Page 29 of Falling Fast

“I’m a lot more comfortable spending time with my spreadsheets and all the paperwork that comes with an investigation, rather than being out on a date,” she finished.Even if it’s a fake one.

Though there were a lot worse assignments than having to endure dinner out with a trained and ruggedly good-looking guy like Logan.

“It doesn’t show at all,” he deadpanned, somehow managing to keep a straight face. He relaxed his posture, rested both arms on the chair’s armrests, as though he somehow guessed it made her more comfortable when she could see his hands. “Nothing’s gonna happen here tonight, I promise. Might as well relax and enjoy a nice dinner together on the company’s dime, right?” He even smiled at her, a non-threatening, teasing smile meant to put her at ease that she found far more attractive than she wanted to.

She returned the smile, even though it was a little forced. Her cheeks flushed slightly, partly from self-consciousness, and partly because she felt so damn awkward. She’d never been out with a man like Logan. “Sure.”

He nodded and settled back into his chair, his sharp gaze sweeping casually over the restaurant. It was fascinating to watch him take everything in, see him catalogue things that most people missed. No doubt he knew exactly how many tables were in the room, where all the exits were. And for sure he would always keep sight of Baker, even when he wasn’t looking directly at the man.

Those blue-green eyes came back to her a moment later, taking her by surprise. “So, Taylor. You’re from Houston, right?”

She hastily swallowed her mouthful of salad. She wasn’t such a dork that she couldn’t make polite conversation. For a little while. “Yes. You?”

“Maine.”

“Ah.”

He cocked his head. “Ah, what?”

She flushed harder. “Nothing,” she said, waving a hand. Okay, maybe she was a dork.

“No, what?”

It probably sounded stupid to him. “I just…you remind me a bit of a lumberjack. So being from Maine fits my image of you, that’s all.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “A lumberjack, huh? Not a cowboy or a Scottish highlander? That’s disappointing. But yeah, I’ve spent some time swinging an axe back home, so I guess that’s accurate.”

Oh, hell. Unbidden, an image of him popped into her mind: shirtless, standing outside a cabin in the woods while he slammed an axe down on the end of a log, the muscles now hidden beneath the snug fit of his dress shirt revealed in all their sweat-slicked glory.

She grabbed for her water glass, nearly knocked it over in her haste to gulp down a sip and wet her suddenly dry throat. How the hell freaking long was this dinner going to take, anyway?

Taylor mentally scowled as she drained the rest of her water. Why had she agreed to do this? She had spreadsheets to get back to and numbers to crunch, alone back in her hotel room, where she’d be comfortable.

Spreadsheets never made her feel stupid or awkward. And numbers didn’t lie or try to deceive the way people did. When she was with her paperwork, she was in her element.

Paperworkunderstood.

But there was no reprieve in the near future. Stuck in this hoity-toity restaurant with the hot and rugged man across from her, she was about as far out of her element as a woman could get.

****

Dean kept his hand on the small of Charlie’s back as he walked her to the front door of the restaurant. Her beefcake pseudo-bodyguard followed, his expression bored. But he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all Dean.

There was definitely something going on between James and Charlie. Maybe they hadn’t acted on it yet, or maybe one or both of them hadn’t even acknowledged it, but there was definitely an attraction between them.

It only made Dean want to take Charlie from him more.

He had money. Lots of money. He could show her and give her things James never could on a personal trainer’s salary. According to the guy keeping tabs on James for him, James wasn’t even that successful. Barely had any clients.

What the hell Charlie saw in him besides a lot of muscle, Dean didn’t know. And if the idiot was too stupid to make a move on her, it was his own fault if Dean took her out from under his nose.

He collected her coat from the restaurant employee, helped her shrug it on, the scent of leather mixing pleasantly with her light, slightly exotic perfume. Dinner had gone well, and she seemed as intelligent as he’d hoped. He’d have to move carefully with this one. She was just wary enough to pose a challenge.

And Dean loved the thrill of the hunt, especially when the prize came wrapped in such a delectable female body.

All throughout dinner he’d fantasized about the various things that could happen when he got her alone in his office. His favorite was of him sprawled in the leather chair behind his desk while she knelt in front of him, unzipped his pants and sucked him off right there. Blood rushed to his groin, excitement leaping inside him.

“Thank you,” she murmured, and carefully stepped away out of reach. Cool, guarded.

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