Page 18 of Feel Me

“Oh, I’m sure you have, counselor,” I say, my face growing hotter.

“. . . and I’m pretty sure that’s a blush you have going on. Hmm, it might be one of my best ones yet.”

I slam the stack of screwed up notes against my desk and glare at him. “Is there something you need help with Assistant District Attorney O’Brien? I’m very busy.”

He straightens, cocky grin firmly in place, lean muscles flexing just enough to show he works out, and again looking way too good in a suit. Damn it, does he have to bethisattractive?

“No, I just came in here to see if you’re mad at me,” he says, adding a well-rehearsed wink. “Nice to know you’re not.”

I push away from my desk and open my bottom drawer, reaching for my purse. “How about dinner??”

“I don’t date men I work with,” I say, my grip to my purse strap way too tight.

“I wasn’t asking you out,” he says, his voice fading with every word.

If I wasn’t blushing before, I certainly am now. For a moment, I simply freeze, my mind racing with how to respond.

My fingers clench around my purse strap hard enough to hurt. I lift my chin as he carefully straightens. The arrogance initially so vivid in his features is gone as well as any hint of flirtation.

“Look, I don’t date women I work with either.” He crosses his arms, appearing embarrassed for me. “We were supposed to discuss the Morris Miller case following our meeting with Rosana. With everything that went down, we never had the chance.” He speaks slowly, as if trying to make sure I understand that our relationship is strictly business. No, I’m not humiliated or anything. “I know you often work late so I thought we could have something delivered and go over the case then.”

He does a one shoulder shrug, trying to appear casual. Based on his far too rigid stance, he doesn’t quite pull it off.

I have two choices here: Say no and all but admit that I’m too mortified to be alone with him?after wrongfully assuming he wanted to date me?or pretend to be strong and take the meeting.

“In that case, count me in,” I say, beaming.

He puckers an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Of course. Maybe when we’re done with the case, I can cover some aspects of victim trauma and discuss interview skills that may help you in the future.”

“Sure,” he says, eyeing me in a way that tells me he can see right through me. “Thai sound good?”

“Sounds great,” I say, standing.

Oh . . .gawd. Why would I think he was asking me out?

I force another smile and plop my giant bag on the desk, spilling the contents across the surface when the front closure pops open.

If this were a romantic comedy, my desk would be littered with tampons, condoms, and an extra pair of panties. I wish I was that lucky. Any of those items would be welcome over the tattered paperbacks spread across the slick wood: bare-chested men and their come-hither stares firmly in place, groin muscles bulging.

Declan stills in place, his gaze traveling across each model gripping his ladylove mid-swoon. “My Lusty Highlander?” he asks, reading off the titles. “My Pirate, My Lover?” He reaches for the last before I can snatch it away from him. “The Naked Cowboy who Deflowered Me?” He lifts his chin. “You?” He pauses, as if gathering his words. But when he swallows hard enough to bounce his Adam’s apple, it’s clear he’s just trying not to laugh. “You like this sort of thing?”

“Of course not!” I insist.

Oh, and there’s that cocky smirk I could have done without. “Then why do you have them?”

“I picked them up at used bookstore.”

“They sell crotch-less panties at that bookstore?” he asks, laughing.

My face is officially on fire. “There’s a woman I met at the domestic violence shelter who loves them,” I say. It’s true, but so do I. And no, she’s not getting these bad boys.

“So you purchased them for this woman?”

“I wanted to give her a treat,” I say, lying my ass off. I throw in a flirty shrug and teasing grin, trying to give the impression that I think it’shilariousthat there are actually women who read this sort of thing, even though, I am, indeed, one of those women. “It’s just the kind of gal I am.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, his humor fading.

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