Undercover Engagement (Private Pleasures 5)

“Ha. Maybe.” She gave his hair a quick pull. “But you’ve loved me since Taser Day.”

“Come again?” He lowered his head and looked up at her, trying for innocent.

“You drew my name, and you switched.”

Well, shit. Busted. “Alvarez has a big mouth.”

“The roommate bond supersedes all other classmate bonds.”

“Okay. Fine. Carson’s going to get an earful from me. That’s all I’m saying.”

She smiled, but it faded as she met his eyes. “Why did you? Switch, I mean.”

“Learning what it feels like to be on the receiving end of a Taser hit has value, and I understand that. But even so, I wasn’t going to be the guy to cause you pain.”

“Well, gosh. Now I wish I hadn’t Tased you. I really enjoyed it, at the time.”

“I know.” He lowered his head to let her browse her fingernails down his neck.

“I…uh…I actually gave you an extra hit. I was feeling a little mean toward you that day.”

“I know,” he repeated.

“And you’re not mad?”

“Nah, choux.” He raised his head and grinned at her. “That’s when I knew you loved me.”

Epilogue

“How do I look?” Eden eyed herself in the side mirror of Swain’s Bronco and tried to decide if leaving the top three buttons of her black, silk blouse unbuttoned seemed okay for a member of Bluelick PD on a night out at the newly re-opened Rawley’s. Did it say, off duty and relaxed? Or was putting that much cleavage on display a little too Eden Braxton for the occasion? She wanted to get this right.

“You look hot, choux,” he said from the driver’s seat, and sent her a grin as he pulled into the parking lot.

She pushed a lock of hair back and turned to him. “Hot? Uh-oh.” She buttoned the third and second buttons on the blouse, leaving only the top one undone. “I wasn’t aiming for hot. I want to look celebratory, but respectable. I don’t want people to think I’m the Eden they first met in Rawley’s.”

Swain put the truck in park, turned off the ignition and shifted in his seat to look at her head-on. “You look hot,” he reiterated, then reached out and undid the buttons she’d just buttoned, putting her back where she’d started, “and respectable.” A slow smile spread across his lips while he fiddled with her pearl earring. “In fact, you say the word and we’ll skip this shindig, go back to our place, and I’ll show you how hot and respectable you look.”

“No.” But she felt an answering smile tug at her lips. “This is a big night—celebrating Kenny and Dobie completing their twenty-eight days, as well as Rawley’s grand re-opening. We can’t miss it.”

“We can if it’s making you this nervous.”

It was, but then she watched him re-roll the sleeve of his light blue button-down and suspected she wasn’t the only one battling nerves. Was Marc Swain, for all his swagger, a little vulnerable at the prospect of walking into a crowd of locals—even mostly friendly locals—without a cover, or a uniform, or anything except his authentic self? He needn’t be. She spent quality time through the joint op and in the month that had followed with his authentic self, and she knew he didn’t need a con to win people. They’d all warm to him as much as she had. And they’d warm to her too, hopefully. If they didn’t, she’d live. She had a boss she admired, as well as talented and dedicated co-workers who had been nothing but welcoming. And she had Swain—the man she loved. As long as she had him in her corner, as long as she had her place in his corner, everything else would work itself out.

She took a deep breath, took his hands. “I’m not nervous.”

“Really? ‘Cause a second ago I would have sworn you were as nervous as a new kid on her first day at school.”

“Not anymore. You know why?”

“No clue.”

“You’ve got my six. I’ve got yours. And if nobody sits with us in the lunchroom, it’s their loss.”

He flashed the cocky, allegedly panty-dropping smile that had, in their academy days, made her want to punch him…and also drop her panties. “You got that right, choux. Let’s do this thing.”

He took her hand as they walked up the steps and into Rawley’s. Not much had changed. Same scarred wood floors, same neon liquor signs around the bar, same TouchTunes jukebox glowing blue on the back wall and old, coin-operated pool table at the back of the main room. And, like always, a throng of locals congregated, filling barstools, tables and booths. The hum of conversation ebbed as they walked in, and curious eyes swung their way. She threaded her fingers a little tighter with his and sent him a ‘What now?’ glance.

Before he could reply, someone from the main room let out a long, loud whistle. She turned in the direction of the noise to see Junior standing at the head of three tables someone had pushed together, packed with familiar faces. “Swain! Eden! ‘Bout time you got your asses here. Now it’s a party.”