Asking for Trouble (Line of Duty #4)(9)

“Hayden, look at me,” he ordered, dragging her attention back to him. He lost his train of thought for a second when she turned to him, all swollen lips, messy hair, and passion-glazed eyes. She looked like a completely different girl from the one he’d walked in with. A fleeting thought swam through his mind. This girl is twice as dangerous as smart-mouthed, uptight Hayden. He shook his head quickly to clear it. “I don’t give a good goddamn who is on the other side of that door. I’m in pain, woman. Fix it.”

The hand still resting on his thigh tightened as if to soothe. She moved in toward him, gaze fixed on his mouth. Yes, yes, yes. Please. Just a little closer.

“Hayden?”

She froze. “Oh, freaking shitballs, it’s my mother.”

Handcuffed and with a hard-on to cut steel, Brent almost, almost, started to cry. Game, set, match. Nothing killed a woman’s mood like her mother. His theory was proven two seconds later when Hayden stumbled to her feet and danced around as though looking for somewhere to hide him.

“Good luck finding somewhere to stuff my six-foot-five ass.”

“Keep your voice down! And I can think of a few things I’d like to stuff in your ass.” Wringing her hands, she shook her head. “That came out wrong. You know what I meant.”

“Sure I do. You’ve got a fetish. I totally get it.” He nodded toward the door and gave a quick chuckle to hide his arousal avalanche. After all, she was, for all intents and purposes, prancing around in front of him naked, no bra, no panties, skirt hiked up to her waist. Kill me now. “What’s the play, duchess? You going to introduce me?”

Knock, knock. “Hayden! Are you in there?”

Tentatively, she walked toward the door, pulling her skirt back down to her knees as she went. Unmanly tears threatened once more as he watched her beautifully shaped ass disappear from view. I’ll never forget you, ass. Don’t forget to write.

“H-hey, Mom. I’m here.”

A pause. “So then open the door, Hayden. I’m standing out here like a ninny.”

“I, uh, can’t open the door. I have the flu.” She coughed. “I don’t want to give it to you.” Brent rolled his eyes and she flipped him the bird without even turning around.

“The flu! But we have that dinner party tomorrow night at Stuart Nevin’s house. We told him weeks ago you’d be attending. He’s looking forward to seeing you again.”

Brent watched Hayden’s posture deflate, her head drop forward against the door with a thud. Obviously she wasn’t looking quite as forward to seeing this Stuart. Who was the guy, anyway? Probably some rich * with a bank account that could sink an oil tanker. He felt a flash of annoyance over having used even an ounce of brainpower to think about Stuart. Or whether or not he’d ever taken Hayden out on a date. Or whether Stuart had ever been treated to Hayden’s Freaktastic Peep Show.

“I think it’s just a twenty-four-hour bug.” Cough. “I should be fine by tomorrow.”

“Drink plenty of fluids and rest. I’ll come by in the morning.” A loud sigh. “I hope this isn’t just another ploy to avoid the poor man, Hayden. He’s very successful, you know. You’re very lucky he’s interested in you.”

Brent’s eyebrows rose at that backhanded insult, but Hayden couldn’t see him. Her spine had stiffened, no doubt mortified over him overhearing this private conversation. He couldn’t blame her. They tended to use every ounce of ammunition at their disposal against each other. She likely assumed this would be no exception. Then and there, Brent decided he wouldn’t use this particular bit of ammo, ever. He didn’t, however, intend to explore the why behind his decision. Only knew that it wouldn’t feel honorable.

“Lucky. Huh.” She smoothed a hand over her hair in a familiar gesture. Right in front of his eyes, he watched her transform back into the ice princess. Her back straightened, she tucked her hair neatly behind her ears and crossed her arms over her breasts. “See you in the morning, Mother. Sleep well.”

“Good night, Hayden. No alcohol tonight. It makes your face puffy.” Hayden didn’t respond as Brent listened to the sound of her mother’s heels clicking down the front steps. She snatched her bra off the ground in front of him and put it on, her motions jerky. Next came the shirt. Bye-bye tatas.

When she’d finished dressing, she pierced him with a look. “What? No comments from the peanut gallery? You’ve gone thirty seconds without shooting your mouth off. It’s got to be some kind of record. Shall I call Guinness?”

Clearly, she needed a fight. Something to take her mind off the conversation with her mother. In his current state, he was all too happy to give it to her. “Maybe you should call a goddamn shrink, instead. You’ve got me handcuffed here with my family jewels hanging out, in case you somehow forgot. And you think you have any grounds to be pissed off? If I recall correctly, one of us had a screaming orgasm and it sure as shit wasn’t me.”

Her face reddened, probably matching his own. Her mother had upset her, then he’d finished the job by completely knocking the wind out her sails. Why he suddenly gave two shits about her mood, he couldn’t decide.

He cleared his throat. “Listen, Hayden—”

She held up a finger to quiet him. “Hold on. I just had an idea.”