Page 4 of Crash Course
"So," Blair said in her usual no-bullshit tone. "Tony Hadley We have a warrant in front of a judge. As soon as she signs it, we’re picking him up."
Shoot. On a damned Friday. They’d probably wait until the end of the day so her client would have to sit in jail overnight.
"Thanks for the heads up. How about I bring him in? As much as I love the theatrics you guys create, I’ll pass on you parading my handcuffed client in front of a bunch of reporters. Besides, it’s football season and I know you’re a fan. We’re not talking about a violent crime here. He’s not going anywhere. Let him play on Sunday, get a win for our home team, and I’ll bring him in on Monday."
A noise sounded and Cilla glanced up, spotted Cruz Blackwell in all his long-legged, studly glory, standing in front of the cockpit door, a backpack slung over his shoulder and his mouth sliding into a cocky grin that only intensified his studliness. Add to the smile his crisp white button-down that hugged his clearly muscled chest and shoulders in all the right ways and a woman might be done for.
The truly shocking thing about her attraction to Cruz might be his hair. She’d never gone for a man with shoulder-length hair, but he had those curls that she’d love to wrap her fingers around while staring into his sultry blue-gray eyes. With her height and the added bonus of high-heels, it would be so easy to do. She'd snuggle up next to him, tip her head back and feast.
The guy was. . .a god.
They’d been circling each other off and on for months now. She’d met him when she’d been hired by Phin Blackwell’s girlfriend, Maddy, an art acquisitions manager who’d been suspected of stealing priceless jewels from the presidential center she’d been employed by.
Cruz had literally chased Cilla down an FBI hallway, asking for her number after she’d yelled at his oldest brother, the agent investigating Maddy’s case. Cruz apparently had a thing for women who yelled at Cam, and it didn’t matter that she’d been in the middle of saving Maddy’s rear. The man knew what he wanted and went after it. No matter what.
That alone made her more than casually aware of him. Since that first meeting, she’d nicknamed him Mr. Delicioso.
And, oh, how she wanted to take a bite of him.
She tended to be surrounded by men who were intimidated by her success or her father. Either way? Boring.
But Cruz Blackwell? Trouble with a capital T. Too good looking and confident and those eyes were enough to distract her in ways she didn’t need distracting.
Too busy, she’d regretfully told him when he’d texted her.
And she was. More and more cases piled up, all of them helping her get to a place of financial independence. Finally, she was there. A homeowner with retirement savings plus a wad more invested, she no longer relied on her father’s vast wealth for support.
Somehow, she still had an office in her dad’s building. Still there for him to barge in on whenever he needed free legal advice. Still there, being manipulated into telling him what he wanted to hear.
"Cilla," Blair said through the phone line. "Hello?"
Cilla kept her gaze on Cruz—why not?—but brought her attention back to the matter at hand. "I’m here."
"Give me your word. You bring him in on Monday and we’ll hold off."
"Absolutely. We’ll come in through the back door. The one in the gated lot, so we’ll have privacy." Cilla smiled, simultaneously enjoying the chess game with Blair and the view of Cruz. "I know how you guys are. Nothing the DA’s office loves more than a juicy leak."
Blair laughed. "I do love our chats, Cilla."
"Girl, I know you do. Do we have a deal?"
Still standing in front of the cockpit door, Cruz let out a soft laugh, clearly enjoying her machinations.
"Sure," Blair said. "What kind of football fan would I be if I said no?"
"Thank you. I’ll have him there at nine on Monday. That work?"
"Yes. I’ll let you know if something changes."
Cilla reluctantly pulled her gaze from Cruz, disconnected, and slid her phone next to her briefcase on the table before coming back to him.
"Good morning," Mr. Delicioso said. "I heard you’d be with us today. Nice to see you again, Cilla."
"Good morning, Mr. Blackwell. Nice to see you."Very nice."Hope you don’t mind my tagging along. My father’s idea in case any legal issues popped up."
"Not at all. Whatever gets the job done. It’s just me and Phin today. Should be quick."
Two months earlier, Dad had loaned a ten-million-dollar painting to a gallery. The written agreement stated a three-week loan, and the painting had yet to be returned. At her urging, Dad called in Blackwell Asset Recovery Services to get his painting back.
