Hell or High Water (Deep Six #1)(78)

“You okay?” he asked.

“Of course,” she lied. Again. “My boss, he, uh, he hopes they can fix the issue once they’re here and have the proper tools to work with. Then he wants us to give the package to them. With two engines at full speed, they can make it back to Key West in a few hours. He’s itching to get the package secured as quickly as possible.”

“Makes sense,” Leo agreed, eyes narrowing. He could tell, either by her tone or her expression, that there was more to the story. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His gaze narrowed further, as if he knew it was sign of nervousness.

She quickly dropped her hand. “He wants me to follow the A-Team back to Key West with the crew of the Black Gold. Once we dock, he and I will debrief them, gather the evidence, do the cleanup, and send them on their way to Houston.”

Leo was no dummy, easily catching her use of the singular pronouns. “And me and the guys? What are we supposed to do?”

“He put in a call to Romeo and Doc,” she told him. “After they load up on fuel, they’ll fly the Otter out to pick you up and take you back home.”

For a second he said nothing, just stood there blinking at her. She would swear the air around her dropped ten degrees. Goose bumps peppered her skin. “Just like that, huh?” he finally said. “Thanks, but our services are no longer needed?”

She swallowed, unable to meet the molten heat in his gaze. “It’s not my call, Leo,” she whispered.

“I know that,” he said, then blurted, “I could come with you to Key West. After you finish with everything, we could—”

“I’m needed back in DC,” she interrupted, trying not to wince when yet another lie sliced into her tongue like an old, rusty cutlass. It was one thing to contemplate spending the night wrapped in his strong arms when mutual lust with a nice side of mutual like were the only two things on the menu. But add in a heaping helping of love? Yeah, buddy. That changed everything.

She couldn’t sleep with him now. Give herself to him mind and body, heart and soul. If she did, she’d have to spend the rest of her life knowing what that was like, the glory of it, the absolute wonder of being with the man she loved. Which would make all the long, lonely nights that stretched out in front of her that much more impossible to bear. No. It’s better not to know.

“We still have to find…” She trailed off because there were civilian ears listening in. “There are things we still have to deal with. As you know.”

“And how about after you deal with those things?” he demanded. The man was relentless. Was he going to make her spell it out for him?

“I’m sorry, Leo.” She shook her head, her eyes pleading for him to understand, though she knew he wouldn’t. How could he? He had no idea she’d been bowled over by a grand epiphany. And she sure as shit wasn’t going to tell him. Though, maybe she should. Dropping the L-bomb might guarantee he ran screaming in the opposite direction.

“Yeah,” he sighed, nodding. “I’m sorry too, Olivia.” The frustration and confusion in his voice were palpable.

*

5:59 p.m.…

She liked him.

He knew she liked him.

And, more than that, she was hot for him. There was no mistaking the way her skin flushed when he got close to her, the way her mouth opened eagerly to the press of his tongue, or the way her sweet center went soft and wet when he touched her, licked her. The memories of her smell, her taste, her unabashed release had his blood running hot, heavy. He was hard. Again. Or maybe he’d never stopped being hard.

So why the hell is she willin’ to leave it at that?

He contemplated the answer as the Black Gold’s hot water tank disgorged its contents over the top of his head. When Maddy had suggested he hop in the shower to warm up because “it had to be colder than a witch’s tit down there”—she was cute as a button, a fact Bran seemed to be well aware of—Leo hadn’t wasted a minute taking her up on her offer. He’d needed some time alone. To think. To try to solve the jigsaw puzzle that was Olivia Mortier.

Unfortunately, after washing the expensive, fruity-smelling shampoo from his hair—at least he hoped it was shampoo; the words on the bottle were printed in French so he couldn’t be sure—he was no closer to figuring out the riddle than he’d been before. He wiped a hand across the steam on the shower door, peeking into the well-appointed bathroom with its gray slate tiles and deep mahogany cabinetry. Nope. The clues to what was lurking in Olivia’s head weren’t out there.

Then, as if his unhappy thoughts had conjured her up, her husky voice drifted through the bathroom door. “Leo?” The sound was muffled by the water hitting the tiles at his feet.

“What?” he barked. Then chastised himself for his harsh tone. The woman had a job to do. He couldn’t fault her for that. But he could fault her for not at least trying to make some time for him. And, okay, right, so he’d made it sound like all he wanted from her was a one-night stand, and why would she be willing to put her career on hold for that, no matter how amazing it would undoubtedly be? But, surely, surely she knew there was more to it. Surely she could see it in his eyes every time he looked at her.

“I…uh…I just wanted to check on you,” she called. “Make sure you’re still feeling okay.”