Page 2 of Deadly Secrets
Again.
She might have a use for that paperweight after all.
For six months, he’d been calling and emailing her, wanting to “talk shop.” Last month, on a panel about domestic religious terrorism, she’d switched their seating arrangements so she was at the opposite end of the long table the panel sat at. It hadn’t stopped him from openly seeking her out during the social event later that night and flirting with her. He’d told her he wanted her to consult for his taskforce.
He certainly couldn’t be interested in her as a woman—a man like Roman Walsh dated models and actresses, not frumpy workaholic analysts who loved dank old libraries, dig sites, and hundred-year-old churches. But there was something beneath his invitation—both the verbal and nonverbal. She just couldn’t put her finger on it.
Why do you keep turning him down?the devil on her shoulder complained.Why don’t you give him a chance?
From across the way, his attention returned to his friends and she saw him flip one of his thumbs over his shoulder in her direction. The other men in the group looked over at her, two sets of hard eyes sizing her up.
Brooke quickly refocused on the comedian on stage, heat lacing up her neck.
I’ve got to get out of here.
This was why she’d refused to answer his emails or sit next to him on a panel. Working with his West Coast Domestic Terrorism Taskforce might be right up her alley; the experts on his team were top of the line. They analyzed bad guys and figured out ways to put criminals in jail and save US citizens, just like the SCVC Taskforce.
Unfortunately, there was no way in Hades she could be on his team. He made her a nervous wreck. His voice alone made her panties wet, not to mention that killer smile of his.
No man should be that mouthwateringly gorgeous. No man should be that…perfect.
Perfect men like Roman Walsh didn’t flirt with women like her. She was a good girl, a professional academic who buried her head in ancient civilizations and religious rituals. Outside of her brief brush with fame over her book, she was a nobody.
Roman Walsh was a hero. High IQ, a body ancient Greeks would envy, and an arrest rate of criminals that wowed her.If he knew how to handle a trowel, I might actually ask for his autograph.
Behind that sexy smile and Superman complex, however, there had to be a volcano full of secrets. One that would erupt all over her and leave her heart fossilized.
And that was what scared her right down to her toes.
There weren’t many men in her fields of study that actually made her drool. Most were older, balding, or at the very least, too pompous for her to tolerate. There were plenty of young, attractive co-eds who hit on her every time she visited a campus, but at thirty, she wasn’t interested in stroking their egos by playing the cougar. With three failed relationships under her belt, she might just be done with men altogether.
Plus, she liked a man to be more than his looks, and while a few of the grad students who’d hit on her recently certainly had the brains, they were still a bit too young and idealistic for her taste. They believed they could save the world through studying about it.
Roman, on the other hand, was actually doing just that. He seemed determined to protect his country and her citizens with every breath he took.
A real, honest-to-God hero.
Just notmyhero.
Because every time she even thought of saying something to him—her throat completely locked up. His intense blue eyes would lock on her and bam…it was like she’d been hit with a stun gun.
Her, a highly-educated, award-winning anthropologist and published author, who regularly spoke to auditoriums filled with students across the US, as well as to fellow anthropologists and religious leaders, struck dumb by a man?
Go figure.
It just made no sense that she couldn’t handle a simple conversation with Dr. Walsh.
But there it was. She was too wise, and had been through too much in her life, not to at least be honest with herself.
Drool-worthy or not, men with secrets were a no-go. Her life had already been turned upside down by them and she wasn’t about to offer her heart up to another person who would betray her.
A fresh roar of laughter went up from Roman and his pals. She told herself not to look, but the devil on her shoulder made her turn anyway.
He was eyeing her again with a fiendish look on his face. Was he drunk?
Her phone lit up, a text letting her know that a cab was on the way.Estimated pickup time: five minutes.
Good. She needed out of this place and fast. It had become entirely too hot in here.
