pulled a tangle of wire.
“You have exceptional taste in home décor,” I shared.
His head came up from his detangling duties and he grinned at me.
Evie, stop making the man smile, I chastised myself as my breasts swelled in response to that smile. Making him smile is not borderline impolite. It’s FLIRTING.
“It’s all Mo’s,” he informed me. “My shit, after the breakup, I put in storage. When Mo moved in with Mac, he didn’t need this stuff anymore, so I sold my crap, because it was crap, bought his, and before you get any ideas, Mo didn’t pick it either. He engineered a personal shopper, some lady who worked at some furniture store, and she did it.”
“I cannot imagine how it would reflect poorly on Mo that he’s able to select a couch,” I noted.
He looked down to his wires, stating, “Yeah, well, you don’t have a dick.”
“I know many men who come with that equipment who have opinions on couches,” I retorted.
His head came up and he grinned at me again.
Stupid Evie!
I decided it was time to get into his shoulder holster and ammo clips.
“Just to say,” I dipped my head to his chest, “we’re not facing a zombie apocalypse.”
Okay.
What was with me?
It seemed I just couldn’t help myself.
Because he started chuckling, I started reacting to his chuckles in a variety of warm ways in a variety of places in my body, all precisely as I’d intended.
He began to round the island to come to me.
“In my life, I’ve learned you can’t be too safe,” he said dauntingly, then held up the wire that looked, at one end, to have a small microphone, and at the other, a small transmitter.
Uh-oh.
“Danny,” I stated warningly.
I said no more because I didn’t intend to say anything else. I thought my warning tone should suffice.
But more, he appeared like he was going to say something before his head ticked, his gaze on me warmed, his mouth grew soft, and he stared at me for a full five seconds like he was a doting boyfriend and I was his doted-upon girlfriend.
This caused havoc on my insides, and I was grateful to him for finally speaking because it meant I had something else to focus on.
“I’m gonna wire you, Evie, so I can not only see what’s goin’ down but hear it.”
“I don’t think—”
He interrupted me.
“Babe, let me look after you.”
It was then what was happening, what he was intent on doing, and clearly intent on doing thoroughly, fully dawned on me.
And it felt like something had come up from his cement floors and clamped on my feet, rooting me to the spot as I stared up at him.
No one…
Not ever…
In my life…
Had looked after me.
No one.
“Now, I’m not bein’ fresh,” he said, “but I need to reach up your shirt and position this.” He gestured with the microphone. “I get it in place, you hold it there, we’ll tape it and stow the transmitter. You got your shirt untucked at the back, your blazer on, he’ll never see. Yeah?”
I nodded slowly.
“Untuck the front of your tee, Evie,” he ordered.
I did as told.
And, man.
You had to hand it to him.
He ducked his hand under my shirt fast. He then slid the microphone under the clasp at the front of my bra fast as well. And he did all of this staring right into my eyes, his gaze attentive, his manner efficient.
“Hold that, babe,” he murmured.
I lifted a hand and held the microphone in position over my T-shirt.
He pulled his hand out, reached for some tape, ripped off a small piece and then ducked back in.
I took my hand away, Mag kept hold of my eyes as he smoothed the tape over the wire in a practiced manner that took only a few seconds, then his hand was gone.
He gave me the transmitter.
“Hook that to your belt at the back. Turn it on. Cover it with your shirt. I’m gonna go into my room, close the door. We’ll test here and we’ll test again at the location. You’ll switch that on prior to turning into the parking lot. If he’s watching you, I don’t want him to see you anywhere, in or out of your car, reaching to your back. With me?”
I nodded again.
“Turn it on, hook it to your jeans, and go to Mo’s old room.” He indicated a door behind me that was closed.
He then strapped on a minimal, wireless headset that wrapped around the back of his head that did not make him look