Page 24 of Stealth Mission

“What is the deal with him?”

Buzz kill question.

I fight an eye roll because it seems juvenile given the subject, but it’s really how I feel. “I’m in a sort of arranged marriage situation with him. My father’s stupid idea.”

He doesn’t exactly blink, but there’s a twitch in his gaze. “Damn. That’s… fucked up. I mean…unfortunate.”

I force myself to inhale slowly, trying to dissipate the anger that notion causes every time I think about it. I swing my gaze to the window. “You can’t even imagine. I’m not going to marry him, they can just go jump in a creek.”

“Gotta say, I’m relieved.” A deep chuckle from him lightens my mood. “Great visual, all that pale blue shit will get ruined.”

I let out a small laugh, then close my eyes for a beat. “Anyway, as you can imagine, things are a little awkward. I’m just trying to live my life like that isn’t even on my radar.”

His gaze narrows. The laser focus grows hot.

My body reacts with a flare of interest deep in my core.

His tone is lower when he speaks. “So what are we going to do now?”

Huh?

I process every word of that question one by one. Especially hanging on the wordwe.

With my mouth canting down in a frown, I lean back, pressing myself against the leather seat to keep from scootingcloser to him. “I’m going to have the driver take me home. There, I’m going to promptly fall into bed and try to pretend this day never happened.”

His fingers spread on his thigh, smoothing the fine fabric of his suit over a column of muscles as he turns thoughtful. “It’s been a weird day. But honestly, I would never wish it didn’t happen. I wouldn’t have been here right now.”

I kind of agree. But I’m not able to admit that because my tongue tied itself in a knot. That’s not the only reaction. My hand has leaped to my chest. Beneath my palm there’s an alarming, thunderous pattern of beats.

“Walt, you're a smooth talker, aren’t you?”

The affronted look he had earlier today returns as if being called a smooth talker is almost as bad as being accused of being a bank robber.

“Not hardly.”

“I beg to differ, I think you can talk any woman you want into your bed.”

More affronted. Maybe even pissed. His reply has an undercurrent of hostility. “I’m direct. I know how to say what I think. Amongst other skills.”

I’m betting panty-slaying is one of those skills.

Maybe I’m running scared because my hackles sure do feel raised. “I still think you’ve got a lot of practice with women.”

He shifts in his seat, twisting his tie around his fingers. One corner of his mouth tucks back in a slight grin. That little move changes everything about the energy cracking between us. “I’m not a virgin if that’s what you’re asking.”

Oh, snap.

I almost laugh, but I’m too freaking hot. “You weren’t kidding, you’re direct. I gotta say, I’m happy you’re not a virgin…”

There’s a quick change in his expression. Way more intense.

“Holy runaway lips. That came out all wrong.” I cover my face with my hands. “I think I should stop talking now. I meant to say, I’m happy foryouthat you’re not a virgin.”

He chuckles. This time it’s warm. “Keep talking, sweetheart. Unless you want me to tell you more about my skill set.”

My hands tighten on my purse as a dangerous vision of his tie around my wrists invades my head. The result is an electrical arc between my nipples and my clit.

Pressing my knees together, praying I’m not glowing, I face forward, giving him my profile.

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