That man was
relentless. She threw off the covers, slipped into her robe, and
stomped down the back stairs. Blowing an errant hair out of her eyes,
she yanked open the door. “I overslept. Can you wait while I
shower?”
He walked in, his hands resting on his
hips. “Did somebody wake up on the wrong side of the bed this
morning?”
She rolled her shoulders trying to
unkink the tightness that had set in from hours and hours of tossing
and turning. Her hair refused to behave, so she did the best she
could by pushing it over to one side and resting it on her shoulder.
She peered at Enrique through hooded
lids. Wasn’t it a crime to not only look positively gorgeous this
early in the morning, but to be so happy, too? “Ooooooh, I’m so
tired.”
“Stop whining.” Those gosh darn
dimples appeared. “Besides, after Tony’s, I’m going to take you
to Sloppy Joes. You know, the place Hemmingway made famous.”
Her eyes opened a little wider. “As
in Ernest?”
“Is there another? Come on.”
“Wait a minute. Before I agree, I
have a few questions and some stipulations.”
“I’m all ears.”
“This started out being a mission to
find out more about what happened to Tony, and believe me, I
appreciate you helping me out, but now with lunch…is this a date?”
He rubbed his fingers under his chin
as if considering her question. “You and me alone, eating, talking,
maybe even having a good time. Yeah, it might be a date.”
She tsked. “I told you I don’t
want to go out with you.”
“Okay,
wrong answer.” He shook his head. “It’s not a date.”
“You’re only
trying to appease me.”
“And your point?”
His mischievous smile remained infectious.
Still, her head
felt leaden from lack of sleep and Enrique’s grand plan wasn’t
helping. It only made her thoughts more muddled. She walked to the
sink, opened the bottle, and swallowed two aspirins.
She needed
fortification. And a clear head. Spending time with him outside the
bar was not a good idea. But there wasn’t a damn thing she could do
to stop herself.
Instead, she sucked
in a deep breath and laid out the ground rules. “Here’s the deal:
no touching, no handholding, no flirting, no sexy talk, no dancing,
and absolutely no kissy face.”
“No kissy face?
Well, that might be a deal breaker.” He drew in an exaggerated
breath as if weighing the possibilities. “You didn’t mention no
sex did you? I might have you on a technicality.”
When her Uncle Jack
is arrested on drug charges, Sammie Murphy hops the first plane to Key West.
Being rescued isn’t on her uncle’s to-do list, though. When he admits guilt and
instructs her to go home, Sammie knows with 100% certainty something is
seriously wrong.
Veteran DEA agent Enrique Santos knows when a bust is solid.
So why is he allowing Jack Murphy’s niece to mess with his head? He’s been
set-up and nearly killed by a woman like her before, and he’s not about to make
that mistake again.
But then things at Murphy’s bar take a turn for the
dangerous, leaving Sammie entangled in Enrique’s dark past. Forced to
second-guess his convictions, Enrique has no choice but to kidnap the one woman
who could destroy everything...including his heart.
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