A Dangerously Sexy Affair

by Stefanie London

  “I’ll have a beer,” Aiden said.

  Carmela nodded, retreating and traversing the busy restaurant as nimbly as a cat. Quinn sighed. “I don’t think she’s used to pink-haired people in here.”

  “Lucky you don’t have any tattoos.”

  “I could have tattoos.” Her pale fingers dug into the sweet curve of her shoulder as she massaged the muscle there.

  “Unless you’ve gotten it in the last week and a bit, I doubt it. I’ve seen every inch of you, in case you don’t remember.”

  Just like that his concentration vanished in a puff of smoke. It served him right for trying to bait her. There was no point sending Rhys an email now; he’d have to do it after they finished up tonight because thinking about Quinn’s naked body was counterproductive to other things he needed to do...such as stringing a coherent sentence together.

  You’re letting her mess with your focus. This is your chance. You don’t want to make Logan regret the day he brought you in.

  “So...” She sucked on the inside of her cheek. “How did the interviews go today?”

  “Good.” He rubbed a hand over his face, hoping it might wipe clean the memories of Quinn crying out his name. Getting a grip wasn’t usually such a problem. “Nothing concrete yet, but I’ve got a few things to follow up on.”

  They paused the conversation as Carmela arrived with their drinks and a couple of menus. Quinn was starving, so they ordered right away.

  Waiting until Carmela had left the table, Aiden asked Quinn, “How was Zach after he got back from the interview?”

  “He didn’t give me anything. Well, nothing useful anyway. He had his rant and then I decided to work in the kitchen to see if anyone else was talking about you.”

  “And?”

  “Lots of speculation but no confessions.”

  The scent of basil and garlic wafted through the air, and his stomach rumbled. “I doubt they’re going to come out with it that easily.”

  “Maybe.” She sipped her water. “But there’s something going on. I overheard the guy in the Hawaiian shirt on the phone. He thought I had my headphones in but I could hear him. His conversation sounded suspicious.”

  “Hawaiian shirt?” He lifted the beer glass to his lips and relished the taste on his tongue as he tried to remember the guy’s name. “Yeah, Chris something. I interviewed him today. What did he say?”

  “He thought you might be a cop, and he said you were asking questions. He seemed nervous and then he said something about information being confidential.” Her adorable nose scrunched up as she paused. “He said he was going to get the person something, but he didn’t say what.”

  “Interesting.”

  “How was he in the interview?”

  “Nervous, but most of them were. Sometimes that comes across as anger or resistance. Sometimes people just have sweaty palms and shiny foreheads.”

  Quinn leaned forward, open curiosity on her pixie face. “Which one was he?”

  “Definitely sweaty palms.” Aiden laughed. “I thought he’d put a hole in his jeans by how many times he rubbed his palms on them.”

  “Gross.”

  The conversation flowed easily between them as they traded tidbits of their day. But it was obvious that they didn’t have anything solid to take to Rhys, and it had been almost a week since Quinn had started at Third Planet. He knew some assignments took a while to break and they hadn’t been at it long, but he’d been told to wrap this one up quickly, and he wasn’t about to disappoint his new boss.

  Getting some runs on the ground would make it clear that he was there because he deserved to be, not because of his relationship with Logan. A memory bubbled up to the surface, a wisecrack his old boss at the FBI had made once about him being the boy with the silver spoon. The “prize pooch” they’d called him as though he were nothing but an animal trained to do and say whatever his father said.

  Aiden shoved the memory aside as the food arrived at their table. Without hesitating, he drove his fork into the pile of linguini carbonara and twisted, the wrapped strands creating a tight bundle of delicious cheesy, eggy goodness.

  “This is amazing,” Quinn said through a mouthful of her amatriciana. “I guess I can forgive the old lady’s death stare.”

  “One, it wasn’t a death stare. And two, why are you so concerned about what other people think?”

  “I’m not.” She stabbed her fork into the mound of pasta, sending a little spray of sauce over the edge of the bowl.

  “I thought you didn’t lie.”

  She chewed, her cheeks puffed out with the generous forkful. A dot of red sauce decorated the side of her lip, and he had to stop himself from leaning forward to catch it with his tongue. Even eating like a ravenous teenage boy, she was sexy as hell.

  “I don’t care what people think. Doesn’t mean I don’t wish things were different.” She chased a slippery piece of bacon with her fork. “Sometimes I wonder if I’d be better off if I blended in.”

  “Don’t blend in.” Awareness thrummed through his body, lighting him up like a carnival at night. Saturating him in the color and vibrancy of her. “I couldn’t imagine you without your pink hair and all that attitude.”

  “I get tired of people assuming I’m not serious.”

  The vulnerability of her words struck him square in the chest. She may pride herself in being truthful, but she was rarely totally honest and open with people...at least from what he’d seen. And here she was, cracking open the wall around her. Letting him peek inside at the real Quinn.

  He wanted more.

  “Why do you think people assume you’re not serious?”

