of SF guys I know, have them spread the word to their buddies, keep a lookout, give me a heads-up if anyone spots them.”
She nodded. At least they might get some kind of warning if the two men stayed in the area.
Silence began to stretch between them. Neither spoke until town drew near and Bran’s gaze slid back to her.
“You okay?”
Was she okay? Men had been hired to stop her—one way or another—from finding out what had happened to the stolen munitions and clearing her father’s name. Since she had no intention of quitting, no, she wasn’t okay. But she didn’t say that.
“I will be. Once we clear my father’s name.”
“Be smarter to quit before things get worse.”
“You think they will?”
“Good chance they will.”
She fixed him with a stare. “You sticking?”
His mouth faintly curved. “If you are.”
As Jessie leaned back in the seat, she found herself smiling. “Glad that’s settled.”
Bran just shook his head. “Well, you sure as hell aren’t boring.” He flashed one of his devastating grins. “Can’t remember when I’ve had a better time with a lady.”
Jessie scoffed. “Not counting sex,” she said dryly.
His look turned scorching the instant before he glanced away. “Yeah,” he said. “Not counting sex.”
Jessie’s whole body went warm, and in that moment she made a decision.
She decided she was going to seduce him.
FOURTEEN
It was late when they got back to the hotel. Jessie went straight into the bedroom, but Bran was too jacked up to sleep. He rubbed his bruised knuckles and chuckled to imagine what story the two men had told sheriff’s deputies when they arrived to find them tied up like a pair of stuffed turkeys.
He thought about finding a late show on TV, but instead went over to his laptop and downloaded the photos he had taken of the men. A separate picture showed the tattoo on the side of Digger’s neck. A shamrock with 666 inside.
It didn’t take long to find the symbol on Google. Aryan Brotherhood prison tat, not really much of a surprise.
He glanced up as the bedroom door swung open, and Jessie walked into the living room in the short white terry cloth robe she had worn over her swimsuit. A memory of her in the orange-striped bikini popped into his head, and his mouth actually watered.
“Pretty sure the pool is closed,” he said a little gruffly.
Jessie glanced at the clock as if she had no idea it was almost midnight and walked right up beside where he sat in front of his laptop at the dining table.
“That’s too bad.” She smiled. “Since we both enjoy it so much.”
She was tossing his words back in his face. It had been torture to watch her in her tiny bikini and not be able to touch her. But it was sweet torture.
When she didn’t back away, Bran came up out of his chair, which put them just inches apart. “What’s going on?”
Instead of answering, she untied the sash on the robe and let it fall to her feet, leaving her in the orange-striped bikini he fantasized about every night. His pulse kicked up and arousal stirred through him. She had left her hair loose around her shoulders, a mantle of gleaming fire-touched gold. He wanted to run his fingers through it, see if it felt as silky as it looked.
He stood frozen as her palms flattened on his chest and she went up on her toes and settled her mouth over his. A groan locked in his throat, and for an instant he could only stand there, entranced by the feel of those plump pink lips moving over his and the brush of her breasts against his chest. His arousal strengthened, turned rock hard.
The groan broke free as he gave in to the need pounding through his blood and kissed her back, taking control, slanting his mouth over hers, tasting her, allowing himself a few forbidden moments of pleasure.
Then reality struck. This was Danny’s sister. Aside from that, she had suffered enough trauma already. Setting his hands on her shoulders, he eased her away, reluctantly ending the kiss.
“We can’t do this,” he said.
Jessie smiled up at him. “Why not?”
She was so damn pretty with her lips moist from his kiss and her big green eyes liquid with desire. He clamped down on a fresh shot of lust.
“You know why not. You told me yourself you have hang-ups. I don’t want to make them worse.”
“What if you can make them better?”
An idea he had actually considered. “What if I