Page 42 of Free to Judge
Cough, cough.
Meanwhile, despite juggling all my work—hell, I even made a dent in the backlog—I end the week ahead. I grumble, “So, all I need to do to catch up is fake an illness?”
Or lie to them.With that reminder, guilt surges through my system. “Christ. How the hell does Declan live his life constantly undercover?”
He’s been on my mind every minute I’m not buried in contracts, counter signatures, and conference calls. Truth be told, if I’m honest with myself, I’ve done more than think about him.
Seriously, I’d be terrified about what my internet searches would reveal if it weren’t for that nifty piece of tech my cousin Mike engineered for Hunt Industries and subsequently leases to the DoD he’s had me testing for the last year because as he said, “I know you’ll adhere to the ethics of using it, Kalie. That Harvard Law degree has to come in handy sometime.”
The info I uncovered about Declan’s career with the FBI isn’t just shocking, it’s an earth-shattering bombshell. He wasn’t just a special agent—he was a highly decorated one. After staying up all night reading about some of the higher profile cases he worked on, I’m still reeling from it.
It was an understatement to call me distracted when I wished Grace a safe trip to Bulgaria before she reminded me, “Belgium, not Bulgaria. Home of chocolate, beer, and waffles.”
“Right. Belgium.”
“Is your cold getting worse? Do I need to delay my flight? Call Laura?”
“No!” To distract her from my vehemence, I whined. “I just need to rest.”
She cast me a sidelong glance. “If you say so.”
“Bring me home top tier chocolate. I’ll be just fine.”
Still, nothing but a large glass of wine is going to ease my anxiety about how tonight with Declan is going to go. I gulp a large swallow recalling the news articles I found after Declan left the FBI and his former colleagues accused Declan of succumbing to greed. Of losing his honor. “What utter crap.”
For a moment, I consider if I should let someone know about my impending visitor, before shrewdly guessing, “He’s probably told them he’s coming.”
“I let Jon know when I asked him for your address, yes. Still, next time tell your detail so they don’t walk in and find you dead. Be smarter about what you’re up against.”
Lifting the stemless goblet to my lips, I enjoy the way the wine’s peach flavor shimmers down my throat before turning to find Declan already inside my space. He’s dressed in all black—jeans, button-down, boots. Instead of making him look harsh, the lack of color in what he chose to wear makes his natural coloring pop more dramatically. Even the shoulder holster he sports fails to unsettle me. He’s not the first man to wear one in my presence.
No, it’s his expression that screams “danger” louder than any words, eyes shadowed, jaw clenched like a coiled spring. I tilt my head, scrutinizing him. The desperation in his eyes dredges upfaint memories of my childhood—ways my father would look at my mother with a vulnerability he couldn’t hide.
Not even from me.
What is this man so afraid of? That fleeting thought burns at the forefront of my mind as I offer. “Drink?”
He jerks his chin up. “I wouldn’t mind some of that.”
Carrying my glass with me, I make my way into the kitchen. He calls out, “Smart move, Kalie.”
“What’s that?” I spin around only to find he’s followed me on silent feet despite the heaviness of his footwear. Instead of being in the family room, he’s positioned at my back. He braces his arms on either side of me before leaning into my back.
For just a moment, I close my eyes and pretend this is any first date—giving myself permission to soak up the scent of pine mixed with his natural masculine scent. My lips part when his head ducks down and his nose nuzzles against the knot of hair I have twisted up against the back of my head.
This has to stop before we both cross a line we’re nowhere ready to step close to.
Spinning in the cage of his arms, I press my hand against his chest and push him back a step. His lips form a pout that’s both seductive and boyish at the same time. I want to grin at it but, “It’s far too soon for this, buddy. Try again.”
Declan’s eyes hold a little less weight in them when he jokes, “I was simply about to compliment you on taking your glass with you.”
“And it was a moral imperative to get this close to me to do it?”
Amusement and admiration flash in the depths of his fathomless brown eyes. “That is simply a perk.”
Shoving him back, I reach for the wine and pour him a glass before topping off my own. Gesturing for him to retreat back into the family room, I follow him from a safe distance. What I didn’t expect was that I’d be treated to a delicious view of his rear.Christ. Now, I get why all the bad boys in movies always had all the girls drooling over them.Then a sound of amusement escapes me.Not to mention Uncle Phil.
Once we’re both seated, I ask him questions, to set the tone for the evening. “Would it be easier for you if I just ask questions and you can say yes or no?”
