Page 19 of Hot Pursuit
After a brief pause, he lifted his hand and pressed a button on the door.
His window rolled down.
“Miss Carter,” he half growled, half greeted.
Jo smiled cheerily. “Cronut? They’re delicious.”
And they were, they really freaking were—much as she loathed to admit it, professional jealousy and all that. But the cronut was nothing like the doussant she’d invented ten years ago during that first long, lonely year on the private island. This was perfect. Flaky. Fried. Doughy. Dipped in sugar. Filled with cream. Finished off with a light yet necessary glaze that tied the entire thing together. Dominique Ansel was a god, and Jo was a mere mortal.
Though, hopefully, my coopie will help change that!
Jo stretched the box closer to the window, letting the smell of the pastry fill the small car, trying to hold back a smile. She’d woken up at the crack of dawn two weeks ago to place a preorder for a full box of six cronuts, refreshing the web page over and over in a frenzy until her order processed. Sure, she could’ve hacked her way into the system to place an order, but sometimes, doing things the hard way was more fun. And the payout was even sweeter.
Jo met Agent Parker’s exasperated gaze. “You know you want one…”
He didn’t move.
His partner, however, lunged across the seats and reached into the box.
“Leo.” Agent Parker whipped his head to the side.
His partner shrugged and took a massive bite, eyes closing in blissful joy as he chewed. It was hard to tell with his mouth full, but Jo was pretty sure she heard him mumble the words, “So good.”
She looked back at Mr. Stiff, leaning down so her elbows rested on his windowsill, putting their faces about a foot apart. He swallowed and narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything. Jo shook the box.
“No laws were broken during the procurement of these cronuts,” she teased, letting her voice drop to a low, sultry whisper. “I promise.”
He held her gaze, not moving.
So, Jo did the same thing right back.
He frowned.
She smiled.
The moment stretched on and on and on, until—
“I’ll take another one…in case he wants it later,” Agent Alvarez, or Leo, as Mr. Stiff had called him, reached back across the seats to grab another pastry from the box.
Jo waited until he was done before shrugging and breaking eye contact with Agent Parker. She stood, folded the box back together, and dropped it into her purse. Then she lifted her arms over her shoulders with a sigh, letting her head fall back, basking in the sunlight as she stretched. She’d practiced the move in the mirror earlier, fully aware of the exposed stretch of skin flashing at just about eye level to Agent Parker right now, a few inches of smooth, flat stomach.
She dropped her arms. “There’s nothing like New York on a hot spring day.”
Agent Parker curled his upper lip and let out a derisive puff of air.
Jo stared down at him, curious. “Don’t you just love being surrounded by so many people?”
Jo did. She spent too much of her life alone. She thrived on the crowd, on how easily she could disappear into the folds and pretend to be normal, how easily she could blend in, just another tourist. Funny how at home, she so often felt lost despite knowing exactly where she was. But here, in these swarming streets, dependent on a map to get around, she’d never felt more alive, more found. Though, maybe that had more to do with the fact that she knew someone was paying attention.
“No.” The grumpy word slipped through Agent Parker’s mouth. Jo folded her lips to keep from laughing as he twitched slightly at the sound and then lifted his gaze to meet hers. “Too much traffic.”
“But there’s such a vivacious energy,” she said, inhaling deeply, as though the air were a drug and breathing a high all its own.
He wrinkled his nose. “There’s a smell.”
“Well,” she countered, cocking her hip to the side and raising her brows in challenge. “If you stepped outside that stuffy car, you might think differently. I’ve got a few more bakeries on my list and not a soul to share them with. Interested in going for a stroll? Or would you prefer I continue on my merry way and pretend I don’t see you following me?”
“I’m quite comfortable where I am, Miss Carter,” he said, leaning back into his seat and folding his arms, shifting his gaze to the front window instead of her face, literally staring at a brick wall instead of her.
