Trust Me (Paris Nights #3)(57)

Lina rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah, right.” Special ops guys, then, he meant.

“That when most other human beings’ heart rates pick up, ours slows down. We respond to dangerous situations by growing calmer.”

Hmm. Lina considered that from all its angles. In familiar stressful situations, she was pretty sure she grew calmer, too. The calm at the center of the storm, when the kitchen was in full swing. It was one of the reasons she was such a good head pastry chef. Even in the attacks, the panic had hit later. After Vi was stabilized and in the hospital. While everything was going to shit, she was surreally sure and firm.

“So what does that mean when your heart rate picks up for me?” she demanded.

Hazel eyes met hers for a long moment. Then he picked up her hand and kissed the inside of her fingers. “That even I can’t be prepared for someone like you.”

A big smile broke out on her face. “You’re getting better at this.”

A raised eyebrow.

“Flirting.”

That lurking amusement in his eyes, that teased her and lured her in so much. “You think I usually pick up women by not knowing how to flirt?”

She considered. “I think if I saw you in a bar, I’d insert myself right beside you to order my drink, strike up a conversation, and do half your flirting for you.”

His smile grew, not so much in the way his lips curved but in that deep warmth in his eyes. He’d actually forgotten about his surroundings, all focused on her again. “You would, would you? Sure you wouldn’t flirt with Ian or Mark or Chase instead?”

“Ian and Chase are too obvious,” she said. “I like you.”

So much warmth in his eyes. He brushed her knuckles back and forth across his lips. “Yeah?”

“And Mark reads Kafka.” She smiled down at him. “Pretty sure a woman can’t trust a man like that. I think I might be more an X-Men type of girl, in terms of geekiness.”

The arm wrapping around her flexed and pulled her down suddenly, his other hand curving around her head to bring her mouth right to his.

A kiss. Sweet and deep and warm, his hand tightening on her skull. Then easing to let her free if she wanted.

“Oh.” She propped on her forearm on his chest, pressing her fingers to her lips. “Oh, and you’re a good kisser.”

He kissed her again at that, longer and hotter, his fingers strong around her head.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” she breathed when she could come up for air. Even as he broke the kiss, his eyes were flicking past her, double-checking that no danger had presented itself in his surroundings while he was lost in that moment. “Maybe we should go back to my place where you can just focus on kissing. I think it’s one of your skills.”

“And I think it’s like flirting,” he said, deep and a little husky. “It’s not a skill, it’s a synergy. With you.”

She ran her fingers over his cheekbones, utterly delighted with the shape of them. “Do you have freckles all over your body?” she whispered.

“Pretty much,” he said wryly.

She bent her head to his ear. “I mean all over?”

He rubbed one finger up and down along her spine, not answering. That little smile lurked around his mouth. “You know, you are terrible at dating. Always rushing the conversation straight to sex.”

He didn’t look very unhappy about it this time, though.

“I can’t help it. It’s you. You make me want to grab you all over and squeeze.”

His hips jerked against hers. Ooh. Nice pressure of his arousal there.

She grinned. “With all my muscles. Like, squeeze with all my muscles everywhere.”

His hips surged again. He caught hers and held her hard to him. “You are a witch. You should be more careful with a poor, war-weary soldier.”

“I only know civilians,” she said promptly.

Good one, that spark of laughter in his eyes said. His fingers shaped her butt. “What about Elias? What if you met him in a bar?”

“Too ironic,” Lina said. “What does he do, practice being French in a mirror?” Jake laughed, and she grinned. “He’d raise that sardonic eyebrow at me one too many times, and I’d have to upend a bowl of chantilly over his head.”

“So I’m special?” Jake’s fingers kneaded into her butt. “Kind of…unique.”

“Yeah.” Lina’s voice quieted. Even her humor quieted, though not her happiness. “Definitely.”

Something about him eased, under her body. He met her eyes for a quiet, alert moment. “Just checking,” he said, and brought them both to their feet, taking her hand.

***

Lina’s guards declared themselves open to a stroll, so they walked the whole way back to her place in the Eleventh, a walk of over an hour. Night fell, that late summer night of Paris, and all the street lamps came on, the evening cool enough for comfort but dry and summery now after all the long, cold rains that had stretched into July this year, as if winter was never going to loosen its grip on the city. They walked the long gracious walk of the promenade that covered the Canal, then cut right into the more winding streets that led up the hill of the Eleventh.

Despite her pride in how well she’d done being out there in the streets, a great sense of safety and relief enveloped her again as soon as she closed her door and locked it. Just her and Jake. Home safe.