Page 46 of Deadly Secrets
“I don’t let…”
She swiped a tube of mascara from an end cap.
“You don’t let what?”
A long-suffering sigh. “I don’t let men buy my clothes. Or my deodorant. It’s…weird.”
He took the makeup from her hands and tossed it in the cart. There were many things he suddenly wanted to buy her. None of which were ordinary supplies like flip-flops and shampoo. “This is business.”
As they got in line at the checkout, she picked up a magazine and the paperback from the cart. “Well, these are for pleasure, so I’m buying them.”
Pleasure. The things that word and Brooke stirred up when combined.
He tried to let her go first, but she insisted on paying for her stuff after him. He waited patiently, and since she seemed to want privacy, he pretended to be busy texting as she paid.
“Oh my god,” the checkout girl said, holding up the paperback. “Operation Sheba. I love this story! The Great Conrad Flynn.” She snickered like there was an inside joke. “Con and Julia make such a cool couple. I won’t say anything else so I don’t spoil it for you.”
She winked at Brooke and the good doctor looked like she might melt through the floor. Cheeks flaming bright, she snatched the book from the cashier’s hand and shoved it in her purse, ignoring the magazine she’d been covering the book with. “Keep the change.”
Outside, the summer sun beat on the asphalt parking lot. Roman pressed his lips together to keep from saying anything, but Brooke caught the grin he was trying to suppress anyway.
“Not one word,” she threatened.
He didn’t know whether to be jealous of the fictional hero or flattered that she needed her Flynn fix after spending time with him. “Research, huh?”
“He’s good with a gun. I thought I might pick up some tips to impress you.”
Roman laughed and it felt good. “You’ve already impressed the hell out of me, Doc.”
They were at the car. Brooke faced him as he hit his key fob and unlocked the doors. “I have?”
A mother with twin girls passed by. An aging couple was across from them, the man helping his wife from the car. Roman touched Brooke’s face, tugging a piece of hair off her cheek. “You have.”
She went up on her toes and kissed him, a light, quick kiss on his lips. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For everything.”
He pressed her back against his Jeep, sliding his hand into her hair. Her pulse throbbed at the base of her throat. “I’m the one who should be thanking you.”
“I think you’ve already done quite enough to show me your appreciation.”
He nipped her bottom lip, like he’d been dying to since they were inside. “I’m just getting started, sweetheart.”
Her hands went to his back and she started to pull him in for one of those soul-sucking scorchers. It was wrong, kissing her. Exposing her in the parking lot. Crossing lines he should never cross.
But he did it anyway, shielding her from any prying eyes and letting her kiss him the way she wanted to. It started off soft, expectant, and then she parted her lips and slipped her tongue across his.
He gave her a solid kissing back, making sure she understood that this was no game to him. This was a contract. If she continued to cross that professional line with him, she was going to get everything and more.
A minute later, his phone dinged with an incoming text that brought him back to reality. He was breathing hard and so was Brooke, her lips swollen, eyes at half-mast, and her hair a mess from his fingers.
Gently, he hustled her into the passenger seat, threw the bags in the back. The elderly couple across the way were staring at him. The man gave him a thumbs up before the two teetered off toward the store.
What was wrong with him, taking chances like this?
She made him forget everything—his training, his paranoia, his professionalism. If he wasn’t careful…
