Page 33 of Hot Pursuit
She stared at him.
He raised his brows wryly.
Jo looked down at her coffee and lifted it to cover her mouth. “I’m sorry too, Agent Parker.”
“What?” he questioned, lips pursing. “I couldn’t hear you.”
Is he actually teasing me? Teasing me!
Who is this man?
“I said I’m sorry, Nathaniel,” Jo drawled.
“You can call me Nate.”
“Nate,” she said, enjoying the way his name sounded rolling through her lips.Nate. Nate. Straightforward. Simple.“Well, Nate, I’m sorry for bringing up your father.” That sting of pain burned in his eyes once again, dark streaks of sapphire cutting through his irises. “It was wrong of me. I know nothing about him. And as I’m sure you know, I understand the pain of losing a parent, and I can’t believe I went there. I never should have, and I never will again.”
He nodded his gratitude.
Jo looked away from the intensity of his gaze, worried that maybe for all her hard work, he could still see straight through her. And she wasn’t an idiot. He wasn’t here out of the goodness of his heart. He had an agenda. There was no denying it.
“So, why exactly are you here, Nate? Not that I’m complaining, of course—just curious why you went from stalking me one day to greeting me with baked goods the next.”
“I’m trying to understand you.”
She pinched her brows. “Understand me?”
To what end…?
“Yes, Jo. You’re a riddle I’m trying to solve, and I thought the best way to go about it would actually be to talk to you. Directly.”
“You have to admit,” Jo countered. “It’s a little unorthodox, for a federal agent and his target to sit and have a casual conversation as…friends.”
He shrugged. “It is.”
“You don’t strike me as unorthodox.”
“You do,” he stated matter-of-factly, a little challenge in his voice, a dare that—dammit!—she wanted to take.
This is exactly what Thad was worried about, Jo argued with herself as she leaned back and took another sip of her coffee, analyzing the man before her.Thad knows me better than I know myself. He told me not to get too close. Not to play with fire. We can’t afford to get burned.
And yet, Jo was intrigued.
Maybe she wanted to understand Nate better too. Because she thought for sure she’d had Mr. Stiff all figured out, but watching him now—collar unbuttoned, sandy-blond hair casually tousled from a breeze, strong line of his jaw accented by the subtle uplift of his lips, a taunt shining brightly in those crystal eyes—Jo was beginning to think she didn’t know him at all. And the hacker inside of her demanded to unravel his secrets, to decode the mystery in his eyes, to find all her answers. Breaking and entering was in her blood. If there was a crack in his defenses, she’d find it.
“Okay, Nate,” she said, sitting up and putting her coffee on the table. Jo rested her elbows on her knees, leaning forward, leaning into his personal space. “You’re in luck, because the only thing I had on my agenda today was exploring New York, and I wouldn’t mind doing it with…a new friend. But I want to establish some guidelines, okay?”
He held his hands wide, unconcerned. “Go ahead.”
“First”—Jo held up her pointer finger—“no mentioning my father or Thad.”
Nate tilted his head, the corners of his eyes narrowing a hair as he examined her. “Okay.”
“Second,” Jo continued, “no asking me questions you know I can’t answer.”
“Done,” he agreed smoothly.
“Third, no talk about jail, or locking me up, or evidence, or calling me a criminal, or anything like that. No work. Only fun. The way I like it.”
