Page 39 of Live a Little!

“Wedon’t search for drugs.” His face burned a deep red as he stomped forward and brought it mere inches from her own. Only stubborn pride stopped her from jerking backward. “Isearch for drugs.Youstay in the office and keep your nose clean.” Only the sound of true worry in his tone stopped her from blasting off athim.

Her attention also snagged on something else that bothered her. What was wrong with this picture? Something niggled in the back of her brain, something that had hovered at the edge of her consciousness for weeks. Suddenly it hit her. He always talked in the singular, and she’d never seen any other FBI personnel in his vicinity. Something was very oddhere.

Watching him intently, she said, “I thought the FBI always worked inteams.”

“What are you talkingabout?”

“You. You said ‘Isearch for drugs,Ido this job.’ On TV agents always work in pairs, orteams.”

His complexion deepened a shade and he glanced away. “Don’t believe everything you see onTV.”

She might be an amateur, but she wasn’t stupid. She could tell he was hiding something. “So, you work all byyourself?”

He was out of her face in a heartbeat, taking a sudden interest in a spot on his thumb. “That’sclassified.”

She let a second or two tick by. “Maybe I should phone the FBI and ask to speak to your boss. She could tellme.”

“He,” Jake answered automatically, then his head shot up. “Don’t you even think aboutcalling.”

“Whynot?”

“Because it’s none of yourbusiness.”

“I’m a taxpayer. Of course it’s mybusiness.”

He grimaced. “Let it go,Cyn.”

She shook her head. “Not achance.”

There was a long silence. “Who are you going to talk to at four in themorning?”

“I’ll leave a message.” She rose and retrieved her phone, then said, “If you won’t give me a phone number, I’m sure Google will help.” She shot a glance at Jake under her lashes to make certain she had hisattention.

He glared ather.

“Let’s see, FBI customerservice.”

He made a sound like a man goaded to the end of his sanity. “I’m onholiday.”

“What?”

She’d never seen Jake Wheeler lose control in the slightest—well, except in bed, which was not something she wanted to think about at the moment. Right now, he looked like a man losing control of a situation he thought he’d had nailed. He paced, dragging a hand through his hair till it stood out in charcoal tufts. “Sort of aholiday.”

“Holidaymeans playing golf, fishing, scuba diving. Lazing in a hammock composing your memoirs.Holidaydoes not mean working on a case. I don’t believe you.” She went back to her smartphone.

He walked slowly over and sank down beside her. “Okay, it’s not a holiday, exactly. I’m on stressleave.”

“Stress leave?”Oh, man, could she pick ‘em. First Walter, the tightwad with no sex drive; now Jake, who had a sex overdrive, but was either a rogue agent or a lunatic. She dropped her head into her hands. “Why me?” she moaned to no one inparticular.

He rested a hand, warm and heavy, on her ankle, where it lay beside him on the couch. Even as mad as she was, that connection reminded her that whatever kind of nutcase he was, at least he was a great lover. And she trustedhim.

It shocked her as the thought occurred, but it was true. She did trust him. Enough to abandon a long-term job and throw her future into jeopardy, although she was beginning to wonder how much jeopardy there really was. Maybe he’d hallucinated the whole smuggling thing. Maybe she wasn’t the only one with a rich fantasylife.

Still, even if he was crazy, he’d made the past few weeks more fun and exciting than any she’d ever known. She still tingled when she thought about the awful, terrifying climb up and over that fence. She tingled even more when she remembered the blazing heat that had consumed them both as they made love in the warehouse, not fifty feet from armed guards. In fact, she was getting warm all over again just thinking aboutit.

She turned to gaze into his smoky-blue eyes and felt even hotter. They’d been in danger tonight. They could have been caught. She was as nutty as he was, she knew, but the very thought of danger had her wanting to strip that sexy FBI agent naked and have her way with him. If he even was an agent. She’d heard of men who became so fixated with wanting to be law heroes that they impersonated firefighters, cops and, presumably FBI agents. “Are you actually with the FBI?” she askedgently.

“I guess I’d better explain,” he said in a voice that sounded like he’d rather chew brokenglass.

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