Asking for Trouble (Line of Duty #4)(30)

Even at this time of night, traffic hindered their progress, but they made it to her town house in under ten minutes. He rounded the SUV to open her door and she practically spilled out into his waiting arms. With a sigh, he hooked one forearm under her knees and carried her up the stoop leading to her door. He wouldn’t lie—something about the task, taking care of her, filled him with male pride. “Keys.”

“Hmm. Oh, yeah.” Hayden rummaged clumsily through her purse and handed him the set. “I played darts tonight.” She yawned. “I played darts in Brooklyn.”

Brent blinked down at her. Obviously, in her inebriated state, she’d forgotten to be angry with him. Supporting her against his chest, he unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Yeah? How’d you do?”

“Abysmal.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “Maybe I should have pictured your face. I’d have hit a bull’s-eye for sure.”

“Ha. I thought for a second there you’d forgotten to hate me.”

“Nope. I was just pacing myself.”

He snorted. “Too bad you didn’t have the same idea with the tequila tonight.” Brent carried her to the bedroom and set her down on her feet at the edge of her bed.

“How do you know I drank tequila?”

“There’s a lime stuck to your shoe.”

“No way.” She doubled over at the waist to inspect her high heel and collapsed against him with laughter. He steadier her once more, unable to hide his amusement. Goddamn, she was cute as hell like this. When they went out as a group, she normally relegated herself to a strict four-drink minimum. She looked up at him then, all breathless, eyes dancing with humor, and Brent’s fight-or-flight instinct kicked in. Her gaze had landed on his mouth and in her intoxicated state, she hid nothing. She wet her lips, moved closer with the clear intention of kissing him. The tenderness he’d been feeling was fast dissipating, replaced with pulse-pounding need.

No, you came here to talk to her. Brent swallowed hard and stepped back. “Uh-uh. Not tonight. Not when you’re like this.”

“Like what?” He gave her a look, but it only seemed to make her more determined. “Come on. Isn’t this why you brought me home?”

“No.” She gripped his shirt and pulled him closer. As she rose up on her toes, the tips of her breasts grazed his chest and he groaned. “I’m not doing this, Hayden.” Still, when her lips ghosted over his, then returned to sink into a hot, silky, openmouthed kiss, Brent’s resolve slipped. He traced her lips with his tongue, starving for the taste he’d been craving for days. She felt soft and willing in his arms, enticing him beyond belief. He wanted with every fiber of his being to boost her up onto the bed and ride out the urgent need, remind her who would always take her home and why.

He opened his eyes to look at her, hoping a visual reminder of her current state would bring him to his senses, but when he saw how tightly her eyes were squeezed shut as she kissed him, something twisted in his chest. She looked as though she were savoring him in equal measure, sending his determination into a tailspin. It took her fingers working his belt buckle to snap him back to reality. He broke the kiss and gently held her away from him.

At first, she looked confused, then her cheeks flamed red. Her hands fluttered at her waist, as if she didn’t know what to do with them. Brent cursed under his breath, knowing at the moment she was only capable of seeing this as rejection, when he was really doing it for her. She stumbled a little and he reached out to catch her, but she shoved his hands away. “Get out.”

“Hayden—”

“Just get out.”

He stared at her a moment, wanting to say more, but rationalizing that she might not even remember what he had to say. She wouldn’t want to hear it, either. Having no choice, he turned and left her there, looking stricken. Each step to his car felt more painful than the last.





Chapter Ten


Hayden woke with a scream on Saturday morning when her mattress dipped and shook. She shot up in bed and searched wildly around the dimly lit room for the intruder. I ought to at least be given the courtesy of seeing my murderer’s face before I leave for the sweet hereafter, right? When she saw Story at the foot of her bed, she deflated with relief.

She pushed her sleep-mussed hair out of her face. “What is the meaning of this? Ryan Gosling was about to go full frontal in my dream.” A total lie, by the way. Someone had been about to go full frontal, but it hadn’t been Gosling. Much to her supreme irritation, Brent continued to make appearances in her subconscious no matter how much she tried to banish him from her mind.

“Bah. Dreams never deliver on that kind of thing.” Story eased a hip onto the bed. “He would have pulled down his pants and there would have been a cantaloupe in place of his peen.”

“Hmmm. Either way, its low-hanging fruit.”

“Ooh, funny even before coffee. She’s the total package.”

“Tell it to Gosling.”

“I will.” She waggled her eyebrows. “If he happens to be in Atlantic City this weekend. Which is where we’re going. As in, now! Road trip, motherfu—”

“Get out of my room.” Hayden pointed at the door. “I venture into New Jersey for no man. Or woman. Even you, blondie.”

“I’m not taking no for an answer.” Hayden noticed for the first time that Story was immaculately dressed. Before 9:00 a.m. on a Saturday? Unacceptable. “I miss the ocean. The good weather is going to be gone soon and I’m in the mood for some fun.”