Twisted (Burbank and Parker 1)

Burt rose. “Actually, I’m the one who intruded. Sloane was expecting the package. She wasn’t expecting me.”

“Derek, this is Burt Wagner, my next-door neighbor Elsa’s son,” Sloane said. “Elsa and Burt are the lifesavers who took the hounds when I got hurt yesterday, and who care for them whenever I travel or when my work keeps me away for insane hours. I’d be lost without them. Burt, this is Special Agent Derek Parker of the FBI. He’s a colleague and, in this case, the messenger who brought me the package I’ve been waiting for.”

The two men shook hands.

“An FBI agent. That’s pretty exciting,” Burt said. “Do you work in the Newark office?”

“No. New York,” Derek replied. “But the New York and Newark field offices often work together, if it becomes necessary.”

“Clearly, this is one of those times.” Burt turned to Sloane. “I’ll get going now. I want to check and see how my mother’s doing.”

Nodding, Sloane walked him to the door. “Remember what I said. If Elsa needs me, I’m there. Just call. Either way, I’ll check on her tomorrow. In the meantime, tell her to rest and get her strength back. And please, thank her for the casserole.”

“I will. And, Sloane—I appreciate your support.” Burt touched her arm lightly. “At times like this, it’s good to know someone cares.” He raised his head and met Derek’s gaze. “Nice to meet you, Agent Parker.”

“Derek,” he corrected. “And same here.”

Sloane had barely shut the door behind Burt and turned around, when Derek—who’d already plopped down on the sofa, crossed his ankles on the hassock in front of him, and folded his arms behind his head—commented, “That guy’s dying to hook up with you.”

“Excuse me?” Sloane’s brows rose.

“You heard me. He might as well be wearing a sign that says ‘I want to get into Sloane Burbank’s pants.’”

“His mother’s not well. He thinks she’s slipping away. I doubt

he’s thinking about sex.”

“I’m sorry to hear about his mother, but he’s definitely thinking about sex—specifically with you.”

Sloane made an exasperated sound. “Fine. He wants to have sex with me. I appreciate the tip.”

“What about you?”

“What about me what?”

“Do you want to have sex with him?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, first you assume the role of my bodyguard, and now you’re monitoring my sex life? I thought I made it clear that—”

“Good,” Derek interrupted with a look of smug satisfaction. “You don’t want to sleep with the guy. Wise choice. He’s not your type. Too needy. Too ordinary. And a little weird; lots of questionable baggage beneath the surface.”

“Thank you, Dr. Ruth. You’re pretty impressive—you got all that from a two-minute introduction?”

“Am I wrong?”

Silence.

“I rest my case.” His teeth gleamed as he gave her that sexy, lopsided grin.

“You are so arrogant, it’s astounding,” Sloane muttered. “I’m surprised no one in C-6 has killed you yet.”

“They’re a tolerant bunch.”

“Obviously.” Sloane glanced thoughtfully toward the door. “I feel sorry for Burt. He’s alone, making life-altering decisions about his mother with no guidance whatsoever.”

“I hope you’re not suggesting that you’ll be providing that guidance.”

“No, I don’t think that would be wise. Besides, I’m not qualified. I’m thinking of a friend of mine. He might be able to help. He’s the steady, calm type. He also has a medical background, and he’s going through something similar to what Burt is.”