Countdown To A Kiss A New Year's Eve Anthology

Countdown To A Kiss A New Year's Eve Anthology Page 24

The Grub Pub was warm, noisy and smelled of fried food and beer, two of Leo's favorite things. He stepped inside the restaurant, a homey mix of vinyl-topped tables and roomy booths, and took a deep breath. It didn't help. He still couldn't get Devine's scent out of his head. Her skin had smelled faintly of lemon and a tantalizing hint of some spice. He'd wanted to bury his nose in the spot where her neck met her shoulder and breathe her in.

Which was so fucking wrong.

Devine was...Devine. His friend, his colleague and the woman who had wormed her way under every damn protective shield he'd erected. He'd known he was in trouble her first day at the field office when he'd looked up from a conversation with Carter and had seen her stride into the room with the confidence and graceful rhythm of an athlete. Carter's voice, the noise of the office, had faded. For a moment, there had been just her--a smiling woman with hair the color of spiced rum and a face filled with intelligence and curiosity. Then Carter had touched his arm and the world came back into focus. Thankfully, weird shit like that had never happened again.

Sometimes, though, he caught himself thinking about her when they were apart, wanting to share a joke, wondering about her opinion on certain situations. Wondering how that hair would feel under his fingers and across his chest. How that body would feel beneath him.

He pulled his brain up short and forced himself to remember another woman he'd worked with, Katherine Dill. Immediately, guilt and pain knotted in his chest. His hand groped into his pocket and he felt the reassuring weight of his phone. Hawk was on speed dial. He'd never called him. But he could. If he needed to, he could.

Leo flexed his shoulders and relaxed his tense muscles. Devine was an excellent agent with a whip-smart brain. He liked and respected her. Nothing more. And she regarded him as one of the guys, no different than any other man on the squad. Which was exactly what he wanted.

Except, she'd licked his neck.

"Leo!"

He turned at the sound of his name and walked toward the large double booth crowded with the squad and a few of their significant others. Mandy Jenkins, a beautiful blonde lawyer in the Justice Department, scooted over to make a spot for him. They'd been seeing each other for a few weeks. This was her first time at the Pub and, while she had only met a few members of the squad, she seemed comfortable with the group. She was sophisticated, yet warm and friendly, exactly the type of woman he liked. She rested her perfectly manicured nails on his arm and he stared at her hand, seeing Grace's slender, strong fingers and short, naked nails.

What was it about naked nails that made him hard?

"Leo." Mandy snapped her fingers in his face with a laugh. "Are you all right?"

He shook his head and smiled. "Sorry, my mind was still on work." He looked down the length of the booth. "Did I get here before Devine?"

Lisa Roberts, the only other woman on the squad, snorted. "Nope. Michael Wolfram snatched her up the minute she walked through the door." She leaned forward, a gleam in her eyes. "Could our newbie have a secret boyfriend?"

Roberts was the squad's prime source of office gossip. Leo thought the woman was wasted on them and should have been placed in Intelligence. If the CIA had recruited her years ago, there was no way Bin Laden would have stayed hidden for so long. Roberts heard everything, sometimes before people even said it.

She gave a sigh and raised her beer. "Wolfram looks like the Swedish GQ version of a special agent. We should use him on recruitment brochures for the Bureau." She nodded to a point over Leo's shoulder. "The two of them are seated at that booth over there."

Leo didn't turn his head. Wolfram had mentored Devine in the Chicago office, her first assignment out of the Academy. He was in Washington for a couple of months to receive additional training at Quantico. Word was also circulating that Wolfram was forming a special task force to go after one of the most hated domestic terrorist groups in the country. A long line of agents would give their eyeteeth to be part of that team. Wolfram could choose from the cream of the crop.

"You could be right, Roberts." Roy Baxter, one of Leo's oldest friends in the Bureau, blew a silent whistle. "Our skirt is looking mighty friendly with the Big Bad." His eyes narrowed. "Shit, that table is full of HBOs. She's moving in elevated circles."

Telling himself he was curious about the High Bureau Officials, Leo turned to look. At the far end of the room, he saw the back of Devine's head. Her ponytail was gone and her hair looked thick and shiny under the Pub's bright lights. She was seated in a booth on the same side of the table as Wolfram, their shoulders touching on a seat that had plenty of extra room. She tilted her head back as he watched and she laughed--a clear, happy sound that cut through the chatter and noise of the bar. Wolfram bent his blond head and whispered something in her ear. David Carter, their squadron leader, sat on the other side of the table along with Jim McDonald, the ADIC and Teri Murphy, an Assistant Special Agent in Charge. Not that Wolfram and Devine were paying much attention to anyone else.

It was a day of discovery about Devine. She had two men dangling from her string, Kampmueller and Wolfram.

It was also a day of discovery about himself. He didn't like it.

