Officer off Limits (Line of Duty 3)

“Oh, really?” Daniel leaned forward, glad to have the focus off him. “Now we’re talking. Let’s hear it.”

Brent shook his head. “It’s nothing—”

Matt cut him off. “The second you and Story left, he threw an arm around her shoulder and asked her if she wanted one more drink. Or maybe he called it a nightcap. She told him he was drunk enough. And…wait for it…he said, verbatim, ‘I’m not drunk, I’m just intoxicated by you.’ She couldn’t get into a cab fast enough.”

Daniel barked out a laugh. “Oh, wow. You should write poetry.” He shook his head. “Seriously, have I taught you nothing?”

“Very funny, assholes.” Brent scowled. “I’m not into uptight rich girls anyway.”

Daniel and Matt exchanged an amused glance just as they pulled into the training center located directly on the banks of the Hudson River. It boasted three helipads that they would be making use of for the training exercise, and a massive warehouse containing a gymnasium, an Olympic-size swimming pool, and several obstacle courses.

As soon as Brent pulled into a parking spot, Daniel hopped out and dialed Story’s number. He didn’t have long before the session began and Matt had been right—he wouldn’t be able to concentrate with the possibility that she wouldn’t want to see him again hanging over his head.

She answered on the third ring, her voice stroking over his senses. “Hello?”

“Hey, sunshine.”

“Daniel.”

Good Lord, baby, Say my name again. I need you to say it in your sleep. When you touch yourself. To no one in particular. Just say it, say it, say it. “Did you get out of bed yet?”

Her breath caught at his gruff reminder that they’d been in bed together mere hours before. Good. He wanted her thinking about it. “Yes, I’m at the hospital visiting my dad. I’m in the lobby buying coffee.”

A subtle hint that Jack wouldn’t overhear anything they said. For some reason, that bothered him a little too much. “How is he today?”

“I had to read him the riot act about his corned beef consumption.” She sighed. “Also, he’s thinking of fixing you up with Hayden, so there’s that…”

Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “Is that right?”

“Hmm.”

“Too bad she’s not my type.” He dropped his voice. “I prefer sexy little blondes who have tan lines hiding underneath their panties.”

He thought he heard her moan softly and his body responded without hesitation. Nothing ever went according to plan with this girl. Even as he’d dialed her number, his plan had been to apologize for being too physical last night in bed, but everything went out the window the second she’d answered. A flicker of irritation passed through him that he couldn’t refrain from making their conversation sexual, but the rest of him was too stirred up to care.

“Were you peeking while I slept?”

“I might have. Does that bother you?”

“It should.”

“But it doesn’t.”

A short, exhale of breath. “No.”

Daniel groaned into the phone. “God, why didn’t I take you again this morning? If I could do it over again, I would roll you over and suck on your nipples until you were wet enough for me. I’ll always have to make sure you’re slick, baby. You’re so tight…”

She gave a choked cough. “I can’t believe you’re saying this to me while I’m standing in line for coffee. There are people around…”

“Would you say something dirty if no one could overhear you?”

“Maybe.” A deep breath. “Yes.”

Daniel hummed his approval at her honesty. “Good. Remember what you want to say and tell me later.”

Blowing out a breath he envisioned ruffling her bangs, she changed the subject. “What kind of training exercise do you have today? Anything exciting?”

He laughed at the unsteadiness in her voice. “We’ve got some choppers taking us out to Long Island Sound to do water rescues.”

“As in, jumping out of a helicopter into the water? That kind of water rescue?” He made a brief sound of confirmation. “Be careful, Daniel. I don’t want to miss my first baseball game tomorrow night.”

His brow furrowed. “Your first baseball game?”

“Yeah. Jack said you wanted to take me to a Mets game tomorrow night.”

“He did?” Did he miss something? He was a Mets season ticket holder and had planned on going to the game tomorrow night, but he hadn’t told Jack he would take Story.

“Was he…wrong?” Story asked, sounded unsure. “If you’re taking someone else—”

“No!” Wake up, idiot. “No. Sorry, I was just distracted. Of course I’m taking you.”

“All right, great.” He heard her order two cups of coffee in the background. “Oh, and Jack said to tell you something…what was it? Ah…he said, ‘If the Mets get anywhere near home base, it’ll be the last game they ever play.’” She laughed. “I don’t know a lot about baseball. Did that make sense?”

Daniel gulped. “Perfect sense.” In other words, touch my daughter and die, asshole.

“See you tomorrow, Daniel.”

“Bye, sunshine.”

Daniel hung up the phone and stared off into space. Obviously Jack was trying to kill him. Take my beautiful daughter out, sit next to her for hours on end, and bring her home untouched. The prom date from hell.

Matt and Brent came up behind him.

“How’d it go?” Matt asked.

“Oh, you know…perfect.” He turned to Brent. “I’m taking her to the game tomorrow night.”

Brent’s mouth dropped open. “What the hell? I thought you were taking me?”

“Tough shit. She smells better than you.”

Chapter Twelve

As Daniel rode the elevator to Story’s floor, he repeated the promise he’d made to himself countless times since Saturday morning. They were going to have a normal date. He could keep his indecent thoughts—and hands—to himself for the next five hours. And when they returned from Queens later tonight, he would wait until she invited him inside, not making any assumptions. He’d spent a lot of time thinking since last he’d seen her and he’d come to one conclusion. If he wanted Story to take him seriously, he needed to prove to her that sex didn’t rule his every waking thought and action. Right now, she viewed him as someone who played the field, someone only interested in her body. He hadn’t helped discourage that assumption and it was time to rectify it.

Furthermore, he owed it to Jack to act like a gentleman with his daughter. He’d failed in doing so up until this point, but it ended now. Going behind his mentor’s back was bad enough.

Five hours. He would charm her,

show her his thoughtful side. Brent insisted that women went crazy for men who were sensitive, though, Jesus, when the hell had he started considering Brent’s advice? He was usually the one doling out words of wisdom concerning the opposite sex. Maybe he and Story could discuss a book or something. He hadn’t read a book in a while, but he could wing it. After all, he worked best under pressure.

On Friday night, he’d completely bullied her. Dragged her from the bar, given her hell for her little onstage performance, and roughed her up in bed. Tonight, he would be Mr. Tranquility. Nothing would rattle him. By the end of the date, she’d see him in a new light. Daniel, the thoughtful, fun-loving Mets fan. He pulled off complicated negotiations on a weekly basis. He could absolutely pull this off.

He stepped off the elevator with a little extra bounce in his step. Then he saw the plastic-wrapped bouquet of red roses sitting outside her door. Roses he hadn’t sent. And just like that, his sea of tranquility turned into the perfect storm.

“Oh, hell no.” Snatching the arrangement off the floor so fast that one of the blooms fell to the ground, he searched for a note among the greenery.

For Story. —Fisher

Daniel pounded on the door, note crumpled in his fist. A few seconds later, she answered smiling. But it quickly disappeared when she glimpsed his expression. Dressed in the jean skirt he remembered all too well from their first encounter, and a white tank top, she looked mouthwateringly fresh and beautiful. For some reason, that only made his irritation grow.

Eyes landing on the flowers, she pursed her lips in confusion. “Okay, a puzzle. I like puzzles. You bought me flowers, but you’re clearly angry with me. Were they that expensive?”

“I didn’t buy them.” Daniel took little comfort in her look of surprise. He couldn’t think past the foreign emotions burning through his gut. “They’re from him.”

“Him…who?” Recognition dawned in her eyes. “Fisher? Why would he send me flowers?” She shook her head. “Roses, at that. He always bought me sunflowers.”