Page 18 of Once Upon a Curse for True Love
“It talks.”Andromeda breathed, a smile spreading across her face.“Do you know who killed you?”
The pattern shifted, ones transforming into zeros that flowed downward in an endless stream.
“No,” Donatello translated unnecessarily.“That’s disappointing.”
“But not surprising,” Andromeda replied.She turned to him, vibrating with energy.“Is there something specific you’d like my hands on?”
Donatello’s throat constricted, his mind conjuring several inappropriate places he’dloooveher handson.Did she always talk this way, or had his brain sunk into the gutter because she was around?
He forced his thoughts back to the case.“The desktop station.”He gestured to where two additional computers were positioned against the wall.“We suspect the victim’s consciousness was ‘uploaded’ after he opened a cursed email or program.But we’re having trouble identifying the technology in the curse, and our techs aren’t sure it’s safe to reopen it without risking one of our agents being sucked in.”
Andromeda arched an eyebrow.“But you’re okay with me being sucked up?”
Donatello resisted the urge to pass a hand over his face.“I’m confident you know how to put safeguards in place before anyone gets…” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the phrase.
“Sucked,” she supplied helpfully, and he wasn’t sure if he was imagining the slight emphasis she placed on the word.
Donatello nodded, his jaw tensing as he struggled to maintain his professional demeanor.
In response, Andromeda grinned at him, the expression transforming her face from beautiful to radiant.
“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”
She patted his shoulder like it was a setup.Because with her, it probably was.In fact, the moment her fingers connected with his body, a shock of cold electricity shot through him, racing from the point of contact up his neck and spreading across his scalp.It was as if someone had poured liquid nitrogen on his head.
It wasn’t painful—more similar to the shock of plunging into icy water after a hot sauna.He gaped at her, wondering if she’d experienced a similar sensation.But Andromeda Swan was already sitting in the chair.
She flexed her fingers, cracking her knuckles.“Let’s see what we got here.”
Chapter Eight
Flirting for Dummies
ANDROMEDA
Andromeda’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, a familiar electric anticipation buzzing through her veins.Despite being strong-armed into helping the infuriating detective, she couldn’t deny the thrill sparked by investigating such advanced magi-tech.
Also, the setup SMPD had given her was impressive—a custom-built workstation with dual monitors and processing power that made her rig at home a child’s toy by comparison.
“Is the equipment up to your standards, Miss Swan?”Donatello’s deep voice came from behind her, closer than she expected.
“It’ll do,” she replied, refusing to acknowledge her genuine admiration.“But your firewall protocols are about three updates short.”
She sensed rather than saw his smirk.“We’ll add your feedback to the suggestion box.”
Before she could retort, he pulled up a chair and sat beside her—close enough that his knee brushed against hers under the desk.The contact, no matter how brief, sent an unwelcome tingle up her leg.He smelled like cedar and coffee and something like man-in-his-sexual-prime, a scent that wiped her mental hard drive.Andromeda shifted in her seat, putting a few more inches between them.
“So, where did our techs go wrong?”Donatello leaned in closer to peer at the screen, his shoulder nearly touching hers.
“I’m fast, but give me a second,” she muttered, acutely aware of how close he sat.His forearm rested on the desk next to hers, the sleeve of his dark shirt rolled up to reveal tanned skin and corded muscles.She forced her gaze back to the screen.
Before she got to work, Andromeda gathered her hair, twisting it into a messy bun and securing it with a pencil from the desk.His eyes stood on her for the entire motion.
“You don’t need to breathe down my neck, detective,” she said pointedly.
Donatello didn’t budge.Instead, he leaned back in his chair, stretching his muscly arms above his head before lacing his hands at his nape.The movement pulled his shirt tight across his chest, and Andromeda pretended hard not to notice.
“Consider it tactical supervision,” he replied, his voice smooth as honey but twice as sticky.“Judge’s orders say you work under me.I’m just following the letter of the law.”
