Page 142 of Summer Heat
Her shirt hung in her hand. Cash scooped his clothes off the floor and turned for the door to the adjoining room.
“Wait,” she said, causing him to pivot. “You like?” She modeled the lacy red bra with a spin.
“I like.” He paused. “Come here.”
She was in his arms in a second. Wrapped against his bare chest, his fine chest hair tickling her skin, she found a good argument for running late. He slanted his mouth over hers and ran his fingers into her messy bun. The tender touch elicited a sigh. This was definitely a lets-run-late morning kiss. His smile broke the intensity as he pulled back. His fingers petted her cheek. “Do your thing. I’ll see you downstairs.”
She continued to stare after he’d shut the door, wondering how this was possible and if it was too good to be true.
***
Rocco, Roman, and Brock were kicked back on the large leather couch, wolfing down steak and eggs. The smell alone was almost enough to drag Cash out of Nicola’s bed, but when she gave him the final push, he’d high-tailed it downstairs to get some Mia-style cooking.
Voices in the kitchen drifted into the room. Winters. Jared. Some of the other guys. Breakfast was set up family style on a large table in the great room. Big, juicy-looking steaks. Heaping piles of scrambled eggs, knowing Mia, filled with sharp cheddar cheese. Biscuits and a bowl of gravy. God love Mia Winters. Holy hell, she could cook.
Plate piled high, he perched on the oversized chair and chowed down. Jared grumble-laughed from the kitchen. At least the bastard wasn’t in a terrible mood. Maybe someone had been able to find his stupid, flippin’ ammo. Green tracer and all. He and Roman hadn’t, and they’d searched while Cash had been away from Nic’s bed. It was almost eight in the morning. If Jared was still here and laughing, the morning meeting wouldn’t be as bad as Cash’d guessed it might be.
Nicola rounded the corner. A freakin’ vision of tough girl beauty. She didn’t overdo the makeup, didn’t show off the lacy bra that had almost brought him to his knees. No, she rocked a tight pair of jeans over those skyscraper legs. He noticed a small bulge at her ankle. Ankle holster. That was hot, no questions asked. And that shirt loved her curves. Cash looked at the guys. All of them but Roman noticed too.
Roman lifted his chin to her. “Morning.”
She said her hellos, joked with the boys, and grabbed a plate and some coffee. She was perfect, the picture of ease, and gave the impression he was sure she wanted. Smart. Stealthy. And lethal. She had the I-can-kill-you-with-a-toothpick look. Dead sexy. Whether she tried or not, wanted others to notice or not, the woman was an attention grabber.
“Cash.” She nodded, treating him just the same as the others, as if they were a secret. This was fun. She was fun. He could handle this game.
He played along. “Nicola.”
Roman rolled his eyes. Rocco watched today’s version of their reality show unfold. Brock watched Nic. More curious than interested, but Cash would have a talk with Brock about that later.
Jared and Winters walked into the room. Jared looked like the grumbling asshole he always was. Winters looked like he could use a shave, the way he always did. Same old thing, just another Saturday morning when half the guys were shipping off somewhere for some job that required a green tracer, and a few others were readying a plan to smoke out a CIA mole.
Jared interrupted the breakfast chatter. “Morning, assholes. And lady.” He nodded to Nicola, who nodded back. “Those going with me, we leave soon as that fuckin’ ammo arrives. Fucking desk jockey, wannabe commandos, and their color requests. The rest of you are working with Cash and Nicola, who’s from the CIA.”
Cash liked the sound of them working together. In the last twenty-four hours, his opinion of her in the field had changed. Slightly. He still wasn’t thrilled. He hated the reality of it but, hell, she was doing it with or without his permission. With or without him by her side. So fuck it. Better to be on her side.
Right?
Maybe?
She could shoot. She could hold her own at hand-to-hand. She could throw down with the toys and the training the CIA gave her. She was good. Impressive. He liked the calculating, sparring Nicola, the adult Nicola, the woman who knew what worked for her and wasn’t afraid to embrace it. And spy games worked for her, so he’d deal. Kinda.
He stood up to stretch and put away his plate. Something to concentrate on besides Nic.
Jared continued, “So who here hasn’t met Miss CIA-herself? Nicola Garrison. Anyone?”
Roman shot coffee out his nose. Whoops. That probably didn’t go the way Nic had planned. Roman was on his feet. “Excuse me? Garrison?”
Cash felt his cheeks catch fire and stole a glance at Nic. She wasn’t fazed. Didn’t respond, other than a roll of her eyes.
Roman stepped toward Cash. “What the fuck? I thought you said you weren’t sure about her. That sounds pretty fuckin’ sure.”
Oh fuck. He told Roman he hadn’t been sure if they were really done because he didn’t know what was going on with her. Damn it, he was sure that he was interested in finding out. Then he had found out, and everything fell into place. Shit was working out. But coming from Roman’s lips, it sure sounded like he wasn’t sure about Nicola.
Her face was tight. Imperceptible to anyone but him. He knew that face too well, and she was hurting. Goddamn Roman.
“Why is it that I’m always refereeing high school drama with you guys?” Jared growled. “Princess, explain yourself. Roman, sit down. Cash, I don’t care what you do. Keep standing for all I care.”
“CIA gave it to me, Roman. Cut your shit out.” That Nicola sounded pretty damn tough and to the point. Props to his girl. His girl. That sounded good.
