Too Hard to Handle (Black Knights Inc. #8)(28)

He leaned in and his voice was a bare whisper. “The stickers that look like electrodes are actually high-powered contact microphones.” His breath fanned her cheek. It smelled like spearmint gum, cool and fresh and completely delicious. “They detect vibrations through the walls. Attaching them to digital recorders allows us to record the sound next door. And because they don’t have transmitters or send out signals, they can’t be picked up by traditional bug-detection devices.”

Both of her eyebrows were sitting near her hairline when she pulled back to search his face. In all her years as a Secret Service agent, she’d never heard of such a thing. “Handy,” she mouthed.

He shrugged. But despite his nonchalance, she had to agree with Chelsea’s insistence that he was a good man to have around.

“Now,” he whispered, “I think we were talking about Chels and Zoelner.”

“We were? I don’t remember.” In fact, she didn’t remember much of anything except his nearness. Where was she again? What was her name? All she could focus on was stopping herself from running her finger over the little crescent-moon-shaped scar on the side of his jaw.

One sandy blond eyebrow inched its way up his forehead. His mouth twitched.

She leaned in, inhaling his electric scent. “And besides, I don’t think we should be talking.” She hooked a thumb toward the devices.

“It’s fine.” His voice was deliciously low and growly and just loud enough to be broadcast through the speakers. Then he lowered it further still, until only her ears picked up the sound. “They’re not recording right now. Once he starts talking I’ll hit the record button and we’ll have to zip it. Until then, we just need to keep our voices down so they don’t carry.”

“You are MacGyver,” she mouthed. Then she batted her lashes. “Build me a rocket ship to the moon. Pretty please?”

“And there’s the new, sassy Penni DePaul I’ve been missing,” he whispered.

She leaned in, shivering at his nearness, his heat, and said softly in his ear, “I already told you, sassy Penni DePaul is the old Penny DePaul. Not the new one.”

“Whatever,” he murmured, putting his mouth so near her ear she could feel his lips move. Then he inhaled. Did he just smell me? “I thought I’d lost her at dinner, so I’m happy to see she’s making a return performance. Even if it means she’s currently razzing my raisins.”

If she wasn’t mistaken, he’d just taken a step to close that uncomfortable, emotional Grand Canyon between them. The relief she felt had her leaning into him until they were shoulder to shoulder. His body was a fortress beside her, big and solid and imposing. She wanted to crawl inside him and let him protect her from all the things she was afraid of, from all the things she needed to tell him but couldn’t. Which was silly and not at all like the bold, gutsy woman she’d always prided herself on being, but there you have it.

And speaking of the things she needed to tell him, speaking of being bold and gutsy, it was time to explain what had happened downstairs. She blew out a silent breath and turned to pull his ear down to her mouth. Since she was all legs, when they were sitting side by side, he was much taller than she was. “I want to talk about what happened at dinner and apologize for—”

He pulled back and put a finger over her lips. It was warm and callused and had her heart fluttering against her rib cage. “Shh,” he mouthed. His words were barely a whisper when he said, “If you’re gonna say you’re sorry for being appalled that I—”

She grabbed his wrist—Christ, his skin was hot—and removed his finger from her lips. “I wasn’t appalled,” she assured him, raising her voice, not caring that the devices picked up the sound, because this was something she needed him to understand. “Not at all. I don’t judge you or think less of you because you fight the battle with booze. Hell, my favorite uncle is a recovering alcoholic. I know what it takes for a man to dance with the devil every day and still come out the victor.”

He smiled then. It was a little sad. A little ashamed. She wanted to kiss it right off his lips. “Dance with the devil,” he mused. “Never heard it put that way, but I guess that pretty much sums it up.”

She searched his face, trying to think of what else she could say to convince him she wasn’t put off by his alcoholism. But then he lifted his hand and ran a finger over her cheek. It was a delicate caress, not meant to be incendiary. Just the same, fire erupted across her skin. And whatever words she’d been forming slipped to the back of her throat when he whispered so quietly, “Brooklyn…”

Her breath caught at the sound of the nickname he’d given her. Her heart skipped one beat. Then another. The whole world condensed down to this one room. This one man.

“Can I—” He hesitated and she wanted to cry out, What? What? Can you what? She’d grant him anything. Everything. Finally, he finished with, “Can I kiss you?”

She closed her eyes. She suddenly felt dizzy. Okay, so screw the mission. “I thought you’d never ask.”

*

Penni’s words—those sweet, irresistible words—had Dan releasing all the pent-up air in his lungs in one long, silent sigh. And because the truth seemed to be working so well for him today, he decided to offer her one more unassailable fact. “I’ve missed you, Penni.” Because he hadn’t lowered his voice, his whispered words were picked up by the speakers, lending them even more meaning, more emphasis.