Sex & The Single Girl. Joanne RockЧитать онлайн книгу.
recognizing the FBI-guy tone creeping into Aidan’s voice. “If you want to talk business, maybe you’d better make an appointment.”
“Does that mean if I want to talk personal, you’ll listen to me now?”
Was it her imagination, or had he somehow moved closer? The heat of his body warmed Brianne’s purposely sterile office. If she let him stay in here long enough, she had the feeling he could single-handedly steam all the mirrors and glass.
“I’m saying, make an appointment.” She held out her hand for the remote. “Can I have my equipment back? I’m trying to run a smooth operation here tonight—a fact you seem to be repeatedly forgetting.”
But Aidan was already walking away from her, keeping her remote hostage in the back pocket of his jeans. Damn the man.
Of all the places she wouldn’t touch, he couldn’t have picked anywhere more off-limits.
“You’re pretty interested in technology gadgets, aren’t you, Bri?” He trailed a finger across her master control board, an action that drove techno-types as insane as nails on a chalkboard.
“Touch my buttons and you’re dead, Maddock.”
“Seems like I’m already hitting all your buttons.” He gave her a wicked grin and dropped into a black leather chair in front of the control panel. “Seriously, I heard you studied some major technology while you were at film school. I thought you’d always wanted to be a director?”
With his big body sprawled across her office furniture and his thinly disguised nosy questions, Aidan might as well have hung his FBI shingle on her front door. Despite his lazy posture and casual approach, Agent Maddock was clearly at work.
Brianne sighed, sinking into the leather chair beside his. She didn’t stand a chance of getting any work done until she’d answered at least a few of his questions. “I am a director. As I’m sure a professional snoop like you already knows. I just happened to enjoy the engineering aspect quite a bit.”
His gray eyes held hers a second too long, reminding her of the best kiss of her life….
“You always were into electronic contraptions, weren’t you? Remember that remote key finder you gave me?”
Her cheeks warmed. Did he have to remind her of her schoolgirl crush on him?
She frowned, hoping maybe he’d think she gave useless widgets to everyone she met.
“It’s the envy of every Fed in my office,” Aidan continued, oblivious to her discomfiture while he warmed to his topic. “I left my keys in a Chinese restaurant once and that remote led me right to my beeping key chain. Of course, I had to dig through a little chow mein in the back alley to retrieve them, but it beat walking home.”
Brianne blinked, surprised at the genuine appreciation in his voice. “I’ve progressed since then,” she found herself saying before she could question the wisdom of sharing anything about herself with this man. “Now I can program a menu into my refrigerator so that it reminds me what to take out of the freezer every morning.”
“You’re kidding.” He looked at her like she’d just solved one of his cases. “You ought to work for the Bureau, Brianne. Sort of like Q in those James Bond flicks.”
She had to admire his skillful way of bringing the conversation back around to business. Frankly, she welcomed the distancing reminder of their opposite worlds. She’d been enjoying their conversation just a little bit too much. “Joining the Bureau isn’t going to make me start spilling secrets about Melvin Baxter. I have no idea where he is.”
His gaze met hers as she denied it, as if he was subjecting her to some sort of mental lie detector test.
“Do you think your mother has been in contact with him?” Aidan leaned forward in his chair and pulled her remote control out of his back pocket to study it, as if he didn’t place much importance upon her answer.
Brianne saw straight through the act. Aidan took his job seriously and he was on a mission tonight. She couldn’t buy into his cool FBI guy with a Fu Manchu facade this time around. Aidan might look laid-back, but she knew firsthand he tracked down his personal “most wanted” with single-minded focus.
“I don’t know, Aidan. Even if I did, I’m not certain that I’d discuss it with you.” Too much ancient history between them. Too much hormonal short-circuiting if she sat within touching distance. “Now, can I have my remote back? I’ve got work to do.”
He lifted one dark eyebrow, a quirky expression Brianne remembered well. Her eighteen-year-old self had tried for at least half an hour to raise only one eyebrow like that, and she’d ended up with a massive headache.
“And you think you can just snap your fingers and make the FBI disappear?” Aidan pitched the remote from hand to hand, never taking his eyes off her.
While she admired the man’s dexterity—and didn’t that give rise to intriguing questions about what else he did well with his hands?—Brianne couldn’t afford to allow him to distract her with his sleight of hand.
She snatched the device away from him in midair. “I might not be able to make you vanish this minute since I’m working solo tonight.” Besides, he didn’t exactly pose an immediate danger the way a drunken patron could if she took her eyes off the screens. “But I do know I’m entitled to go about my business while you’re here. Either cut to the chase about what you want from me, Aidan, or let me do my job.” She pressed a button on her recaptured electronic controller and flipped through several camera feeds to monitor the action throughout the club.
Of course, she needed to then follow through on her action and swivel in her chair to view the various monitors off to her side. A position which left her staring up at several small televisions along with an oversize, frozen image of Aidan and the cigarette girl, Daisy, on the middle screen.
She had larger-than-life Aidan on camera in front of her, and all-too-real Aidan emanating pheromones behind her.
A pretty powerful combination.
Good thing Brianne had gotten over her crush on him long ago or this situation might have presented a problem.
A shiver tripped through her while she waited— hoped—he’d give up. Maybe he could go search for Daisy Stephenson’s mouth again. Surely anything would be better than just sitting there behind her.
She could feel the weight of his stare along the back of her neck. She was also pretty damn sure she felt every one of his 98.6 degrees heating the boundaries of her personal space.
And he was getting closer.
Brianne didn’t know how she knew it, but the hair on the back of her neck stood on end with awareness. To turn around would be like acknowledging her curiosity. Something she definitely did not want to admit—even to herself.
But what was he doing back there?
TWO HOME RUNS IN THREE at bats.
Aidan rallied his quickly-splintering concentration to keep his mind off Brianne and his hands to himself.
Think baseball.
The Marlins’ first baseman had been on fire last night—moving his slugging percentage up to almost seven hundred, if Aidan’s math proved semi-reliable.
Which it probably wasn’t, given that the usual appeal of bases gained divided by at bats couldn’t compare to the allure of Brianne Wolcott’s auburn hair spilling over her barely-covered back.
Pale, satiny skin begged his touch while her killer strawberry curls shimmered in the reflected light of ten different televisions.
He might have persevered and calculated stats for the next guy on the roster if only Aidan didn’t remember exactly how smooth that creamy skin felt and how intoxicating her exotic scent had been from their long-ago, accidental interlude.
The faint perfume teased him even now,