Walking across the lawn, Conall realized he felt no sense of anticipation whatsoever. Okay, this might not be the most exciting operation ever; surveillance gigs never were. Even so, he used to feel at least mildly stirred at the beginning of any new challenge. Lately…
He shook off the momentary brood. He liked action, not sitting in the middle of a cow pasture watching grass grow. No wonder he wasn’t worked up about this particular assignment.
Somehow he hadn’t convinced himself. Boredom wasn’t the whole problem. His dissatisfaction had other causes. He just hadn’t nailed them down yet.
There was no doorbell. Henderson rapped lightly instead. Conall thought he heard a TV on somewhere inside. They waited, finally hearing the sound of someone approaching.
The door opened and a woman stood there. Behind her was a girl—maybe a teenager?—but Conall was only peripherally aware of her. He couldn’t tear his gaze from the woman.
He hadn’t come into this situation with any expectation, so he didn’t know why he was so startled. Then he barely stopped himself from grimacing. Of course he knew why; what he hadn’t expected was to find himself sexually riveted by their reluctant hostess.
She was average height, maybe five foot five or six. Slender but strong, her curves subtle but present. Her feet were bare, her jeans fit snugly over narrow hips and fabulous legs. Her yield-sign yellow T-shirt fit even better, displaying a narrow rib cage and high, apple-size breasts to perfection.
Her face…well, damn, she was beautiful. Stunning. High, winged eyebrows, a model’s cheekbones, a luscious mouth and small straight nose. Her eyes were an unusual mix of brown and green. The colors were deep and rich, not like the typical hazel. And her thick, wavy hair was midnight-black and hung loose to her waist.
God help him, he wanted to grab her, carry her upstairs and find a bedroom. And they hadn’t even said hello.
Man. This wasn’t a good start to what promised to be a lengthy stay. Conall had the wry thought that the stay might be considerably shortened if she noticed he was aroused.
And maybe that would be a good thing. Right this minute, Conall couldn’t imagine living in close proximity to her without breaking down at some point and coming on to her.
Way to lose his job.
His jaw flexed. For God’s sake, if he was that desperate, he’d look for a woman while he was in town. Any woman but this one. Get laid.
He realized how long the silence had stretched. Conall cleared his throat. “Special Agent Conall MacLachlan from the DEA. This is Jeff Henderson. I believe you were expecting us.”
CHAPTER TWO
HENDERSON HAD BEEN gaping, too, but he managed to snap out of it and offer his hand. They shook. Conall offered his badge instead of his hand. He didn’t dare touch her.
She examined it briefly, then glanced at their duffel bags. “That’s all you have?”
“We have more stuff in the car. We thought we’d find out where we’re to set up first.”
She looked past them to the gray Suburban. “At least you don’t have one of those government cars. That would have given you away in a heartbeat.”
Jeff’s face relaxed into a smile. “True enough, ma’am.”
“No ma’am.” She moved back to let them in. “I’m not old enough to be a ma’am. Call me Lia.”
Lia Woods. That was her name. Was Lia Hispanic? Only partly, he thought, given the delicious pale cream of her skin where it wasn’t tanned, as her face and forearms were. And her eyes were a remarkable color.
“Lia,” he said politely.
“This is Sorrel,” she said, “my foster daughter.”
The girl was pretty, in an unfinished way. Skinny but also buxom. She had her arms crossed over her breasts as if she was trying to hide them. Blond hair was pixy-short, her eyes blue and bottomless, her mouth pouty. Blushing, she mumbled, “Hello,” but Conall had the impression she hadn’t decided how she felt about their presence.
They stood in a foyer from which a staircase rose to the second floor. The television was on in a room to his right. He could see the flickering screen from here. To the left seemed to be a dining room; a high chair was visible at one end of a long table.