Tempted & Taken (Men of Haven #4)(12)
“I will make my luck.”
His eyebrows hopped high and his lips curled in a sly grin. “You quoting me because you believe it, or to let me know you’ve done your homework?”
“Because I believe it. This isn’t the first time I’ve taken risks, and I doubt it will be the last, but every person has to make their own way. If the path doesn’t exist, it’s up to every individual to make one. You took your love of music and movies and made a niche for yourself. I can do the same.”
“You use my app?”
Her and everyone else eager to find new leads for their playlists or Netflix binges. Lystilizer had originally focused on music only, but had been expanded to include movies a little over a year ago. The algorithm behind it was amazing, evaluating each user’s individual libraries and making spot-on recommendations for new purchases. “I use it all the time.”
“Music or movies?”
“Both.”
“Favorite band.”
That drew her up short. “Can you actually narrow your favorites down to one?”
One corner of his mouth twitched. “Fair enough. How about your top favorites in the last six months?”
“Halsey, Eve to Adam and Chris Stapleton.”
He cocked one eye and crossed his arms across his chest, but his grin was playful. Clearly, he not only loved music, but he was familiar with a broad spectrum of genres. “Alternative, rock and country. That’s a heck of a spread. I’d have pegged you as a top forty girl.”
She shrugged. “I like music that fits my mood. Why limit yourself to only one format when you can explore many?”
“True.” He cocked his head. “So, what about movies?”
For a second, she ducked her head, then remembered who she was talking to and shook off her embarrassment. What difference did it make what he thought of her burning through pop culture lists off IMDb? “The 40 Year Old Virgin and The Princess Bride.”
His smile deepened. “‘Wuv,’” he said, imitating the clergyman near the end of the movie. “‘True wuv.’”
“‘You killed my father!’” she fired back with her own impression of Inigo Montoya. “‘Prepare to die!’”
He laughed loud enough to fill the room, the rich rumble of it soothing away the remnants of her fears. “A classic. I’ll bet I could drop at least twenty-five quotes inside of five minutes. Maybe less.”
“I’m watching Airplane next. Jason says it’s insanely old, but has just as many quotes, if not more.”
His laughter died off slowly, and while none of the suspicious tension she’d picked up on before returned, he studied her through slightly narrowed eyes. As if she were a puzzle he couldn’t quite put together. “How long have you lived in the States?”
Every time someone asked that question all she wanted to do was bolt, but denying her heritage wasn’t an option. She’d long ago accepted her accent was too prominent to eradicate it without serious training, but that didn’t mean she was comfortable opening doors that might lead to more questions.
The tattoo on his forearm drew her attention. Bold and drawn only in black ink, it resembled a tree but with a tribal style and surrounded a rugged H in the center. A mark with purpose, yet nowhere near as sinister as the tattoos she’d become all too familiar with in Russia. Was Knox dangerous? Absolutely. Her instincts with people were seldom wrong and for Knox they insisted he had an intellect not to be trifled with. She’d even uncovered rumors of he and the men he called brothers having ties to criminals. But sitting with him now—watching him and interacting with him—she sensed fairness. Honor and determination paired with an indomitable courage. If she expected him to take a chance on her, he at least deserved the same willingness in return, even if it gave him a lead toward discovering who she really was.
She took a deep breath, straightened her spine and fisted her hands in her lap. “I left Russia about two and a half years ago.”
Chapter Five
Beckett was right. Jeannie Simpson, or whoever she really was, had to be one of the most beautiful women Knox had ever met. And not uptight and untouchably beautiful either. No, JJ’s allure was an intoxicating mix of wide-eyed guilelessness and earthy sensuality. The girl next door and a seductive winter nymph all rolled up into one, complete with white-blonde hair, bright blue eyes and lips a pale watermelon pink. A woman who’d tempt a saint to throw his vows and caution to the wind with no more than a single look.
He was definitely no saint. Not with the string of urges that had queued up the second he’d watched her walk through the front door.
Another bigger observation—she was innocent.
Maybe not from the identity thing, but no way had she offed anyone to claim Jeannie Simpson’s name. What was absolutely certain was she was hiding. She might not have come right out and added that she’d run from her home over two years ago, but the tone behind her confession said plenty. A plea and a request for privacy all at once. And damned if it didn’t make him want to cart her off someplace safe and obliterate whoever forced her to run in the first place.
He motioned with his chin toward her laptop. “So, tell me what programming languages you’ve worked with.”
She let out a relieved sigh and smiled, the sheer gratitude and vulnerability in her expression further cementing her innocence. Folding her hands on top of the table, she leaned in with the same prim and proper interview stance she’d used when she’d first sat down. “Jason said you encouraged him to learn native languages instead of cross-platform development tools, so I focused on Android and iOS separately.”