Date with the FBI (Phoenix Police Book 1)

by Liv Brooks

  Date with the FBI

  Liv Brooks

  Copyright © 2019 by Liv Brooks

  Date with the FBI

  By Liv Brooks

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Contents

  1. Michelle

  2. Damien

  Michelle

  3. Damien

  Michelle

  Damien

  4. Michelle

  Damien

  5. Michelle

  Damien

  6. Damien

  Michelle

  7. Damien

  Michelle

  Also by Liv Brooks

  Thanks for reading!

  1

  Michelle

  I tug at the end of my dark brown ponytail. It’s my version of chewing my nails. Not attractive, but I’m getting increasingly desperate. My sister’s wedding is this weekend, and I just found out that the guy I dumped six months ago, after three years, is coming…with his fiancée.

  The girl he cheated on me with. Because of course.

  I can’t even get mad at my sister for inviting him because he’s the groom’s closest cousin.

  So, Katie and I came up with Plan ‘Make Jason Jealous By Bringing A Hot Man’. Except since it’s such short notice, everyone’s busy. Currently, the plan is without a Hot Man.

  “We’ll find you someone,” Katie assures me. She reaches out and pats my arm. I just look at her. It took me long enough to get this weekend off call, and now I may just skip everything but the wedding itself and hide.

  “I’ve already asked—”

  “Everyone in the department, I know.” Katie is grinning, and it’s a grin I fear. There’s something to her face that tells me I’m in trouble. “What about Damien?”

  I’m sure I look like a deer in the headlights. “Damien?” I try and look confused. “Do we know a Damien?”

  Katie gives me a no-nonsense look.

  Unfortunately, I do know who she’s talking about. Damien is my worst nightmare. He’s six-foot-too-much, broad-shouldered, and looks like an underwear model. He’s also a cop-turned-FBI-agent who used to work here, so he drops by frequently.

  After making a fool of myself the first time I tried to talk to him, I’ve just avoided him whenever he drops by. Katie, the outgoing one, has talked to him. It’s not I’m shy—I’m a homicide detective. I talk to a ton of people. But Damien? Damien ties my tongue into a knot and makes me trip over my own feet. I don’t make sense around him.

  “I heard my name?” The devil himself speaks.

  I stare at Katie, sure my eyes just popped out of my head. I don’t want to turn around, because I can tell he’s standing behind me.

  “She’s looking for a fake date to her sister’s wedding,” Katie the Traitor explains, a wide smile on her face. “I suggested you.”

  “When is it?”

  I almost fall over my feet in my haste to face him. “Don’t worry about it,” I assure him. “I don’t want to bother you—”

  “It’s this weekend,” Katie says. “They’re staying at the hotel up by Flagstaff for the weekend, but it’s already paid for and everything.”

  I’m staring up at his blue eyes, trying not to look as surprised as I feel. His smile when he looks at me is warm. “Sure.”

  “What?” He…he didn’t just say yes. Right?

  He shrugs. “I have this weekend off,” he says. “And I don’t mind being your eye candy.” He winks.

  Katie’s laughing fit to burst. I just want to melt and die.

  “Perfect,” Katie says, patting my shoulder. “Her asshole ex is going to be there with his fiancee, so the plan is to make him insanely jealous. Be all over her.” Katie’s grin widens.

  “You didn’t have to mention that part,” I hiss at her.

  Katie just looks at me. “You wouldn’t.”

  I rub my fingers across my forehead, my shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry,” I say as I turn to Damien. “She was clearly dropped on the head a few times when she was little.”

  He chuckles. My eyes skim his body without much conscious input from my brain. His light-blue button-up fits him perfectly, showing enough of the muscle underneath to make me drool without looking painted on. His black slacks accentuate the length of his legs. He’s huge, all man. He looks to-die for.

  Unfortunately for me, my body has figured out what’s going in and joined in on the torment. My legs are quivering and I’m so wet that it’s probably soaked through my panties. I want to touch myself so badly, but I can’t.

  “Are you sure?” I ask, dragging my eyes back to his face even though it turns my insides to jelly.

  “Of course.” His smile widens. Then he holds a hand out. “Give me your phone.”

  Mutely I do, hoping the background picture isn’t anything too embarrassing. It’s probably one of me and Katie.

  Whatever it is, he chuckles to himself before he types something in. I hear a buzz from his pocket. “There,” he says, handing the phone back to me. “This way I have your number and you have mine.”

  My cheeks flush. At least one of us is smooth, I guess.

  “Send him your address,” Katie adds.

  I glare at her. “What?” I hiss under my breath.

  She rolls her eyes. “Calm down, girlie,” she says, patting my shoulder. “How can he pick you up if he doesn’t know where you live?”

  “I can drive,” I say immediately.

  He reaches out and takes my hand from where it’s by my side, then squeezes it. “Nah. I’ve been dying to drive in the countryside for a while. I’ll drive.”

