beneath the satiny fabric of her prim white button-down shirt. Her scowl and closed body language might be telling him she wasn’t interested, but the pretty flush of her cheeks—and the blood he could hear racing through her veins—were saying something far different.
As were the tiny amber sparks that kindled in her stormy irises.
The no-nonsense law enforcement agent may want to pretend the attraction between them wasn’t real, the way she had when they met for the first time last week, but he hadn’t been fooled then and he wasn’t fooled now. Whether Brynne wanted to admit it or not, the truth was right in front of him.
She cleared her throat and hiked up her chin. “You haven’t answered my question, Zael. What the hell are you doing in London? For that matter, what the hell are you doing in this club?”
“Looking for you.”
Well, that certainly got her attention. She went silent, her lips slack. The frown that seemed permanently creased into her forehead now faltered, though only for a moment.
“Looking for me.” She sounded surprised, her words guarded. “Whatever for?”
He knew he could play it smooth with her right now, use his charm and her physical, if slightly inebriated, reaction to him to his ultimate advantage. He had to admit, it was tempting.
Despite the fact that she was still dressed for a day in the office, from her sensible heels to the careful updo that corralled her thick mane of sable waves, Brynne had obviously come to this strobe-lit meat market in Cheapside tonight for a reason. Until he saw her shoot down every male who approached her, Zael had wondered if she was there with the intent that she wouldn’t be going home alone.
And why that idea should bother him so much, he didn’t want to examine.
Personally, he’d be up for the challenge himself, but seducing the prickly daywalker wasn’t the reason he was in London. All right, not the sole reason, anyway. He’d actually come out of concern.
He kept his voice low, even though the din in the club assured no one else would overhear. “I heard what happened last night here in London, Brynne.”
“Good news certainly travels fast,” she said dryly. She gave him a mistrusting look. “I wasn’t aware the Order had cleared you for that kind of information, Atlantean.”
“What good is an alliance if it’s crippled by secrets?” At Brynne’s grim nod of acknowledgment, Zael said, “I don’t imagine your colleagues at JUSTIS were pleased to find out you were working in secret with the Order.”
She groaned. “Your intuitive skills astound.”
When she raised her empty glass in plea to the bartender to come back and refill it, Zael gently caught her wrist and brought her hand back down. She looked too shocked to protest the physical contact, even as he covered her fingers with his on the bar. It took her a moment before she withdrew from his loose grasp.
“I know what you’re sacrificing by allying yourself with the Order in this. I also know what it is to be torn between the people you belong to and the ones you know are doing the right thing.”
He’d been toeing that same line since Lucan Thorne had summoned him to Washington, D.C., last week with a request to join forces. In truth, it had been something more than a request. A demand. Hell, it had been nothing short of a plea—no doubt, a first for a man like Lucan.
Zael held Brynne’s skeptical look. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Well, I’m fine.” She broke his stare on a quiet scoff. “If you came here for a front row seat to watch my career implode, you’re too late.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was relieved from duty this afternoon.” Quiet words, heavy with restraint. For all of this female’s cool control and confidence, it was plain enough that the loss of her job had cut her deeply.
“Shit. No wonder you’re sitting here trying to drown yourself in whisky and other bad choices.”
Her sidelong glance was as dry as her voice. “Let me guess. You’re available to be one of them?”
Zael cocked a brow at her. “Are you asking?”
“Never.” She gave him an arch look that should have withered him, but instead sent a flare of heat straight to his crotch. “There isn’t enough whisky in the world for that.”
“Madam, you wound me.”
“Ah, now, there’s an idea,” she said, her lips curving in a smile.
Zael chuckled, not the least dissuaded. He got up from his seat at