Page 12 of Toxic Truth

“Smarter than hell, huh?”

I wish. “Not in what counts. I should have gone to the press first, rather than the company and the feds.”

“I don’t know about that.” He pulled thick socks from his front pocket. “These will warm up your toes.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Relax. They’re clean.”

That wasn’t something she would have doubted. Seated on a side chair, she pulled them on, the tops reaching close to her knees they were so large. “Did the military teach you to be neat?”

“Among other things.” He scrubbed his face and hair dry. A leather cord fell to the floor, his black, shoulder-length locks dangling free, making him look like a pirate. Big and imposing but not dangerous, decency in his beautiful green eyes.

Her pussy creamed, and her nipples peaked to a painful point. She’d never been around such a gorgeous or gracious man. Those in school were uniformly nerdy and treated her as if she were a moron, barely able to draw in a breath without direction, much less competent enough to compete against them. Graduating first in her class hadn’t changed their opinions or impressed the men she eventually worked with. Their attitudes toward women in her field were as juvenile.

Lucas tossed his towel on another chair. “What makes you think the press would have believed what you discovered about the meds?”

It took a moment before his question registered. “Hard data.” She stood and used the rag to swipe the seat clean. “I copied everything without the department head knowing what I did.” She reached inside her bra and pulled out three flash drives.

His eyebrows rose. “Good move on hiding them there. I would never have guessed.”

She snickered. “I wasn’t going to put them in a purse, that’s for sure.”

“Mind if I show what you have to Hank?”

The name didn’t connect at first, then she recalled what he’d said earlier. “Your boss.”

“And friend.” He pulled a platter from atop the fridge and a pot from inside, the living room flowing freely into the dining area and kitchen. “While the stew and biscuits heat up, I’d planned to call him.” He turned on the oven and a burner. “What do you like to drink?” He leaned against the counter, ankles crossed.

The prominent bulge behind his fly captured her full attention. Her mouth went dry. She forced herself to glance away. “Uh…”

“I have beer if you need to relax.”

She would have preferred hard liquor and sleeping within his arms for a month, except that crazy dream wasn’t going to happen. “Do you have hot chocolate?”

“Coming up.” He pulled the box from a cabinet.

“Let me.” She put her flash drives on the table and joined him at the stove. “While I fix our meal, you can call Hank.” She grabbed the box.

He didn’t let go, their fingers touching, his lime scent and natural musk surrounding her.

Aroused and dizzy, she locked her knees to keep from sagging against him.

“Like I said, guests don’t work in my place.” He leaned down to her. “Calling Hank can wait until I feed you. No one’s going to show up tonight.”

The magic between them vanished, her insides rolling. “You can’t know that for sure. I don’t want you or your babies getting hurt.”

A tender smile tugged at his rich mouth. “They won’t, and I sure as hell won’t let anything happen to you or me. Relax, please.” He eased a stray tress off her cheek.

In a fair and sane world, she would have kissed his palm then begged him to hold her, which he’d gladly do. After enjoying their meal and playing in bed, they’d cling to each other, sated and content.

God, I’m hopeless. Before she lost all good sense, she pulled the box free and shooed him away. “Call your boss. Let me work in peace.”

“You don’t know where everything is.”

“I’ll figure it out. I’m smart.” She touched the Stanford logo. “Not blind.”

He shook his head and washed his hands. “Have it your way.”

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