Page 93 of Date With Danger
Except it didn’t. Why on earth did I kiss her in the first place? She’s like a magnet I can’t stay away from. And I’m the curious kid, seeing how close I can get two magnets before they react, but failing whenever they connect.
My right foot slips out from underneath me and everything happens in slow motion. It's an out-of-body experience. First, my knees hit the belt, then my hands reach for the bars, but they are too high. I’m vaulted backward into the wall with a thud.
Ow.
There’s a cracking sound above me and movement in the mirror opposite me catches my attention. I roll out of the way, a split second before half a wall of glass falls and shatters where I just was.
This feels like a metaphor. Like a punishment for giving in to my temptation and kissing Amelia. If she gives me her heart, I’ll only shatter it.
My body hurts as I trudge back up to my room. Running usually clears my head. This time I risked a concussion. I also stupidly left Amelia vulnerable in her room. It’s a good thing the treadmill kicked me off. I needed a mind and body restart. Protecting her is the only thing I’m allowed to think about right now.
Amelia’s room is quiet so I sneak past into my side and quickly get cleaned up, avoiding changing my clothes so she doesn’t notice. I take a few pain pills and then knock on her door.
It swings wide open and her gaze drifts over me. “What happened to you?”
“Nothing,” I grumble, scooting past her into the room and going straight to the empty desk. Where did I leave my laptop? Why was I stupid enough to leave it here to begin with? I should be fired. Maybe I should resign. I’m clearly not cut out for this job.
I turn, searching the room. I know I picked up the laptop before I kissed her by the bed. Maybe it fell to the floor. I drop to my knees, lifting the bed skirt.
Lime green painted toes creep into my vision. “Searching for something, Agent Harris?”
I go stiff and look up at her slowly. Dangerously. “Amelia…where’s my laptop?”
She drops onto the bed with a grin, her smooth legs crossed in front of her. “You should keep better track of your stuff. Misplacing government-issued devices could be…what did you call it? 'A hazard'?”
I’m equal parts annoyed and turned on by her using my words against me. But annoyance wins out. All of which is aimed at myself for being foolish enough to lose my laptop. “This isn’t a game.” I stand, glaring down at her. “I need my laptop back so I can solve this case and keep you safe.”
She purses her lips. “Let me help.”
“You’ve helped plenty. I’ll get you an honorary badge. Now please, where's my laptop?”
“You’re so stubborn. I dated both men. Maybe I’ll see something you didn’t.”
I hate that she has a point.
“Are you worried you’ll kiss me again?” she asks.
There goes forgetting the kiss. It’s front and center in my brain again, like a migraine. I grunt a nonanswer because the truth is I am worried I’ll kiss her again. I have no willpower when it comes to her.
“If I promise to keep my hands to myself will that be enough?” she asks.
I’m not worried about her hands. I’m worried about mine.
Amelia huffs out a breath and pastes on a counterfeit smile. It doesn't reach her eyes and lacks the excess emotion she infuses into every aspect of life. “You caught me. You knew it was a game all along. I have no feelings for you whatsoever and my lips will never touch yours again.”
I know the words coming out of her mouth are a lie, but they hit me like the cold hard truth. She’s saying what she thinks I want to hear, and…I hate it.
“There, now you can hire me as an asset again.” This time her smile is genuine.
I stomp to the desk and sit down, studying the fake wood grains. I shouldn’t allow her to be privy to this kind of information. But she figured out the painting and I'm itching to know where else her brain might take us. Because mine keeps taking me around in circles where Amelia ends up hurt.
I lean forward resting my elbows on my legs, knowing I’m going to regret this. “Okay.”
Her eyes light up. “Really? That worked? I mean, of course it did, I’m a top-notch negotiator. Got any terrorists you need talking down?”
“Amelia.” I hold up a hand, stopping her. “Let’s assume our theory is correct and Justin was involved with Liam somehow. Our next step should be looking into Justin’s contacts. Old roommates. Relationships, coworkers. Travel outside the States. Maybe we can connect them elsewhere.” I’m praying that’s the case. That there’s another link besides Amelia.
After the heist, I’d hoped maybe the painting was all Liam was here for and he’d leave. But we’ve had agents at every private and public airport within a sixty-mile radius and no one’s spotted him. There’s more going on here, as evidenced by the dead body lying in the morgue. This isn’t about a painting.