Desperate Girls (Wolfe Security #1)(56)

But he didn’t kiss her. He turned away, and they started walking back to the parking lot in silence. When they reached the SUV, Erik dug a key fob from his pocket and unlocked the rear cargo door. He twisted the cap off a water bottle and handed it to her.

“Thanks.” She sighed and shook her head.

“What?”

“You didn’t even break a sweat.”

“Yeah, I did.” He stripped off his T-shirt and tossed it in the back, and Brynn was again struck dumb.

His muscular torso was a work of art. And yet he didn’t even seem to notice her gawking as he rummaged through his duffel and took out a clean shirt.

“What, you don’t want to hit the O-course?” she asked.

“Do you?” He paused in the act of putting on the T-shirt, peering at her through the neck hole.

“Kidding.”

He pulled the shirt on. “You sure? I could help you. It might be fun.”

“My idea of fun is a margarita and a beach towel, not a chin-up bar.” She wiped the sweat from her brow and looked up at him. “And speaking of . . . you have any plans tonight? There’s this Mexican place called Emilio’s not far from the Atrium. Amazing enchiladas.”

Was she really doing this? Was she really asking her bodyguard out on a date after she’d kissed him in her bedroom? Evidently, she was. And he wasn’t answering, so maybe he thought it was weird.

It was weird. Erik’s job was to be with her, so it was almost like having a paid escort. Ick.

“Or we could get takeout,” she suggested.

“Might be easier.”

They climbed into the car and got moving, and Brynn tried not to overanalyze his response as they pulled out of the lot.

Easier how? Because it would be less like a date? Was he trying to put her off ? He’d seemed so relaxed a few minutes ago, and now he’d tensed up. The fact that he was driving her around like a chauffeur just emphasized the awkwardness of their relationship.

Not that they had a relationship, not in the traditional sense.

He was her bodyguard. She was his client. Anything else was just . . . temporary friendship. Or a figment of her active imagination.

But she hadn’t imagined that kiss. No, that had been very real. And he’d been very into it, if only for a few stolen moments before Trent interrupted them.

Brynn took out her phone and pulled up the website for Emilio’s. “How about I place a takeout order?” she asked, trying to keep her tone light.

“Sounds good.”

Erik glanced at Brynn in the passenger seat. For the past twenty minutes, she’d been scrolling through phone messages and avoiding conversation.

He’d damn near kissed her back there. He’d been a heartbeat away from dragging her against him and kissing the hell out of her when the sound of pistol fire had reminded him where they were.

He clenched his teeth. What was he doing? He was on duty. He was supposed to be protecting her, not lusting after her.

Erik concentrated on rush-hour traffic and tried to get his thoughts under control. By the time they reached the apartment, he was back in the zone. No more distractions, not for the next five hours. When midnight rolled around, his thoughts could go wherever they wanted, but until then, his mind was a lust-free zone.

His problem was, it wasn’t just physical attraction pulling his mind off the job. It was everything.

He liked watching her work. He liked talking to her—not just about Corby or her trial but about anything at all. She could recite her damn grocery list, and he’d be riveted by her mouth and the sexy tone of her voice.

He even liked arguing with her, which seemed to happen a lot. She wasn’t afraid to question him or challenge him, and every time she did it, she got his blood going.

He pulled into the driveway and parked behind a black Mercedes, where a woman was unloading shopping bags.

“Thanks for the run,” Brynn said.

“No problem.”

“Thank your brother’s friend, too. It was nice of him to set us up.”

“Sure.”

Erik got out, scanning the surrounding area before opening Brynn’s door. He’d been on the lookout for a white Dodge pickup for days now, but he hadn’t seen a single one.

Trent was in the lobby as they entered the building, and Erik caught his eye.

“I need you to take Brynn up while I park,” Erik told him.

“No problem.”

Erik left her with Trent, and his phone buzzed as he stepped back outside. He didn’t recognize the number, but he’d given his contact info out to quite a few people over the past few days.

“Erik Morgan,” he said.

“Yeah, I got a message here from my supervisor,” a male voice said. “Someone wanted me to call about a white pickup in the parking garage at the Ames?”

The Ames Theater. This would be the janitor Erik had been trying to track down. According to the building superintendent, he would have been coming into work Tuesday morning not long before the shooting incident.

“Are you Mr. Mathis?” Erik asked.

“That’s me. I work in the theater four days a week. I was here Tuesday, but I didn’t see any white pickup truck.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. This note here says you’re an investigator. Is that Dallas PD?”