Page 21 of Knife to the Heart

“Fine.” Even if he said no, Annie would send them up anyway.

Cannon ended the call and turned to the bag. He threw a gloveless right hook and cursed as the impact reverberated down his arm. Who would send Rosalie flowers?

“Don’t care,” he muttered as he alternated between crosses and jabs.

A few minutesand eight sore knuckles later, a knock sounded at his door. Before he could yell, “Come in,” it flew open.

His jaw plummeted at the sight in his doorway. Over the past twenty-four hours, he’d been aroused, intrigued, and infuriated by Special Agent Snow Angel, but this vision reduced him to Dr. Speechless.

He blinked once, twice. Yeah, she was still the stubborn woman he’d met on the mountain, but her smoky eyes, red lips, and shiny hair piled in a mess of feminine curls rocked him with the intensity of an avalanche.

“You changed.” The obvious was all his awestruck brain could conjure.

She eyed his bare torso. “So did you.”

He wiped the sweat from his chest. When she licked her glossy lips, the ability to speak left him again. He’d thought Rosalie in snowboarding gear was hot. Fantasized more than once today about her in a prim black suit teasing him with handcuffs, but that dress... It didn’t matter what she wore though. Intelligence and confidence looked better on her than anything else.

Scanning the area, she stalked past him and dropped the backpack slung over her shoulder onto his desk.

Cannon stepped to the door she’d just sailed through and closed it. Turning to her, his breath hitched as one of the barely-there straps on her shoulder fell past the mark he’d left on her dusky skin. Knowing she hadn’t covered it up made him smile in primal satisfaction. His gaze veered to the column of her neck, down to the swell of her breasts he’d been robbed of sampling last night, and farther south to more of the curves he burned to get his hands on.

Whoever had sent her flowers was a lucky bastard.

She settled one hand on her silk-covered hip. The other hovered near the zipper of her backpack. “The kid in the ER said the security guard is bringing a delivery here for me. Where is it?”

“Wulf, my head of security, is bringing them up in a bit. Who sent you the flowers?”

“I have no idea who would send me something here.”

Liar.

He ducked into the bathroom and grabbed a T-shirt. Pulling it on, hecrossed the room and planted himself in front of her. “You look like an undercover agent in a spy movie. Sexy, bossy, and on edge like you’re anticipating trouble.” He brushed his fingers against her thigh. “Do you have a gun strapped under there?”

Damn, that sounded sexy.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She patted the bag she’d dropped on the desk. “My firearm is in here.”

“If the delivery is nothing, then why did you bring a gun into my hospital?”

“I’m well within the law to carry my weapon if I want to.”

“I’m also well within the law of carrying any one of my five guns, but they stay locked up unless I’m hunting. This is a cyberattack, not a hostage situation.”

“And I told you that handling terrorists on your own is a bad idea.”

He inhaled her cherry scent as she peered around him to his office door. It hadn’t escaped him how she’d quickly positioned herself in view of the entrance and how she’d noted every access to the room. Who was she afraid might come through?

He touched her waist. When she didn’t protest, he slipped his fingers around to her back and found the rough edge of her scar hugging the silky material. “Did one of these terrorists hurt you?”

Stiffening, she brushed past him. “That’s none of your business.”

“I think it is.” Wrangling his unfounded urge to pummel whoever had harmed her, he turned as she peered through the open bathroom door, no doubt checking it for whoever she feared might be there. His heart stopped when he caught sight of the back of her dress.

Or lack of it.

Smooth skin and defined muscle cascaded from her shoulders to the small of her back in strong feminine lines, creating a tempting playground to touch.

Taste.

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