Page 13 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
CHAPTER7
Aloud gasp parts my lips as I dive for the computer mouse. I click anywhere and everywhere on the monitor, praying my manic clicks will stop my personal photos being uploaded to the FBI database. Realizing my excessive clicking isn’t alleviating the situation, I use my hands to cover the flurry of images flicking across the monitor, meaning only tiny portions of my bare skin are on display for the world to see.
“I’m so sorry!” I apologize, mortified.
Except for a rare grin tugging his full lips high, Alex’s expression remains neutral. Brandon’s response isn’t as reserved. I kick him in his shins when he attempts to pry my fingers away from the screen, hoping for a more in-depth preview of my raunchy vacation snaps.
“I had a two-week vacation at Del Mar before I arrived here,” I inform them, giving them any excuse I can as to why there are several photos of me in a very skimpy bikini being uploaded into the FBI’s database.
Darn selfie sticks have made it too easy to get full body-shots when vacationing alone. Although, I do love that bikini. I shouldn’t, though. It took months of grueling workouts for me to feel confident enough to wear a bikini like that.
After a few margaritas and a stern lecture on body image, I slipped into the scraps of material society classes as a bikini. Knowing I’d probably never wear it again, I got a little excited about taking several photos from multiple, and what I was hoping at the time, appealing angles.
“It was hot in Del Mar,” I murmur when neither Brandon nor Alex reply to my admission.
A genuine smile morphs onto Alex’s face. Although I despise him and call him several crude and entirely accurate names under my breath multiple times a day, my heart still skips a beat when he smiles.
“That wasn’t the onlyhotthing there.” Brandon playfully tugs on the collar of his shirt.
I try to hide my gratitude at his compliment. Only the smallest smile creeps on my face, but it’s enough of a reaction for Brandon to notice.
“No,” I inform him delicately, stealing his chance to ask me on a date for the tenth time the past two weeks.
“Who said I was going to ask you out?”
Arching my brow, I glare into his hazel eyes that are a little greener today than usual. His composure remains calm for all of two seconds before the biggest smile stretches across his face.
“One date won’t kill you.” He once again tries to pry my fingers from the computer monitor.
Brandon is cute, but our personalities are too similar for us to become a couple. I don’t agree with the whole opposites-attract notion, but I do believe your partner should bring qualities to a relationship you don’t already have. If you like sweet foods, they should like sour. If you’re a live-your-life-on-the-edge-of-your-pantstype of person, they should be more reserved and prefer taking their time to consider their options. That way, over time, you eventually get a perfectly balanced relationship.
Well, that has been my logic. I could be wrong since my theory has yet to be proven, considering I’m single and living with an old flame of my uncle and her two cats.Oh God.I’m going to become one of those crazy, dressing-gown-wearing, chain-smoking, hair-a-ratted-mess cat ladies.
“Our next weekend off, we should go out,” I suggest to Brandon.
Brandon’s glowing eyes dart to mine.
“Only as friends, though. And just drinks… no dinner or movies, just drinks.”
When he nods, a stern cough demands the attention of my eyes. Alex has his brows furrowed, and his lips have thinned. His whole stance is projecting uncontrolled anger, and I could be mistaken, but a smidge of jealousy.
“If you have time to organize dates, I need to increase your workload.” His blue eyes shoot daggers at Brandon.
Yep, he is definitely jealous.His unexpected jealousy makes me wonder if he is a treat-them-mean- to-keep-them-keentype of guy.
“Sorry,” Brandon mumbles under his breath.
Hesitantly, I remove my hands from the computer monitor. Relief washes over me when I notice my bikini photos are no longer flicking across the screen.Barely breathing, I scroll down to the photo of Isaac’s companion I captured this morning. An impressive groan vibrates Alex’s lips at the same time a pang of remorse stabs my chest.
“Run facial recognition,” requests Alex, slapping Brandon on the shoulder three times.
Brandon nudges me with his elbow. When I move away from my desk, he pulls a black swivel chair in close and runs his fingers over the keyboard. I turn my reluctant gaze to Alex, hoping some commendation will lessen the guilt I’m feeling for spying on Isaac.
Alex’s eyes scan my face, but not a word seeps from his lips. My shoulders slump and a sigh spills from my mouth.
You’re just doing your job, Isabelle,I silently justify, hoping to ease my remorse.
Dropping my gaze back to the computer monitor, I watch as the facial recognition software scans potential matches for Isaac’s companion. Alex shifts in close to me. He’s so near I can smell what he had for breakfast. I never picked Alex as a blueberry-pancake-with-maple-syrup type of guy, but there’s no denying that aroma—sweet and sickly at the same time.
