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

Brent held up the bottle so she could see the label. “Nonalcoholic.” He barely contained his laughter when her chin only went up another notch. “I don’t drink during the week.”

“Lucky me,” she said under her breath.

“That would be the plan.”

Hayden’s eyes widened as he tossed her words back in her face, right in front of Matt.

Matt not-so-discreetly checked his watch. “Damn, would you look at the time?” He pushed back his chair, then followed in Daniel and Story’s wake. “Try not to kill each other. I like this place.”

“You ready to call it a night, too?” Brent picked up his fresh beer and winked at Hayden. “Or do you want to keep going?”

“Call it a night?” She tossed her hair back over one shoulder. “We’re only getting started.”





Chapter Two


For the first time in history, she and Brent were alone. Voluntarily, that is. Normally at this stage, they would flee each other’s presence without bothering to make an excuse. Unless you counted a certain obscene gesture as an excuse.

Hayden’s pulse accelerated as Brent rose to his full height and rounded the table to occupy the chair beside her. Why were her palms sweating? They were only playing a game. Any minute now, Brent would give in and she’d be free to strut out of Quincy’s, reveling in her victory. That hot look in his eye, the one that continued to dip and linger on her exposed neckline, was all for show.

Right?

When he draped an arm over the back of her chair and leaned in close, she ignored the flutter in her stomach. It had to be the wine. Brent Mason did not give her flutters. He only gave her hives.

“So tell me,” he started, his voice taking on a deeper tone. “Assuming we didn’t make it to your professionally decorated bedroom, how far would we make it?”

She doused a flare of annoyance. He never let her forget her status, not for a second. Or that she’d done so little to earn it. “Something tells me a man like you can’t hold out long enough to make it past the entryway. Just wham-bam, let me get back to playing Grand Theft Auto, ma’am.”

“I prefer Halo,” Brent said in a tight voice. “And let’s be honest. The real reason you don’t want me in your bed is because I’ll sully your lily-white sheets.”

Okay, that stung a little. It had been a while since her sheets were sullied, but he didn’t know that. His comment proved he thought of her as a cold fish, too focused on appearances to feel anything, sexually or otherwise. Especially for a man without an exorbitant bank account.

No way would she back down now. It would have to be him.

It suddenly became clear how to accomplish that end. A caveman like Brent would need to be the aggressor in bed, no doubt. She would lay odds that he would cling to that macho image with both hands. Hayden almost laughed out loud. He wouldn’t be able to cling on to much of anything with both hands secured behind his back.

She turned in her chair, letting her knee rub along the inside of Brent’s thigh, doing an internal fist-pump when he sucked in a breath. “That’s not it at all, Brent. I just don’t like waiting.” Garnering her courage, she dragged her fingers up the inside of his arm. “You wouldn’t happen to have your handcuffs handy, would you?”

He dragged his heated gaze away from her fingers. “If you like being cuffed, I have no problem accommodating you, baby.”

“Actually,” she returned, drawing the word out, “I was thinking I would cuff you.”

She held her breath. Any minute now, he’d scoff at her request and this charade would be over. Funny, she wasn’t quite as ready to walk away as she had been moments ago. In fact, the thought of Brent’s big body, restrained by handcuffs, was surprisingly appealing. That fluttering in her stomach had graduated into a constant tug, confusing her further.

“Done.” Hayden hid her shock as Brent leaned close and spoke gruffly near her ear. “Be warned, though. If you take away the use of my hands, I’ll only make up for it with my mouth.”

“R-really?” Her voice sounded breathy to her own ears. It simply wasn’t possible that Brent was turning her on. She shouldn’t have drunk so much wine without eating a proper dinner. That was the only explanation for her body’s potent reaction to Brent’s words.

“Why does that surprise you, duchess?” His expression turned patronizing, but she could still see the desire kindling in his eyes, the way they fixated on her mouth. “You think because I don’t wear a suit to work, I haven’t learned how to pleasure a woman?”

A punch of heat reverberated through her system, layered on top of the indignation brought on by his jab. He couldn’t mean it. He didn’t give a damn about her pleasure. No, they were both simply playing the game. When it came time to put the handcuffs on, he would back down. No way would he put himself at his enemy’s mercy. “I guess we’ll find out if you’re capable of shutting up long enough to use your mouth for something worthwhile.”

“Will we?” He gripped her knees in his hands. “You going uncross these sexy thighs long enough to find out what I can do between them?”

As her heart began to pound out of control, it occurred to her that she might lose this battle. Brent didn’t appear any closer to caving, and they were drawing dangerously close to the end of the line. This conversation couldn’t continue in its current vein much longer without them leaving together. Judging from his expression, he still expected her to cry uncle. Clearly skeptical of her ability to follow through.