  She drummed her fingers on the table. “I guess they see this woman with pink hair and baggy T-shirts and assume I’m a dumb chick who doesn’t know anything. That I’m going through a phase by being the way I am. It’s not a phase...it’s just me.”

  “Prickly as hell and damn proud of it.”

  A smile spread across her lips. “I’m not always prickly.”

  The hint of sensuality in her words tugged at the core of him, letting his attraction to her burst through like water crashing over a dam. Unleashed and furious. Untamable.

  Damn, she was hot. He didn’t want to be attracted to her—she had baggage for days, and getting involved with a colleague was definitely not a good idea so early on in his new job. But Lord help him, he wanted her. Every quirky, sexy bit.

  He shifted in his seat. “Yes, you do have the ability to turn down the prickle factor.”

  “I never used to be like this, you know.” She attacked another mouthful of pasta, as if keeping her mouth busy would stop the confessions from coming out.

  “Why did you change?”

  The haunted look that crossed over her face—like a ghost sucking the life out of her—twisted something in his chest. He wanted to know who had caused that look so he could track down the son of a bitch and take him out. He wanted to slay her demons.

  What is wrong with you? Have you forgotten the bit where you determined that the job needed to come first? Keep it in your pants and get back to work.

  “Let’s just say that there’s a reason I don’t trust people. The last time I did, something really bad happened.”

  And she had him. Hook. Line. Sinker. “What happened?”

  “I might tell you one day, Aiden. You seem less messed up than everyone else, but that doesn’t mean I trust you yet.” Her eyes were guarded, wary. But he understood her need to protect herself; he respected it.

  “We’re a team, you know that, right?”

  She nodded. “Yes, and you’re in charge. So we might be a team, but we’re not equal.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “Kinda.” A thoughtful expression swept over her face. “I’m used to being
an underdog. My mom was an underdog, too. We didn’t have a lot when I was growing up. She worked two jobs and I didn’t see her much. But I studied hard and ended up at Cobalt & Dane. In her eyes I’d made it big by getting a degree and a real job.”

  “But you don’t agree with that?”

  “I’ve been fixing people’s printers and resetting passwords for four years.” She cast him a rueful smile. “Not that there’s anything wrong with doing that, but I’ve done my time. I’m smarter than that.”

  “Isn’t that why Rhys put you on this assignment? To give you a chance to step up?”

  “I wanted your job. I applied for it, but I wasn’t good enough.”

  This wasn’t news to him; she’d told him about it already. But now it dawned on him that he’d flown in without so much as a formal interview because the boss wanted him. Just like he’d gotten into the FBI because of his father and then advanced because of the Odell legacy.

  In his mind, this was a different situation. Logan had come to him, not the other way around. He wasn’t accepting a handout. But would Quinn see it that way? Part of him wanted to lock that information up tight. The other part of him knew how she would react if she found out from anyone besides him.

  Time to man up and spit out the truth.

  “There’s something I have to tell you,” he said, setting down his fork.

  “Okay.” She watched him warily.

  “Logan Dane is a close personal friend of mine. He’s been asking me to join Cobalt & Dane for a while, over twelve months.” He paused to let that information sink in. Judging by the way her eyes widened, she hadn’t known or suspected his connection to Logan. “I don’t believe that information is common knowledge but I wanted to tell you because you mentioned applying for this position. I didn’t want you to think that you didn’t get the job simply because you weren’t good enough, as you said.”

  Silence. She toyed with her cutlery, her eyes lowered to her plate.

  “And, since you’ve made it clear that honesty is important to you, I wanted to do the right thing.”

  “Thank you,” she said, her voice almost lost in the restaurant din. “So people at the office don’t know you’re friends with Logan?”

  “I don’t think so.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “It’s not a secret exactly, but I want a chance to put a few runs on the board before it gets out. Some people may assume I only got the job because of my friendship with Logan and not because of my experience or skills.”

  “They probably would assume that.” She nodded.

  “It’s not true. Logan wanted to hire me because of what I can do and because he trusts me.” His stomach churned as Quinn’s eyes moved slowly over him. Assessing. Judging. Would she be like everybody else? “And I couldn’t stay at the FBI anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  He had to force himself not to grind his teeth. “My father was the head of Intelligence. He always had a say in what work I was doing, what team I was assigned to...it was stifling. I couldn’t get any respect for my own work because everyone believed any success I had was because of him.”

  Her eyes softened. “That would suck.”

  “Yeah, so I understand the frustration of trying to prove yourself. I get why you would be pissed that I got this position when you wanted it.”

  A smile curved her pink lips. “Yeah, I am still kind of pissed.”

  “But you won’t hold it against me?”

  “I can’t. Not your fault you’re a ‘better fit’ for the job than me,” she said, making quotation marks with her fingers. “But we’ll kick butt on this assignment and then I’ll get my promotion.”

  “I hope you do,” he said, and he meant it.

  10

  THE MINUTES HAD ticked by slowly as Quinn finished her meal, shoving the last forkful of pasta between her lips. What was it about Aiden Odell that made her want to spill her guts?

