Page 16 of Deadly Attraction
She headed for the door, the dogs torn between following her and staying with the bacon. “He did not.”
Mitch reached for his phone and realized it was still on the desk. “Shit, he’s going to kill me.”
She turned back. “For what, falling asleep? Being human?”
His morning hard-on was painfully thick between his legs as he hustled to the desk. Trading the plate for his phone, he saw he’d missed two calls and three texts. “For not answering my goddamn phone.”
“I spoke to Victor shortly after I shut off your watch alarm. He’s joined the taskforce searching for Chris. I assured him I was safe here at the ranch with you and Will. He doesn’t like it, but he knows better than to argue with me.”
She winked and marched out. The dogs took one last look at Mitch and his bacon, and followed.
Victor Dupé knew better than to argue with her?
Mitch shook his head, grabbed a strip of crisp bacon and stood for a moment chewing it. His head was still clouded with a dream, one that included Emma and his motorcycle.
Total fantasy. She was a ball buster and he had no time for that kind of woman in his life, even if it was just sex.
But he sure as hell wasn’t happy about spending more time with her.
Except in his dreams. If those pretty lips of hers ended up on certain parts of his body in the safety of his dreams, so be it. Since Mac’s death, he’d had a hard time sleeping at all, and when hedidfall asleep, he usually ended up suffering horrible nightmares. To dream about a sexy woman doing him on his bike was a welcome reprieve.
The bacon was cooked to perfection, and suddenly Mitch was starving. Snatching up a second piece, he hit the head, washed up, and ignored the clean clothes. One way or another, he’d be out of here by sunset. He’d get back to his hotel room and take a nice, long, hot shower. Then he’d get to work on nailing Sean Gordon’s ass to the wall. Hopefully, he could take a few of the man’s brothers-in-arms down with him.
Seeing the clothes Collin’s had laid out for him gave Mitch pause. Well-worn men’s jeans and a flannel shirt not much different from the one she wore. He fingered the shirt, wondered about the man who might have worn it. A brother? A lover?
A husband?
Emma hadn’t been wearing a ring. There were no pictures of her with anyone else. He didn’t have a file on her. No background at all, except what she’d told him and the mentions on the internet about her in conjunction with Goodsman’s trial.
Who was this woman? Independent, not afraid of a killer on the loose, and one who went toe-to-toe with an FBI God and didn’t even flinch.
She profiled criminals, treated them, and recommended their incarceration or release. She raised horses, saved dogs, and provided therapy to juvenile delinquents.
Taking his plate, he went downstairs.
Emma looked up from her place at the kitchen table, a pair of reading glasses on the end of her nose. A file was spread out on the table in front of her.
Sun shone through the window and the smell of bacon and coffee filled the air. The toaster snapped and two pieces of lightly browned bread popped up.
“Toast?” Emma shuffled her papers together and laid her glasses on top of them. She crossed the room to the counter and started buttering. “There’s plenty more bacon if you’d like.”
“Where are the dogs?”
“Running around the ranch like they do every morning. Why?”
“You let me sleep in, and you let the dogs leave you. Still not taking your safety seriously, are you?”
She stopped buttering long enough to open the drawer next to her hip and flashed a Smith & Wesson peashooter at him. “There’s a .380 Beretta taped to the underside of the kitchen table. I like the revolver best so I keep it handy.”
She grinned like the Cheshire cat and went back to buttering the toast.
Mitch helped himself to the bacon piled on a plate near the stove and snagged some coffee. It pained him to admit his shortcomings, but he owed her some gratitude. “Thanks for helping me out with Director Dupé.”
She gave him that noncommittal smile and kept buttering.
None of my business, and yet, he needed to know. “So you and Victor…?”
He let the question hang.
