Page 14 of Over the Edge

For a heartbeat, I thought he might close that last bit of distance between us, and a treacherous part of me wanted him to.

The ding of the elevator shattered the moment, and I stepped back too quickly. His eyes sparked; a predator who’d just seen prey twitch. But it was either retreat or throw myself at him and climb him like a tree, and I wasn’t about to hand him that kind of victory.

Not when he was enjoying this way too damn much.

I forced a slow breath through my nose, smoothing my jumpsuit as if I could press out the heat still lingering on my skin. Calm. Collected. Unaffected. That was the goal. Even if my heart was still beating like I’d barely made it out of something dangerous.

I strode toward the elevator. “I need coffee before I deal with all of… this.” I gestured vaguely in Flynn’s direction without looking at him.

His laugh was full of wicked amusement. “All of my animal magnetism?”

I punched the elevator button. The doors slid open instantly, and I stepped inside without responding.

Flynn followed. Of course he did.

I felt him behind me, close enough to mess with my focus without even trying.

The doors slid shut, trapping us inside.

I stared straight ahead, willing myself to think about anything else.

Not the way his scent lingered, woodsy, warm, and masculine.

Not the way my skin suddenly felt too tight.

Flynn shifted closer, his arm brushing my shoulder. “Admit it, Siren.” His voice was low, far too smug, and far too close to my ear. “You had dirty thoughts last night, too.”

The doors opened.

I stepped out.

I didn’t look back as I marched across the opulent lobby to the cafe. Flynn’s footsteps behind me were unhurried, confident, and only fueled my irritation. I could practically feel his smirk burning into my back.

The hotel’s café was a sun-drenched space with marble-topped tables. A handful of early risers—wealthy tourists and business people—lounged with their espressos and newspapers. Perfect for our cover. I chose a table near the window, angling myself to keep sight lines on both the entrance and the terrace beyond.

Flynn slid into the chair across from me like he had every right to be there.

The waiter hurried over as soon as we sat down.

“Black coffee,” I said, pulling off the hat and setting it on the empty seat beside me.

“Caramel macchiato,” Flynn added, completely unashamed. “Extra drizzle and whipped cream.”

I blinked at him. “You don’t seem like a caramel drizzle kind of guy.”

He shrugged. “And you don’t seem like the fun kind of girl.”

“I’m plenty of fun.”

His grin widened. “Now that I’d like to see.”

“I bet you would,” I said, keeping my voice cool even as heat crawled under my skin. I leaned back in my chair and crossed my legs, using the motion to create distance between us. “We need to get our story straight before Moreau.”

Flynn tracked the movement, those sharp eyes missing nothing. “Our story is straight. You’re the bored heiress looking for thrills. I’m your latest plaything.”

“You’re my security consultant,” I corrected, though the wordplaythingconjured images I immediately shoved out of my head. “That’s the cover we agreed on.”

“Security consultant by day, plaything by night.” His voice dipped lower. “Rich women like Elisa Deveraux don’t hire men like me just for their professional expertise.”

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