A Profiler's Case for Seduction(3)

She took the pen, her eyes filled with surprise. “Oh, goodness, have you been waiting here all this time to give this back to me?” She had a deep, melodic but slightly husky, voice. “You didn’t have to do that. It’s just a cheap pen.”

“You loaned it to me,” he said, finally finding his own voice. “I just wanted to return it and thank you.” In truth he wondered if he’d just wanted to see her out here rather than in the dim theater. The overhead sunshine transformed her hair from plain brown to chestnut, with strands of cinnamon and gold sparking bright amid the soft strands.

“You should have stayed for the lecture. Today was really good,” she said as she tucked the pen inside her purse. “When it was announced that Professor Grayson was teaching a class on the sociopath in society, the classes filled up the very first day. But I haven’t seen you in any of her classes or in the lecture hall before.” A faint blush stained her cheeks, as if she suddenly became aware that she was doing all the talking.

“I’m not a student here, but you obviously enjoy Professor Grayson’s lectures.”

“I think she’s brilliant.” There was no question of the hero worship that laced her voice as she spoke of Melinda.

Mark’s brain once again began to work overtime, weighing possibilities and attempting to separate a personal attraction to the woman from his work. “I’m Mark Flynn,” he said. “And you are?”

“Dora. Dora Martin.” She pulled her laptop closer against her chest in a defensive gesture and yet her smile remained open and wide.

“It’s nice to meet you. Are you a local?”

She nodded. “At least for the last three years. I’ve been attending school and I work part-time in the bookstore. I’m studying to become a criminologist.” She raised her chin a notch as if to defy him to question her career choice.

“Actually, I’m an FBI agent,” he replied.

Her eyes widened once again. “So, you’re here about the murders.”

“I’m part of the team working on the case.” He felt his mouth curve into an unaccustomed smile as he realized he’d made up his mind. He needed a source, somebody who was familiar with the campus, somebody who might have inside information on the illustrious professor. Dora Martin might be just what he needed for a little insight into the professor she obviously worshipped.

“I noticed there’s a little coffee shop on campus. Can I buy you a cup of coffee, Dora Martin?” he asked.

She gazed at him for a long moment and once again she pulled her laptop tight against her body, as if forming a barrier between herself and the world...between herself and him.

His breath caught in his chest as he waited for her response, telling himself he could always find somebody else to use for information. Still, he was shocked by how much he wanted her to say yes.

“I only have a little while before I have to get to the bookstore,” she replied with a touch of hesitation. “But a cup of coffee sounds good.”

Mark released his breath and felt a natural smile curl his lips for the first time in a very long time. “Great,” he replied. Despite his instant attraction to her his only goal was to use her for information. Maybe he could glean a little more information on the woman at the center of the mystery and the crimes that had plagued this town. And if Dora couldn’t give him any insight, all that was lost was a few minutes drinking coffee.

* * *

Dora had found herself half-breathless when the tall, dark-haired man had sat next to her in the theater. Handsome and lean, he’d smelled faintly of minty soap and shaving cream. His dark hair had been slightly mussed, as if he had no idea how attractive he was and didn’t much care. Hot. The man was definitely a hottie, but Dora had quickly reminded herself that men were off-limits to her.

When she’d walked outside and seen him, the first thing she’d noticed was how the sun danced in his thick, slightly messy hair and that his brilliant blue eyes held a piercing quality that both drew her in and unsettled her.

He’d shocked her with his offer to buy her a cup of coffee and her initial instinct had been to turn him down, to run as far away from him as possible. No men allowed.

It’s just a cup of coffee, a little voice had whispered in the back of her head as she found herself accepting his offer. Now, as they fell into step side by side, her tongue was tied in knots.

He didn’t seem to mind the silence, as he didn’t offer any conversation to break it as they walked toward the nearby campus coffee shop.