  Perhaps it was because he’d opened up to her, too. As much as she hated that he’d been handed her job on a silver platter—while she had to fight to prove herself—he was being honest with her. What if he really had been about to tell her the truth the night they met?

  “What are you thinking?” His deep voice broke her concentration.

  “Just getting up in my own head.”

  “You do that a lot, don’t you?”

  A smile pulled at her lips. “And you don’t?”

  “Touché.” His eyes crinkled at their corners. “But you can tell me what’s going on. I can’t be the only one getting all deep and meaningful tonight.”

  God, he looked so damn sexy. So at ease in his environment, like he belonged. She had to fight the urge to reach across the table and run her fingertips along his stubble-roughened jaw.

  She was sick of being scared, sick of wanting sex and then feeling guilty for it. Sick of denying herself because some creep had screwed her over.

  But how could she admit that she’d been dumb enough not to notice her boyfriend—the one who’d supposedly loved her—was streaming video of them having sex to a bunch of people? Not to mention what had happened in the aftermath...

  She squeezed her eyes shut.

  “Quinn?” Aiden placed his hand over hers and she forced herself not to flinch.

  “I want to be normal,” she whispered.

  As she wrenched her gaze away from the floor and up to him, she’d expected to see pity. Sympathy. Panic, even.

  But what she got was something else entirely. Anger blazed in his eyes like a house fire, terrifying and out of control. All consuming.

  The silence absorbed her. For a moment she wondered if he could see what had happened flickering across her face like an old reel of film. Revealing her deepest, darkest secrets.

  “Someone hurt you,” he said. Not a question, a simple statement.

  “Yes.” She reached over the table and grabbed his beer, bringing it to her lips and downing it in one long swig. Desperate to drown out the voices telling her she was headed straight for danger. “That’s where I learned that I can’t trust people.”

  She was through with people like Zach the Horrible intimidating her, through with missing out on something she’d loved so much before the webcam incident. Sleeping with Aiden that first night had been a step forward, a test to see if she could change.

  A test she’d passed.

  “Will you take me home?” She held her breath, watching the uncertainty mixing with lust in his expression. He had hungry eyes, but a wary mouth. “Then you can come up to my apartment.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Quinn.”

  “We can play ‘Mario Kart.’” She pushed back from the table and reached for her bag. “Or are you afraid I’ll win?”

  He laughed. “Never.”

  “If it’s because we’re working together—”

  “It’s not just that.” He braced his hands on the arms of the old-fashioned dining chair, and for a moment she thought he’d stay seated. But he didn’t.

  “Are you not attracted to me?”

  “That’s not it, and you know it.” He pulled his wallet—a beat-up leather thing that was flat as a pancake—out of his back pocket and threw a few bills onto the table, waving her away when she reached for her own money.

  “I’m not letting you foot the whole bill,” she said.

  “It’s a work dinner. I’ll expense it.”

  He waited for her to walk past and she did, awkwardly ambling between the tables with her backpack in front of her so she wouldn’t accidentally bump anyone. The old Italian woman who’d brought their drinks earlier watched them leave, her hooded eyes unabashedly curious. Quinn made a point of not making eye contact with her. She didn’t care what other people thought...and maybe if she repeated that mantra enough times i
t would stick.

  “This place means something to you, doesn’t it?” she said as they waited on the side of the road for a cab. “The restaurant, I mean.”

  “Yeah, I used to come here a lot as a kid. The people who own this place are practically family.” He looked as if he was going to say something else, but he didn’t.

  When the cab pulled up, he held the door for her—the—perfect gentleman. She scooted across the backseat and he climbed in next to her. He seemed to take up all the space, and the air around him vibrated.

  “What’s your family like?” Quinn asked, fiddling with the bag cradled in her lap.

  He snorted. “Next question.”

  “That bad, huh?” When he didn’t respond, she punched him lightly in the arm. “Come on, you told me about the thing with Logan. Why get all closed up now?”

  The streetlights flickered over his face as the cab whisked them away from the restaurant. “My father’s a control freak who was more concerned about his legacy at the FBI than about his son.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “After we found out that I couldn’t maintain my position with the FBI police department because of my hearing, I wanted to take a break.” He stared out the window, his eyes distant. “I wanted to give myself some time to plan my next move. To assess what my injury meant to all my career aspirations.”

  “But he didn’t agree?”

  “No. He had me shoved into a new position at the FBI as quickly as possible. He couldn’t stand the thought that I might not follow in his precious footsteps.” He let out a bitter laugh. “And God forbid that anyone might think the son of Graham Odell had a moment of weakness.”

  “How did he react when you decided to leave?”

  “That argument could have woken the dead. He said I was being a quitter and I was being disloyal to the FBI and everything he’d done to help set me up there.” He paused. “We haven’t spoken much since.”

  “That’s sad.”

  Aiden shrugged. “We didn’t have the best relationship before this, so it’s nothing new.”

  “Don’t tell me that you don’t want a relationship with him.” She reached out and touched his thigh. “I won’t believe that for a second.”