deep baritone that does wonderful things for my soul. “Why are you drinking bourbon when you hate hard liquor?”
“It seemed like the polite thing to do.”
“No. Polite was when you opened the bottle because you knew I’d drink it. Good sleuthing, by the way. You’d make an excellent spy.”
I roll my eyes. “It was literally sitting on your table.”
He sits back into the cushion and rests an arm across the back of the sofa. “What else did you notice?”
“Nothing much. You don’t own anything. A few magazines. You’re very neat, organized. You don’t require a lot. Just a bed, sofa, television. Did they come with the place?”
“I bought everything at an estate sale.”
“That explains the painting.” I try another sip, and it burns.
“My mother painted that.”
I almost spit out my drink. “Really? Wow. Well, it’s beautiful, and it explains why it’s in your bachelor pad. How did you get it here?”
He looks down into his glass, swirling the amber liquid and watching it create a mini tornado. “On my way to New York, I passed through Kentucky. Stopped at my parents’ house when they were at work and”—he pauses with a Cheshire cat smile—“stole it.”
I nearly drop my glass, so I put it down on the coffee table. “She must be freaking out! They probably think they were robbed.”
With a laugh, he nods. “She knows it was me. I left a note. Well, more like a sign. I left a bag of Hershey’s Kisses on the table below where it hung. That’s always been our thing. She’d put one in my lunchbox every day when I was growing up. When I was too old to get a packed lunch, she’d sneak them everywhere—in my backpack, my gym bag, my car. When I was sixteen, I had a dime bag of weed in my sock drawer. I went to get it one day and found it gone. In its place was a handful of kisses. She never screamed at me. She just wanted me to know that she knew what I was up to. It was enough for me to stop.”
“That’s really sweet.”
“It was okay. Not like when she pulled the same move when she found a Playboy magazine under my bed. I nearly died with embarrassment. Couldn’t look her in the eye for a week.”
“You got caught with a magazine under your bed? That’s so old school. Who reads Playboy anyway? Doesn’t everyone go to Pornhub?”
His eyes flare with intensity. “Not when you’re fourteen and your parents have every internet restriction on your devices. But please, tell me more about your internet habits.”
I lift my glass and shake my head. “Change of subject.”
That booming laugh of his echoes in my apartment. It sounds extra good, echoing off my walls. “Fine. Tell me what you were like in high school.”
“Easy. Math nerd. Total Goody Two-shoes. Went to school and got a job as soon as I had working papers. I was more into science than parties.”
“Nerds are sexy.”
I lift my chin, happily accepting the compliment. “Thank you. Although boys didn’t think so. Didn’t really date until college. No one intrigued me.”
“Until Anthony,” he says with a point.
“Until Anthony…” I sigh. “Part of me wondered how I’d react when I finally saw him after our breakup. There was a portion of my heart that thought it missed him. I’m happy to know it didn’t.” I smile proudly as I remember how I put him in his place tonight. “What about you? Girlfriends?”
“Many,” he answers easily, and I throw a pillow at him with a laugh. “Don’t hate. I was a wide receiver in a town that idolizes high school football.”
“Break a lot of hearts?”
“A few. It took me a while to realize what I wanted in a woman.” His eyes roam over mine, oozing with arousal.
I swallow and look away. My brow curves as I ask, “Since you’ve been undercover, have you been with anyone? What I mean is, am I the first …”
He sits up and lifts his knuckle to my chin, forcing me to keep my head from falling in despair. “I’ve never had a relationship of any kind with anyone since I joined the FBI. The risk was never worth the reward. Not until you.”
“Why me? Of all people, why am I worth possibly throwing away everything you’ve worked for?”
“Turns out, I like nerds.”
I lift my eyes to the ceiling as I smile. He takes my drink and places it back on the table along with his. In one