Chances Are - By Christy Reece Page 0,23
my first day on the job, I showed up with so many piercings and tats, Noah barely recognized me.”
“Did he ask you why you’d added them?”
“No, funnily enough, he didn’t. Noah has always been accepting of my differences.”
“You’re very fond of him, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely. Without him and Milo hiring me, I’m not sure how my family and I would have survived.”
“Milo’s the guy who helped McCall put LCR together?”
“Yes, he was killed by an LCR traitor.”
“Hard to believe there are those who betray Last Chance Rescue, knowing what we do.”
“Unfortunately there are people who would sell their own souls for money.”
Jake released a dry, humorless laugh. “Yeah, don’t I know that.”
“You’ve run across a lot of people like that?”
“Hell yeah, haven’t you?”
“Actually no. Most of the people I know are good, decent people. Learning we had a traitor in our midst was a shock.”
“You’re lucky. Most of the people I’ve known were out for one thing only—themselves. And to hell with everyone else.”
“That’s a very jaded view of life. Do you include LCR people in your assessment?”
“No. I know none of them are angels but from what I’ve observed they’re not in this line of work for the power and money most people desire. They genuinely want to help others.”
“Just like you.”
He got to his feet and headed to the kitchen. “Want something to drink?”
An exasperated sigh, laced with sadness, escaped her. Typical Jake move. If the conversation got the least bit personal, he shut it down or walked away.
She had stopped wondering what made her pursue a man who made it obvious he didn’t want the attention. It wasn’t sheer stubbornness, although she had that in abundance, nor was it wanting what she couldn’t have. She had been attracted to other men, some had returned her interest, others hadn’t. None had fascinated her like Jake. Not one of them had made her want to hold and comfort him. Nor had any of them infuriated and turned her on at the same time. Her heart had no doubts that Jake was the one for her. She did, however, have serious doubts that her heart would get what it wanted.
“I have another question.”
She looked up as Jake returned to the room, a glass of water in his hand. “What?”
“Why a stripper?”
She was more than a little surprised he hadn’t asked the question before. The disapproval on his face when he’d looked at her cover had been apparent.
“Exotic dancers are one of his preferences. It only made sense that one of us go undercover as one.”
“I agree. But why you? You set up the covers for most LCR operatives. You could have assigned dancer to someone else.”
“The other female operatives on the mission don’t have the experience I have.”
It took every ounce of control she possessed not to laugh at his stunned expression.
“You’ve been a stripper?”
“Not technically but I took some classes.”
“When?”
“Exotic dance class was an elective in college and I really enjoyed it. After I graduated, I took more classes to stay in shape. It’s a great workout. My body is as limber now as it was when I was in school.”
Jake clenched his jaw. Hell, that was information he definitely didn’t want. He’d been throwing out questions at her, hoping for relief from the ache that was a constant part of him when he was with Angela. Her revelations about her exotic dance experience were ones he could have done without. Just the thought of her beautiful, graceful body, barely clothed and dancing sensually to music, made him rock hard. What the hell was he going to do when he actually witnessed the event?
He took a long swallow of his cold water. The temperature outside was just above freezing. In this room, it had shot up considerably in the last few seconds.
“I’m going to shower.” She stood and smiled slightly. “All of my tats are just about gone. None of the victims were inked, so I figured I needed to get rid of them.”
“So none of them were real?”
“And no piercings either.” She easily pulled an earring from her earlobe that he could have sworn was pierced. Laughter dancing in her eyes, she added, “I have an aversion to needles.”
“That’s something we have in common. I can’t stand them either.” He grinned as he remembered one drunken night long ago. “I was on leave with a few of my buddies from the Army. One night we were hell bent on getting tattoos. I thought I was just drunk enough that