Mandy's hand covered the fist resting on his thigh. "Hard day?" she murmured in his ear.

He breathed in her light, floral scent. "I don't think I'm going to be good company tonight. I'm more tired than I thought."

She ran a nail along his knuckles. "Want to go home and have an early night?"

The invitation was clear. They hadn't slept together yet and she meant for tonight to be the night. Leo looked down into her face and felt absolutely nothing except a dull thread of pain that snaked through his head and began to throb at his temples. Great. He could just imagine telling Mandy he didn't want sex because he had a headache. He looked toward Baxter, sitting across the table from him.

Baxter lifted a surprised eyebrow, but shrugged. "Devine wear you out with all those hip flips, Ramos?" He easily joined the conversation as he poured a beer from the pitcher on the table and shoved it in front of Leo. "That woman is a tiger. What our boy needs is some food," he said to Mandy, as if he hadn't picked up the subtext in her invitation. "He'll feel better in no time."

"Food." Leo grabbed the menu he knew by heart. "That's exactly what I need." He was hungry. That was the reason for the headache, the burn in his belly.

A hum of awareness at the back of his neck pulled his gaze to Devine as she wove through the tables toward them, her fluid stride mesmerizing. Her brown leather jacket hung open over a pair of tight jeans and a soft-looking yellow sweater. Brown leather boots reached to her knees. Her smile took in the table. "I'm about to head for home." She ruffled Baxter's hair in an affectionate gesture. "Some of us put in extra work and trained late."

"I'll have you know we've been working hard at hoisting these beers while you and Ramos probably spent half the time on your backs in the Pit." Baxter swiped imaginary sweat off his brow.

"Please." Devine crossed her arms and shot Leo a mischievous grin. "Ramos spent most of the time on his back. I got my daily deltoid reps just helping him up."

She was teasing him, treating him just the way she always did. He stared at her silently and her smile faltered.

"Hold on, Devine." Roberts leaned over past Baxter. While Devine was one of the guys, Roberts was all female. She wore a snug cashmere sweater, her red hair and makeup perfect despite the fact that she, too, had come from the Pit. "You can't leave without giving us the scoop on the Big Bad. You've been holding out on us, girl."

"The Big Bad?" Devine looked confused.

"The Big Bad Wolfram." Roberts fanned herself.

Devine's smile widened again and she glanced over her shoulder to the table where Wolfram still sat. "Wish I'd thought of that handle. He was my supervisor at the Chicago field office. He's a good buddy."

"You've got a lot of those," Leo commented.

"What can I say?" Devine shrugged. "Men just fall at my feet, wanting to be my pal. I think it has something to do with the fact that I'm the only woman they know who can tell them which college football team signed the best recruiting class this year."

Roberts snorted.

"Hey," Baxter began, forgetting to take a swig of the beer almost at his lips.

"Alabama," Devine answered before he could ask. "They just got a commitment from Rodney Stark, a five-star running back out of Plainview, Illinois. Everyone was sure he'd go to Notre Dame." She shifted, stuck her hands in her jacket pockets. Leo felt the weight of her gaze. "Ramos, can I talk to you privately for a moment?" She smiled an apology at Mandy. "I won't keep him but a minute. Work consult."

Ramos didn't want to be alone with her right now. Not until he could safely cage this damn inappropriate possessiveness. The thought of Devine with Wolfram or Kampmueller shouldn't make him want to bash heads.

She shifted her weight again, a frown beginning to form when he continued to say nothing. Then she cleared her throat, a vulnerable sound that socked him in the stomach. Hell. He wasn't going to embarrass her with his rudeness, just because he was a damaged prick who wanted what he couldn't have.

He rose from the suddenly quiet table, aware of the curious eyes that followed them to an empty two-seater tucked against the wall in the corner. He waited until she sat before pulling the chair out across from her.

"What's the problem?" He eased down and put his elbows on the table. She ran a hand through her hair and tugged at the strands near her neck.

"I'm nervous," she admitted and looked him square in the eye. He liked that about her, her honesty and directness. "Ramos," she started again, then paused with a brief shake of her head. A small smile tilted her lips. "Leo." Her voice softened on his name in a way that twisted his gut.

He was drowning here and couldn't seem to do anything to save himself. The water just kept getting deeper and deeper.

She fidgeted, as if she couldn't get comfortable, then stilled herself, squaring her shoulders. "I don't know if you noticed, but I sort of licked you at the Pit." She folded her hands on the table in front of her. Actually saying the words seemed to settle her.

Unfortunately, they didn't have that effect on him. She watched him now with a calm that told him she was totally unaware of the impact of her simple words. He closed his eyes and muttered a short, fervent prayer, asking for strength. Asking to be transported to a safe, Devine-less environment where he could forget her scent and the feel of that tentative touch against his neck. Instead, when he opened his eyes she still sat across from him.