  I stare at my hand in his. He probably thinks I’m the most awkward girl in the history of awkward girls, but I genuinely am not sure what to do. Even my ex didn’t treat me like this. He wasn’t an asshole, but Damien is just…

  In a league of his own.

  His phone beeps again, and he grimaces. He lets go of my hand to pull his phone out of his pocket and looks at the screen with a sigh. “I have to take this,” he says, and he legitimately sounds regretful. “Text me the address and time, okay?” He’s looking straight at me.

  “Okay,” I say when Katie nudges me in the ribs with my elbow.

  He gives me one of those deadly smiles before he turns and walks to the other part of the department.

  I turn to look at Katie, who has the biggest shit-eating grin on her face. “How long was he standing there?”

  “The whole time,” she says with a pat of my shoulder. “It’s okay. You two are meant for each other.”

  “What?” I’m half red, half flabbergasted. “Where’d you get that idea?”

  I like my body, don’t get me wrong. I’m curvy, plus I run and stay in shape. It’s just the shape my body wants to be. I don’t even mind it when I have to wear two sports bras to keep from knocking myself out with my boobs.

  Okay, maybe I mind it a little. I’m not stick-skinny and I never will be. Damien looks like he belongs on a magazine cover with a woman as gorgeous as he is. Not someone like me.

  “When you’re not looking at him, he looks at you like he wants to eat you.” Katie’s grin turns wicked. “I’ve been waiting to do this for a while.”

  I scrub my hand over my face, trying to melt down into my desk. “Maybe I just won’t go
to the wedding after all.”

  Katie snorts. “Good luck with that.”

  I sigh. She’s right. I don’t have a choice.

  2

  Damien

  When I said yes, I wasn’t exactly expecting the three-hour car ride to be as painful as it was. Not that I didn’t like being with her—it’s the opposite. I’ve been in love with Michelle since I saw her. But driving with a hard-on for three hours while pretending to not have a hard-on is not my favorite afternoon activity.

  We’re pulling into the hotel parking lot when I see her relax for the first time. I do wonder if she doesn’t like me. I seem to make her nervous. The first time I saw her, she dropped her coffee mug and it spilled all over the papers she was carrying.

  Her flustered face was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen and it made me want to see more of it. And more of her.

  I’d started dropping by the department more often, but she would always hang on the edges and I didn’t want to pressure her.

  “Park right there,” Michelle says, pointing to one of the spots.

  “Got it.” I pull in, hiding a grimace. I’m not looking forward to standing up. I haven’t popped a boner this easily since I was fifteen, and it’s awkward as hell to hide one next to a pretty girl like her.

  She’s easily the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. She’s got dark brown hair and standoffish grey eyes, but there’s a sensualness to her sharp features that turns her from intimidating to confident. She’s also short, cute as a button, and has curves that go for days. Her breasts are full, her hips wide. She’s strong under it all, too. I’ve seen her come into the department after a run, sweaty and exhausted but still making me want to strip her clothes off and ravish her.

  When I park, she gets out first. I take a few moments, trying to breathe deeply and think of unsexy things. Like naked grandparents. Or hockey.

  By the time we’re inside with our bags, I’m only holding them in front of me as an extra security measure. I’m watching Michelle talk to the front desk lady. Michelle’s eyebrows are knit together, confusion first. Then understanding slowly dawns. She glances back at me like I’ve turned into a snake about to bite her.

  I have no idea what’s going on, but I enjoy just getting to watch her. She comes over to me, a wide fake smile on her face. “Excuse me for a moment.” She grabs her phone and stalks off about ten feet away. I turn and move just enough that I can hear her.

  I’m curious, I’ll admit it.

  She jabs at the phone and then puts it to her ear, scowling. “Do you think you’re funny?” she says the moment someone answers.

  A pause, and then she rubs her forehead. “You’re not—”

  Another pause.

  Her cheeks flush. “I am not going to tap that. Stay out of my sex life!”

  Now I’m extra curious who she’s talking to. And who she’s talking about. She shoots me a sideways glance and moves further away, as if she can tell I can hear. I just give her an innocent smile.

  Eventually the call ends with another jab of her finger against the phone, and she’s gripping it so tightly her knuckles are white. She heads back over to me, apparently too embarrassed to face me, so she stares at my feet. “I’m so sorry.”

  I wait.

  She sighs and runs a hand through her hair, pulling out the elastic band of her ponytail. She lifts her head up, but instead of looking at my face she looks to the side. Her dark hair frames her face, a slight wave from being held by the band. “My sister thought she was being hilarious, and only booked us a room with a single, and I was trying to get another room but they’re apparently booked out.”

  “And?”

  Michelle gives me a puzzled look, like she expected a different reaction. “Look, I don’t want you to think I did it on purpose, because I didn’t.”

  “Shame,” I say.

  Her mouth opens and closes like a fish, like she can’t figure out exactly what to say. Instead she pulls her hair back up, wrapping the band around her hair with practiced motions. She’s good with her hands.

