All Tied Up

“I’m sure,” he said, walking to the midsize fridge in the corner to unload a few items. He could feel her watching him, feel the heaviness of her stare.

They might be tense, but they were alone in a hotel room, two people who had more than their share of desire for one another. A sizzle of sexual energy crackled in the air. But then, their chemistry was a given at that point.

Nicole’s soft laugh laced the air, a hint of nervousness in the sound, as if she were responding to the mixed array of emotional baggage between them and was as confused by it as he was.

“Thanks to the storm,” she commented, toeing off her stained tennis shoes, “today was probably the only time in my life I could get away with walking into Macy’s looking like a female mud wrestler.”

Constantine deposited several cans of Diet Sprite in the fridge—Nicole’s “favorite drink.” “For all the trouble that storm caused us, it certainly helped us in other ways.”

He looked up to find Nicole unpacking their purchases, his gaze lingering on her graceful movements, her delicate hands reminding him of how amazing her touch felt. He didn’t understand—when had looking at a woman’s hands turned him on?

Inwardly, he shook himself, and went back to packing the fridge, but his mind played with the experience of watching her shop, which had been rather enlightening. All her products, her choices, had told a lot about Nicole. She had a thing for a perfume called “Passion” and apparently anything else sold at the Estée Lauder cosmetic counter. She liked red and pink silk pajamas, which he looked forward to seeing her in…and out of. At his prodding, she’d picked out a couple of work suits for the first few days of the trial; they were preparing to stay in hiding as long as possible. Her contrasting choices of sexy sleepwear and conservative work attire had intrigued him. She was the perfect woman. He paused in the act of putting orange juice away, wondering where that thought had come from.

Before he could venture further, Nicole drew him into conversation. “I really don’t know how you stand always being undercover. I need my safe haven, my space that I escape to.”

Which was why he’d made sure she’d purchased items she would use at home, hoping to give her a sense of control. “When you’re deep undercover, you take on a persona that feels like it’s you. If you don’t, you won’t survive.”

She stopped what she was doing and stared at him. “Sounds like a hard way to live.”

“After a while, the act becomes second nature. We can train ourselves to step out of our comfort zones.” Just as she had. The writing was on the wall. She wanted to be the staunch federal prosecutor, but there were parts of that role she struggled to embrace. “But I suspect you know that.” He didn’t give her time to respond, not wanting to make her defensive, regretting he’d even spoken the words. They’d had enough tension during the long ride. He pushed to his feet. “You can have the shower first.”

“That sounds good.” She glanced at the clock. “I am supposed to call Dean in an hour regarding that motion to suppress your testimony by the defense.”

“Which you’re sure they won’t get.”

She scoffed, pushing off the bed with a bag in hand. “About as good a chance as snow in mid-July.”

Her words held spunk; her mood seemed to lift as her zeal for victory appeared to take hold. Clearly, she enjoyed the battle, and enjoyed winning her cases. But then, it was clear that the lines they had drawn in order to reach success were the same lines that were creating all her conflict. They both lived the conflicting messages their legal system elicited, both struggled with them. But each of them had taken a different path to deal with the obstacles they faced from that system. She’d gone to one side of the line, he to the other. Ironically, neither of them liked the result.

Could there be two people so similar and so different in this world?

He watched her sashay past him, heading to the bathroom. His gaze dropped, lingered, riveted on her perfect ass, his groin tightening as he thought of all the things he was going to do to her there, in that room. They’d better enjoy what time they had.

Because when they left that room, there would be a tough trial and tough decisions. Like twenty-four-hour security for Nicole. Not something he planned to bring up until he had to.

Meanwhile, he’d protect her and then get the hell out of her life, so she could avoid the danger that always affected those around him. Which meant they should now burn out the chemistry they shared. And something told him that was going to require a lot of time in bed.