Something About You (FBI/US Attorney #1)(64)

Cameron tried not to laugh as she threw away the empty cartons. She failed miserably. “Sorry. I’m sure it was a very important case. How did you catch the guy?” She started laughing again. “Did you have the suspects drop their pants and do a lineup?”

“Ha, ha,” Jack said, reaching around her to throw away the rest of the garbage. “No, we caught the guy because he got Vaseline on his hands while smearing it on his ass during one of the jobs. He left some fingerprints behind and we found a match—he’d been in jail before for robbing a convenience store.”

“I wish I could’ve seen you making that arrest,” Cameron said, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of her wine.

“It was the highlight of my career,” Jack said dryly, putting the leftovers she’d dished into Tupperware in the refrigerator. He shut the door and saw her watching him with a sudden serious expression.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I have something to tell you,” she said. “About what happened three years ago. . . I’m not the one who had you transferred to Nebraska.”

Jack ran his hand over his mouth as this sank in.

“Talk.”

Twenty-one

JACK PACED THE room while she talked.

Cameron began first with the Martino case, thinking she might as well start at the beginning. She told him about Silas’s decision not to prosecute, and his directive that she not speak to the FBI, or anyone, about his decision.

“I was new to the office back then—I didn’t want to rock the boat,” she said. “Things would be a lot different if he and I had that conversation now.”

Then she told him everything else: Silas’s attempts to get him fired, her contact at the DOJ, her meeting with Davis to fill him in on the situation, even her response to Davis when he’d asked why she wanted to help out Jack.

“Your transfer to Nebraska wasn’t a great result, I realize, but it was better than being dismissed from service entirely,” she said. “It was the best I could do under the circumstances.”

When she’d finished, Jack said nothing. A moment passed and . . .

He still said nothing.

Then he fixed his gaze on her and stalked across the room.

Cameron braced herself. With that kind of look in his eyes, he was either going to kill her or—

He kissed her. Hot, demanding sweeps of his tongue against hers. When he dragged his mouth away they were both out of breath.

“Why didn’t you tell me this three years ago, before I left?” he asked.

“You told thirty million people I had my head up my ass. Funny how that turns a girl off from having any meaningful conversation.”

He smiled. “True. So where does that leave us now?” As if she had a clue. “I guess we should probably talk about the rules of our situation here. You living in this house. With me.”

Jack pulled back. “Right. Boundaries. Good idea.” He ran his hand through his hair and stood against the counter next to her. He exhaled raggedly and looked over. “I think the first thing we need to talk about is you not running around in tight T-shirts and yoga pants.”

“Fine. I’ll stop doing that as soon as you shave.”

Jack ran his hand along his jaw and grinned. “You like the scruff, huh?”

Did she ever.

His jaw tightened. “I warned you about looking at me like that.”

Cameron could see both the heat in his eyes and his internal struggle.

Screw it.

She crossed the space between them and kissed him. As if dispensing with the preliminaries—which was just fine with her—he grabbed her bottom and lifted her up. Not breaking their kiss, she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

“This is probably a bad idea,” Cameron said as she ran her hands over his muscled arms and shoulders, marveling at the ease with which he carried her.

Jack bit her lower lip daringly. “So stop me. Tell me I shouldn’t get involved with you while you’re my witness.”

Cameron tangled her fingers through his thick dark hair. “That does sound complicated.”

At the top of the stairs, he pushed her back against the wall and kissed her neck. “Tell me I should slow down,” he murmured against the base of her throat.

Cameron closed her eyes and nearly moaned. “You probably should.” She shifted as she straddled him, settling the hard bulge in his jeans right between her thighs.

Jack sucked in his breath and carried her into the bedroom. “Tell me this is just some sort of hero-complex with you, because I saved your life today.”

“I suppose that’s entirely possible.”

He laid her on top of the bed and crawled over her. His voice was husky. “Just tell me you don’t want this, Cameron.”

She ran a finger over the cut above his cheek. “Sorry. But that I won’t say.”

Jack kissed her, and something snapped in both of them. Cameron reached for his shoulder harness, having no clue how to get the damn thing off. Jack’s hands roamed everywhere. He grabbed the bottom of her T-shirt, ready to yank it over her head.

“Just watch the stitches,” Cameron mumbled against his mouth.

“Fuck,” Jack hissed and suddenly rolled off her.