Asking for Trouble (Line of Duty #4)(33)

Hayden picked up a picture frame and scrutinized it. “This must be your sister.”

Her voice hit him below the belt. “How can you tell?”

She set the picture of Lucy in her high school graduation gown back down. “She looks like she can’t wait to make somebody’s life hell.”

A booming laugh escaped him. “That’s pretty accurate. She’s coming back to New York this summer she finishes grad-school, so you’ll find out for yourself.”

“Will I?” Something close to longing crossed Hayden’s face and he frowned. Again, the feeling that he’d missed a vital piece of the puzzle assailed him. Of course she would have the chance to meet Lucy. No matter what happened between them, they would always have contact with each other. Right? Their group of friends was close. They clicked. Even the constant bickering between them had fast turned into a comfort. Hell, something he looked forward to.

“Yeah.” His voice was firm. “You will.”

Mouth tight, Hayden nodded. “Great. I look forward to it.”

He felt compelled to cross the living room, stand next to her at his fireplace mantel. A wave of her hair shielded her face, frustrating him. What would it take to get a decent look at her face? “Listen, Hayden. The other night…I’m sorry about how it ended. I don’t want you to think—”

“Two apologies in one week.” Her gaze strayed to his, then drifted away much too quickly. “Are you going soft on me, Flo?”

Oh, screw it. Why did she have to smell so damn good? He moved in close, let his hand drift over her hip. Squeeze a little harder than he should allow himself. “I’m never soft around you, duchess.”

She reacted like she’d been burned, but quickly recovered. “If you’re waiting for an apology, keep waiting. That’s your department, not mine.”

“You’d rather go back to fighting? To the constant insults?”

“Yes.” Her eyes squeezed shut. When they reopened, he couldn’t find Hayden anywhere in the brown depths. The absence of her fire, her fight, kicked him square in the stomach. “That’s us, Brent. That’s what we do.”

Brent shook his head emphatically and started to respond when the kids scampered back into the living room. He watched Hayden’s surprised reaction when the girls grabbed her hands and dragged her toward the backyard. She looked as though she wanted to inform them they were making a mistake. That perhaps they’d grabbed on to the wrong adult, but ultimately she had no choice but to follow.

“Come on! Story and Daniel are turning into zombies and we have to fight them.”

Hayden paused. “Ooh. I didn’t exactly wear my zombie fighting shoes today.” The girls stared down at her feet in disappointment. “Um. So I guess I’ll have to take them off?”

“Yay!”

As she was dragged through the back of his house, he heard her say, “You know, zombies don’t even eat children. You’re way too bony. Terrible for their fragile digestive tract.”

Giggles. “You’re funny.”

“Oh, yeah? Huh.”

Trying and failing to ignore the odd pang in his stomach, Brent followed them. He stopped just inside the screen door to watch Story and Daniel chase the girls around his yard, Hayden warding them off with a broom handle. He couldn’t afford to have this Hayden thrown into the mix as well. One who humored his nieces. It only served to confuse him more.

Better to keep his mind focused on the thing between them that not even she could deny, because he and Hayden weren’t finished. Not by a long shot.

The sooner she realized he wasn’t fading silently into the night, the better.





Chapter Eleven


Hayden flung her leather travel case onto the hotel room bed and went to stand in front of the air conditioner. Her skin felt flushed, feverish. The two-hour ride from New York to Atlantic City had been absolute hell. Brent had crowded her in the backseat of Daniel’s car with his gigantic body, pressing his arm or thigh against her at every opportunity. She’d made a valiant attempt to ignore his interested perusal by staring out the window. Then the whispering had started. After that, her temperature had steadily risen until she felt like a whistling teakettle.

Sure, it had started innocent enough. For Brent. You look sexy as hell in that dress. You smell f*cking amazing. But when she’d continued to patently ignore him, the rough whispers near her ear went from PG to NC-17 before she could blink. Duchess, tug the top of that dress down just a little. Just enough that I can sit here and imagine sucking your nipples. Then there was the one accompanied by his hand squeezing the front of his jeans. Sit on my lap, baby. I just need your weight right here. Or the one that had nearly melted her into the seat. If I slipped my hand under your dress right now, no one would know but us. Think you could stay quiet long enough to come?

When Daniel finally pulled up outside the Borgata hotel and casino, she’d practically dived from the still-rolling vehicle to escape Brent, ignoring the deep chuckle behind her. Oh, but it hadn’t ended there. Fortunately, the check-in line had been short. Unfortunately, her room and Brent’s room were separated only by an adjoining door. It never occurred to her, in a hotel this size, that such a coincidence was possible, so she’d made it all the way to her room, Brent one step behind her, before realizing it. He’d whistled as he unlocked his door, sending her a sly wink as the door slowly closed.