When He's Dirty (Walker Security Adrian’s Trilogy #1) - Lisa Renee Jones Page 0,14

Go home. We have some busy days ahead of us.”

“What about you?”

There is a punch in my gut at the idea of walking into my house alone. “I’m going to grab another coffee and take some notes before I leave.”

“I can wait.”

“I’m good. Go home.”

She grabs her things and right before she stands, she says, “I’m glad our paths crossed.” She doesn’t wait for a reply. She heads for the door.

I’m a good influence. I doubt Adrian Mack is going to think that when he digs into my history. Which means I can’t count on him to show up. All the more reason to stay awhile and find the holes I need to plug in this case. Leaving my things behind—I’m the only one in here right now—I walk to the counter, pay for another coffee and splurge on a giant iced sugar cookie. I might not have a man in my bed, which is perpetually empty, despite that kiss in the bathroom, but my belly will be full this night. And I can run off the cookie. The wrong man tends to be a bit harder to recover from, as I’ve proven quite decisively.

With my cookie in hand, I turn away from the register and find myself running smack into a hard body. “Oh God. I’m sorry.” My hands land on a hard wall of muscle and I glance up to find Rafael staring down at me, amusement in his brown eyes.

“Don’t be,” he says. “I’m not.”

Chapter Seven

PRI

My beautiful new neighbor is back with his goatee, dark hair, and chiseled features looking better than ever, right here in my favorite coffee shop, standing so close. The mix of masculine spice and freshly baked sugar cookies is ridiculously, unexpectedly erotic. So much so that I have to remind myself that I’ve made an enemy of the King Devil, and who better to send to watch me, set me up, or even kill me than a beautiful monster? He’s also still touching me and I yank my hands back. “I should get my coffee.”

I start to turn and he catches my elbow, and Lord help me, heat rushes up my arm and across my chest. As if that’s not enough, my nipples pucker beneath the lace of my bra. “What just happened?” he asks. “Why are you running from me?”

Damn him for being so perceptive, or maybe damn me for being so obvious. “Nothing. I just wanted to let you order.” He glances at the manager. “Whatever she had,” he says, tossing a twenty on the counter. “Keep the change.”

All the while, he’s still touching me and I don’t know why I’m not pulling away. His attention returns to me, though somehow I feel as if it was always on me, even when he was looking away, his body shifting just enough to shelter me from the manager’s eyes, as he softly asks, “Is this about the kiss?”

“No. Yes. I mean no.” My lashes lower and then lift, “God, what is it about you that makes me forget how to make a point?” I don’t wait for his reply. “It’s not the kiss. The kiss was—” I hesitate, not sure how to finish that sentence, considering where I’m at in my life right now.

He arches a brow. “It was?” he prods, not about to let me off the hook on this one, clearly.

I don’t make him push hard and with good reason. I hate lies and games, so I speak honestly, “Good and bad. The bad is that now is not a good time for this.” I twist away from him, grab my coffee and head to my seat. Once I’m settled behind my computer, I sip my coffee, which is a butterscotch latte. It’s an acquired taste, and I’m aware that Rafael just ordered what I ordered. Somehow, I’m watching as he retrieves his order and I tell myself to look away, I do, but he’s addictive, pure sex. I thought I favored men in suits, but not so much right about now. Now, I seem to favor denim, tattoos peeking from T-shirt sleeves, and boots. His jeans and T-shirt are both dark blue and snug enough that I can appreciate his broad shoulders and perfect ass.

He begins to turn and I quickly eye my computer screen, sipping my coffee. About twenty seconds later, he slides into the seat across from me, setting his cookie and cup on the table. When I look up, I melt in a pool of