Page 28 of Deadly Attraction
She hadn’t hit the eye, but she’d nailed the can, and that was what mattered. He smiled back, liking the bubble of delight enveloping her face as she laughed. “You doubt my coaching skills?”
“You’re a fine teacher, Agent Holden.”
Oh, the things he wanted to teach her. “A teacher is only as good as his student.”
She stepped toward him, still smiling. “Did you learn that in agent school?”
The teasing was heavy in her tone. No one had teased him in a long time, and she was good at it. Initially, he’d found it annoying, but now…
Still, he took a step back, needing space to keep him from grabbing her and kissing her. “Actually, I learned it from a superior.”
“Victor?”
“Cooper Harris.”
She took another step toward him and he suddenly felt like a mouse being preyed on by a cat. “Sounds like quite a guy.”
He stood his ground this time. “He is.”
Her gaze traveled over his face. She licked her bottom lip and the sweet, hot flare of desire shot to his groin. “Any other tips you want to share with me?”
He could think of a few. Or a hundred. All of them involving her with fewer clothes on. “Practice, practice, practice.”
Shehmmedon a smiling sigh. “I think it’s your turn, isn’t it?”
Silence hung in the air between them. God, he wanted to kiss her. Wanted to back her up against one of these ancient pines while he kissed that coy smile off her face. His body ached to find relief in her steady comfort. Her patience.
Even her teasing.
As she stood before him, waiting, totally open with no hidden agenda that he could detect, and every one of her nonverbal cues giving him a green light, he still hesitated. This was a job, not a quickie in the woods with a woman he could walk away from when they were both satisfied. He was here to protect her and instead, here he was, completely distracted by her.
Her life depended on him; that’s why he was here.
The sharp knife of guilt, always mixed with his inexplicable grief, stole his breath for a moment. Mac had needed him, too. Had been depending on him to keep him safe, alive.
His brother was dead because of him.
Clenching his jaw, Mitch looked away from Emma. His attention snagged on the cans, then flitted to the trees, back at the horses.
“Um,” she said, suddenly uncertain, “go ahead. I’ll get out of your way.”
The smile fell off her face and she moved several feet back, checking her gun and ignoring him.
Shit. Now he’d done it.
But what could he say? What could he do?
Certainly not kiss her.
Taking his Glock from its holster, he strode across the pine needles, took his stance, and aimed.
His neck and shoulders muscles knotted.Too tight to be shooting. He needed to relax.
Couldn’t.
Breathe, goddammit. Breathe.
He blanked his mind, imagining the bastard who’d dropped the bomb that killed his brother standing before him instead of the cans.
