lower her voice. “Who did you think she was?”
“Your wife … or someone.”
His dimple deepened and suddenly she saw the resemblance. “Joni will get a kick out of that one.”
“So is there a wife … or someone?” She couldn’t believe she’d asked such a personal question. She barely knew the man. But he’d kissed her and she’d tingled, and she simply had to know.
“There are a few someones. Just no one in particular.”
In other words he slept around. She’d bet her charm bracelet
his
life wasn’t rated PG.
He dipped his chin and looked at her over the top of his sunglasses. “You do know that we’re just role-playing here.”
She forced herself not to flinch. “Of course.” She would hold her own with this man if it killed her. Utilizing her rusty acting skills, she affected her best smitten-kitten persona. She skimmed her palm down his shirt, marveling at the hard muscles beneath, trying not to wonder what he looked like naked, which was no doubt
amazing
, and then rested her hand on his thigh. “So why are we watching Anthony Rivelli?” she asked in a throaty whisper.
He eyed her for a moment and then turned away and plucked a small sack of peanuts from one of the souvenir bags. “Because his fiancée, Angela Brannigan, thinks he’s seeing another woman.”
“Oh.” She wondered if Angela had sufficient grounds, or if she was just unreasonably jealous. Like Dora and Frances who’d bullied Afia off of the charity committee just because their wandering husbands’ eyes had lately strayed over to her. With Randy and Frank gone, those poor paranoid women assumed, though wrongly so, that she’d be on the hunt for wealthy husband number three. Her latest scandal had given them the fuel they needed to jettison Afia out of their social circle thereby banishing temptation. “Does she have any proof?”
“That’s why she hired me.” He popped a peanut in his mouth. “To get proof.”
Afia’s mind skipped to another sneaky snake. She leaned closer, her hand edging farther up Jake’s thigh. “So how hard is it?”
He lapsed into a spasm of choked coughs. “What?”
Afia reached around and whacked him on the back. “How hard is it to track someone?”
“Oh, for Christ’s … why?”
“Just curious.”
“You can stop pounding on me. I’ll live.” He eyed her over the rims of his sunglasses. “I hope.”
Her stomach turned. “Don’t joke like that.”
I haven’t done anything wrong
.
He chucked the peanut sack into the souvenir bag. “Who do you want to track?”
“No one.”
“Leave the snooping to the professionals, Afia.
“Maybe I’d like to become a professional.”
“You don’t have what it takes. Ah, shit.” He tugged at the brim of his cap. “Here comes Rivelli.”
“
You haven’t worked a day in your life
.”
“
You’re a fluff-brained idiot
.”
Afia’s breath quickened as a surge of anger spiked her heart rate.
Harness your feelings, swallow the hurt
. Outbursts, according to her mother, were undignified. And by nature Afia abhorred confrontation.
“
You don’t have what it takes
.”
Her heart thundered in her ears. How did he know what she was capable of? She didn’t even know herself until she unconsciously positioned herself in his lap, shielding him from Rivelli’s view.
Spurred on by frustration and the driving, salsa beat, she shed her smitten-kitten routine and adopted the role of the brazen vixen. She wrapped her arms around Jake’s neck and devoured that sinfully, sexy mouth. She nipped and suckled his lower lip, teasing the seam of his mouth with her tongue. He groaned, or maybe it was an exasperated grunt. She couldn’t tell. She didn’t care. When he opened his mouth and took possession of her tongue, an extravaganza of fireworks exploded behind her closed lids.
He tasted of spicy mustard, smoke, and sin.
She wanted to drown in his decadence. This kiss sizzled. This kiss was rated R.
It was all she could do not
“Your wife … or someone.”
His dimple deepened and suddenly she saw the resemblance. “Joni will get a kick out of that one.”
“So is there a wife … or someone?” She couldn’t believe she’d asked such a personal question. She barely knew the man. But he’d kissed her and she’d tingled, and she simply had to know.
“There are a few someones. Just no one in particular.”
In other words he slept around. She’d bet her charm bracelet
his
life wasn’t rated PG.
He dipped his chin and looked at her over the top of his sunglasses. “You do know that we’re just role-playing here.”
She forced herself not to flinch. “Of course.” She would hold her own with this man if it killed her. Utilizing her rusty acting skills, she affected her best smitten-kitten persona. She skimmed her palm down his shirt, marveling at the hard muscles beneath, trying not to wonder what he looked like naked, which was no doubt
amazing
, and then rested her hand on his thigh. “So why are we watching Anthony Rivelli?” she asked in a throaty whisper.
He eyed her for a moment and then turned away and plucked a small sack of peanuts from one of the souvenir bags. “Because his fiancée, Angela Brannigan, thinks he’s seeing another woman.”
“Oh.” She wondered if Angela had sufficient grounds, or if she was just unreasonably jealous. Like Dora and Frances who’d bullied Afia off of the charity committee just because their wandering husbands’ eyes had lately strayed over to her. With Randy and Frank gone, those poor paranoid women assumed, though wrongly so, that she’d be on the hunt for wealthy husband number three. Her latest scandal had given them the fuel they needed to jettison Afia out of their social circle thereby banishing temptation. “Does she have any proof?”
“That’s why she hired me.” He popped a peanut in his mouth. “To get proof.”
Afia’s mind skipped to another sneaky snake. She leaned closer, her hand edging farther up Jake’s thigh. “So how hard is it?”
He lapsed into a spasm of choked coughs. “What?”
Afia reached around and whacked him on the back. “How hard is it to track someone?”
“Oh, for Christ’s … why?”
“Just curious.”
“You can stop pounding on me. I’ll live.” He eyed her over the rims of his sunglasses. “I hope.”
Her stomach turned. “Don’t joke like that.”
I haven’t done anything wrong
.
He chucked the peanut sack into the souvenir bag. “Who do you want to track?”
“No one.”
“Leave the snooping to the professionals, Afia.
“Maybe I’d like to become a professional.”
“You don’t have what it takes. Ah, shit.” He tugged at the brim of his cap. “Here comes Rivelli.”
“
You haven’t worked a day in your life
.”
“
You’re a fluff-brained idiot
.”
Afia’s breath quickened as a surge of anger spiked her heart rate.
Harness your feelings, swallow the hurt
. Outbursts, according to her mother, were undignified. And by nature Afia abhorred confrontation.
“
You don’t have what it takes
.”
Her heart thundered in her ears. How did he know what she was capable of? She didn’t even know herself until she unconsciously positioned herself in his lap, shielding him from Rivelli’s view.
Spurred on by frustration and the driving, salsa beat, she shed her smitten-kitten routine and adopted the role of the brazen vixen. She wrapped her arms around Jake’s neck and devoured that sinfully, sexy mouth. She nipped and suckled his lower lip, teasing the seam of his mouth with her tongue. He groaned, or maybe it was an exasperated grunt. She couldn’t tell. She didn’t care. When he opened his mouth and took possession of her tongue, an extravaganza of fireworks exploded behind her closed lids.
He tasted of spicy mustard, smoke, and sin.
She wanted to drown in his decadence. This kiss sizzled. This kiss was rated R.
It was all she could do not
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