  “Room number?” I ask, shifting the bags from one hand to the other.

  I’ll be the gentleman and sleep on the floor if she wants me to, but otherwise, I’m going to take advantage of having just one bed. It certainly makes things easier. Tomorrow I’ll have to find her sister and thank her.

  She gives me the room number and we head towards the elevator. She leads the way to the room in silence, tapping her fingers on her gorgeous thighs and not looking at me.

  Once she uses the keycard to open the door, I drop the bags just inside and catch her hand. She turns to look at me with wide eyes.

  Michelle

  He’s staring at me and my head is a second away from exploding. I could kill Rebecca, booking us just one room. Not just one room, but one room with one bed.

  “If this bothers you, I can stay somewhere else,” Damien says, and he sounds serious. He’s looking at me like he cares, like he wants to make sure I’m comfortable.

  “I should be saying that to you,” I say uncertainly.

  He shrugs. “There are worse things than sharing a bed with a sexy woman.”

  I almost turn to look behind me when he says that, just in case he’s talking about someone else. When I catch myself and look at him, he’s got an eyebrow raised. “I thought I heard something,” I say in the lamest of lame excuses.

  His eyes tell me he doesn’t buy it, but he’ll let me get away with it for now. “So what are our plans?”

  I glance at the clock. “We should probably get dinner,” I say, and I put a hand on my stomach when it grumbles. I was so nervous I skipped lunch, and I’m a girl who likes her food.

  Hanger is real, folks.

  He nods amicably. “Sounds good.” He picks up the bags and moves them in further, as casual as if he was strolling down a boulevard. For a huge guy, he’s graceful, and it’s mesmerizing to watch. Then he bends over, and my eyes zero in on his butt.

  It’s a nice butt. And I say that as someone who’s seen far too many of them in my career, both clothed and not.

  It takes me too long to drag my eyes back up to his face, because when I do, he’s grinning at me. “Like what you see?”

  I freeze before darting forward and grabbing my bag from in front of him. “Here, I’ll put mine over here.”

  “You can look, you know,” he says, his voice a pleasant rumble. “I don’t mind.”

  I stop and stare at him. “You don’t have to practice, you know.” I swallow over the lump in my throat. That’s what it is. “You just have to pretend to be my date for a few events.”

  Something crosses over his face that I can’t—or don’t want to—read. Then it slides off and he’s smiling again. “Don’t worry about that.” He stands and settles his stuff on the chair he’s taken. Then he reaches out a hand for me. “Ready?”

  I take a deep breath and head towards the door, leaving him and his hand behind. He’s going to kill me, tempting me like that.

  Still, when we’re down in the front lobby, he places his hand on my lower back to guide me. I swallow thickly, shivers darting down my spine and my lower belly heating up. It’s ridiculous what he can do to me with just a touch.

  I can’t help but wonder what it would be like for real, him wanting me. Touching me like I mattered, like he loved me. Seeing him at home after a long day of work and him making me forget all about it as we get lost in each other.

  He’s talking to the waiter at the hotel restaurant when I try and shake myself out of it. It’s just dinner, I tell myself. Everything else is a fantasy. There’s a lot of complicated emotions in my heart when I follow him and the waiter. It’s not real.

  But God, do I want it to be.

  3

  Damien

  I stifle my groan as I come in the shower, panting. She’s killing me and I’ve only been here two hours. The way she looks at me, the way she bites her lips. Even the way she looks at the fucking menu turns me on.


  How can someone be sexy just looking at a menu?

  But the way she looks at me makes me hesitate. She watches me like she’s a flighty bird, like one wrong move and she’ll run and not return. I crave her. I want her. I need to run my hands over every inch of her skin under her clothes, taste every bit of her perfect body. I need her more than I’ve needed anything in my life.

  I need her to see how perfect we would be together.

  The hot water beats down my back as I stand there, trying to figure out what to do. I squeeze the base of my shaft, wondering how many times I need to jerk off in order to get it to behave. I doubt she would appreciate being woken up with my hard dick pressed into her back.

  That would be one way to get her attention. But it’s not me that matters.

  I’m not sure what she thinks of me. There is the way she looks at me, sometimes, when she thinks I’m not looking. There’s a longing there, a nervousness. But when I turn to her, that look vanishes, replaced by her guarded expression.

  With a sigh, I turn off the shower. I’ve already taken long enough as it is. I wrap the towel around my waist and step out, staring at the fogged mirror. My skin is reddened from the hot water, and the cold air is bracing.

  Well, that’s one way to get rid of a boner.

  I leave the bathroom with just the towel around my waist. I purposefully didn’t bring clothes with me to the bathroom, just so I could do this.

  “I’m done,” I say, turning to smile at her when I walk by her. She’s reading a book on the bed, and her eyes flicker up and then catch sight of what I’m wearing. Or not wearing, rather.