Page 8 of Art of the Hunt
“Hunter.” Artemis’s movements were smooth, sensual, cat-like. He knew damn well he wasn’t the only one affected by her presence. Well, obviously, considering every officer and detective—male and female—in the vicinity was hovering around her like she was the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
Or a goddess who radiated sexuality.
She waved at the box of donuts like she was Vanna White. “Want one?”
Yes.
“No.” He brushed past her to get to his chair.
Skip, whose desk sat next to Hunter’s, spewed donut crumbs as he helpfully said, “James doesn’t eat anything that’s considered delicious.”
“So the contents of his cupboards would indicate,” Artemis said.
Skip’s brows shot into his hairline, and Hunter nearly groaned. Great. If Skip hadn’t already drawn the erroneous conclusion that they were sleeping together, he would soon.
“What are you doing here?” Hunter asked Artemis.
Picking up the half-empty box of donuts, he dropped it unceremoniously on Skip’s desk, promptly knocking over a cardboard cup full of light brown coffee.
“Shit!” Hunter dove for the cup in a vain attempt to save the paperwork strewn everywhere, and totally missed.
And then when he blinked, the cup was upright, the donuts resting next to it, and there was no pale brown liquid anywhere except right where it was supposed to be. Skip reached down, snagged the cup, and lifted it to his lips.
“What’re you staring at, James?” Skip asked, eyes narrowed.
Hunter shook his head. “Nothing.”
He turned to face his own desk. Artemis had moved to his chair, those forever long and lean legs crossed, her arm draped across her knee, one shoulder jutted, like she was daring him to tell her to move.
“Get up. That’s my seat.”
She didn’t move.
“Do you work here?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
“Huh?”
She gave the bullpen a sweeping glance with her perfect eyebrows arched. “This is where the law enforcement professionals work, yes? So I should work here. However, it’s so…”
She didn’t finish that sentence, and he found himself leaning forward, holding his breath.
“So many men,” she finally said. “And as much as I adore humans, the male species tends to trip all over themselves trying to impress me. Trying to determine how serious I am about my gift of chastity.”
“My female co-workers seem pretty smitten too.”
“Yes, true, although in general, women tend to want tobeme, whereas men want to beinme.”
The woman certainly had confidence coming out her ass, didn’t she? Of course, she had every right to be so damn egocentric, and she was right; every guy within sight was eyeing her as if she were a piece of meat and they all wanted a bite.
Hunter needed to get her the hell out of here.
“James!”
Hunter swung around. He watched the captain approach his desk with a slip of paper in his hand, which he slapped down onto the wooden surface.
“Got a new case for you. Someone stole an ice cream truck. Figure out who.”
