Flirting With Disaster (Camelot 3)

He left his head tipped against the cushion and his eyes closed after he swallowed, and she studied his face, noticing the strain around his eyes. The bruised-looking skin beneath them, and the way his mouth turned down at the corners when he wasn’t smiling.

He’d spent so much time flashing predatory grins at her, she hadn’t noticed it before. He didn’t look happy. He looked exhausted.

For the first time since she’d met him, she wondered about his motives. Only if I can have Katie, he’d said at the interview in Chicago, but she’d seen men more disappointed about being forced to stop at a yellow light than Judah was that she’d pulled him up short just shy of third base.

So what did he want her for? She’d made a pretense of talking about the case when she arrived tonight, and he’d blown it off. He’d skipped their meeting yesterday and refused to talk to Sean during the concert.

Strange behavior.

A real security agent would make an effort to get to the bottom of it.

“Judah,” she asked quietly, watching his face for a reaction, “what am I doing here?”

“Baby, you were supposed to be doing me.”

He said it with a cocky grin and half-lidded eyes, a caricature of himself.

She smiled, glad he still had a sense of humor. “You’re Judah Pratt. You could have sex with anybody.”

That earned her a raised eyebrow.

“Almost anybody,” she amended.

“I didn’t want anybody,” he said. “I wanted you.”

“What for?”

He shrugged. “Just because. I like you.”

“That’s not much of a reason. You hardly know me.”

“I feel like I know you. You’re easy to be around. I said that already, didn’t I?” He cast his eyes at the ceiling, blinked, and then nodded. “Yeah, I did, to your grouchy partner. You relax me. That wasn’t bullshit. You do.”

“Okay, but that’s not what I mean. What I mean is, why did you hire me? Because it’s not possible that you hired me for my relaxing qualities.”

“It’s not?”

“No. I’m not a masseuse. And you didn’t hire me for sex, because that would be despicable.”

He slanted her a sideways look that said despicable was by no means beneath him.

“Reprehensible,” she added, and he grinned.

“All right. I didn’t hire you for sex. I hired you because I need you.”

“For what?”

“I have no idea. Sometimes I meet people, and I get a feeling about them. I had a feeling about you.”

“You’re joking.”

He closed his eyes again, rolling his head back and forth against the cushion. “I’m dead serious.”

“What feeling do you have?”

“You’re important.”

“Important how?”