’t working with Joel’s task force on this particular case. But that was one more detail he didn’t want to get into, so he stayed silent.

She sent him a sideways look. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

She lifted the lid off the pot on the stove. A cloud of steam rose up, and Sean’s stomach rumbled. Using the blade of the knife, she scraped the herbs into the pot, then she replaced the lid and turned to look at him.

“How’d you get into the FBI? I thought they took mostly lawyers, accountants, and computer geeks.”

He smiled. “Guess I’m lucky.” Plus, he had some computer geek in him, but she didn’t need to know about that.

She folded her arms and watched him. The kitchen was warm and steamy, and a lock of hair clung to her neck. She looked amazingly sexy, standing there glaring at him.

“Are you single? Or was that a lie, too?” she asked.

“No.”

“No, you’re not single or—”

“I’m single.”

He held her gaze, and he could have sworn her cheeks flushed a little more.

She turned away and took the lid off the soup again. She added a bowl of raw shrimp to the pot, then stirred it with a long wooden spoon.

“So. Washington, D.C., huh?” She shot a glance at him. “You like it there?”

“It’s all right.”

“I assume you’re from Houston. Do you ever miss Texas?”

“Sometimes.”

He leaned back in the chair and picked up the beer. Whatever test she’d just given him, he seemed to have passed it, and it felt like they were having an almost normal conversation.

“What do you miss?” she asked.

“My family. My parents are in Houston still and my sister lives in Austin.”

She nodded.

“And Mexican food.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Mexican or Tex-Mex?”

Being a foodie, she probably considered them completely different.

“Tex-Mex.”

She added some seasonings to the pot. “I spent four years in New York.”

“Oh yeah? College?”

“Culinary school. Then working in restaurants.” She shook some more seasonings into the pot. “I was desperate for good Tex-Mex.”

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