The attraction between them was real--no doubt about that. And she didn't question that he cared about her. But how far did that go? Until they caught Beau? Until he went back to his day job?
Forever?
Please, let him want forever.
She needed to talk with him--she knew that. But when? Not today. Not when they were trying to catch a guy who probably intended to kill her once he caught and dragged her back to Arkansas. The last thing she wanted was to distract Landon with relationship stuff. He needed to be on-game. He was running the whole operation--all while strutting half-naked across a stage.
So when?
It was a question she didn't find a quick answer for, but when he walked through the door moments later in the jeans he wore so damn well, his shirtless torso damp from a shower, her resolve ratcheted up a thousand-fold.
Tonight.
They'd catch Beau, she'd invite Landon to her apartment to celebrate, they'd have wine and make love, and as he held her close, she'd tell him that she loved him.
Assuming she didn't die of nervousness before then.
"You okay?" He sat on the edge of the bed, his brows drawn in concern.
"Just scared," she said, offering the truth and knowing he'd misunderstand.
He took her hand. "We'll have ten plainclothes officers on site. A
nd we don't have to wait for him to make a move against you. Those warrants are cause. You see him, you signal."
"He may not be there at all," she said.
"It's a possibility, but I'm betting he comes."
She hoped so. They'd walked their legs off delivering three times the normal number of flyers around downtown. "Fingers crossed. And of course I'll be looking. But your view from the stage will be better."
He nodded. "True, but I've only seen photos. You're our best hope since he'll undoubtedly be wearing some sort of disguise. Hard for me to see through, but easier for you."
She swallowed and nodded. He was right. Even after eight years, she'd recognize Beauregard Harkness even if he was disguised. His image was burned onto her soul.
"I asked Reece to move one of the tall cocktail tables near the stage," Landon continued. "You can pretend to be so enamored of my awesomeness that you climb on top of your stool to get a better look."
She grinned. "Like a groupie. Nice."
He reached over and plucked at the shirt. "Looks like you already are."
A wave of mortification swept over her. "I'm sorry. I wanted something oversized, and I just pulled open a drawer. I wasn't thinking, and I--"
He silenced her with a kiss. "I like it."
"Yeah? What exactly?"
He chuckled. "All of it. The way you look in my shirt. And the fact that you're comfortable enough to plow through my stuff."
She bopped him with the small pillow supporting her knee. "There was no plowing. I was very neat."
"I may not wash that shirt for months, you know. Once you take it off, it's going to smell like you. The guys at work will wonder why I'm walking around with a constant hard-on."
"Oh, no. No talk like that. We have to get ready. There's no time for sex."
"There's always time for sex."
She bent forward and kissed him, very slow and with a lot of tongue. "After you win the Mr. August crown."