Straight Flushed (Hot Pursuit #1)(20)

I checked my phone once more to confirm its silence and put on my white, eyelet cotton dress. I stepped out onto the second story balcony off my bedroom and stared at the horizon. I drank the rest of my wine and decided I’d go for a walk on the beach like I had the night before. Stephen was an itch I could potentially scratch again, and I wanted to see if fate would be on my side.

I walked, this time wearing flip flops, toward the wooden walkway. I would still make sure to watch where I stepped once I was over the bridge. As I looked down the shore, my heart leapt. A masculine figure approached me in tan linen shorts and a cornflower blue shirt—it was Stephen. As he came closer, his eyes roamed my body from top to bottom. I put my hands in my pockets and watched him watching me. Was it possible he was taller and more handsome than he’d been the night before?

He continued toward me, exuding confidence from his exquisitely proportioned body, the fabric of his shirt straining over his muscular arms.

“Hey,” I said, smiling. “What brings you around?”

“You, of course.” His lips parted in a dazzling display of straight white teeth which contrasted nicely against his sun-kissed skin. The tip of his nose was pink and slightly sunburned giving him a cute, boyish innocence. “I know it’s short notice, but I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me?”

I bit the inside of my cheek and let the flesh slip from between my teeth as I smiled. “Sure, that sounds nice.”

“Great,” he said. “There’s this little seafood place down the road. I found a flyer for it at my house. I asked around and people say the menu is good.”

“Sounds perfect.” The thought of have a balanced full meal with salad, soup, and dessert made my mouth water. A girl can only survive on wine, Cheetos, and chocolate for so long.

As we walked down to his place, he took my hand. In front of his peach, stucco house we approached his car—a new Passat with temporary license plates. He opened the passenger door for me, and I slid in. Stacks of boxes and clothes littered the back seat.

When he got behind the wheel, he glanced back over his shoulder and looked around. “Sorry about the mess in back. I feel like I’ve been living in my car lately.” He laughed in such a way his confidence seemed to momentarily fade.

“Oh, that’s okay.” I shrugged.

He turned the engine over and checked his mirrors. He hesitated for a moment as words seemed to catch in his throat. “Um, okay,” he said, finally. “Let’s go.”

As we eased into traffic, the energy in the car shifted. His posture hardened—his shoulders were high and his left leg bounced nervously.

First date jitters?

No, it wasn’t quite that.

I watched curiously as his grip tightened on the steering wheel and his knuckles turned white. My skin began to tingle, and I stiffened while I scanned my surroundings. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of something on the floor behind his seat. It was black and had a familiar bumpy texture. Tucked under a manila folder was a gun.





Six



“Is everything all right?” I asked, studying Stephen.

His knuckles grew whiter on the steering wheel, and as we drove down the road, he constantly checked the rear view mirror.

“Of course it is,” Stephen said through a nervous laugh. “I probably should have cleaned my car. I’m a little embarrassed. I was impulsive I guess and wanted to make sure another man didn’t come snatch you up before I got my chance.” He was smiling, but it lacked the light air of humor.

A voice of warning whispered in my head. “Is that a gun on the floor back there?” As I asked the question, I kept my eye on the object I still couldn’t get a clear look at thanks to the manila folder covering it.

His head snapped my way, but he quickly righted his gaze frontward. “Where?”

“Behind your seat.” I watched his every move.

He gave the road a narrowed glance before reaching behind his seat. I stopped his arm with an iron grip.

“Whoa! It’s cool,” he said.

I slowly released my hold and watched him blindly bump the folder off a pair of binoculars. He grabbed them, wiggled them slightly then deposited them on his lap.

I exhaled and bowed my head, laughing. “Sorry.”

He chuckled. “It’s okay. Really. They’re binoculars. I’ll admit to being a total guy sometimes. I’d say these are for looking at sailboats in the water but I’d be lying.” He smiled crookedly, and the tip of his ears turned red.

“Right.” I laughed my embarrassment away. I chewed on my bottom lip. “So, are you on the road a lot with work then?”

He took a deep breath and released it. His shoulders sagged slightly as he relaxed. “Not normally, but lately I have been.”

I crossed my hands over my lap. “What do you do?”

His left leg began to bounce again. “I’m a Securities Integrity Analyst with the SEC.”

Whatever it meant, he sounded like a smart guy. “So, do you watch the stock market all day or something?”

He grinned. “In a way. I’m kind of like the Internal Affairs for the Stock Market. I’m usually the guy behind the scenes no one hears about. I make sure everyone keeps their noses clean.” He punched a button on his steering wheel and changed the radio station. Peter Frampton’s “Baby, I Love Your Way” started to play. “What do you do?”