A sleeping threat has awakened in the cozy village of Nyack, and Detective Charlese “Charlie” Lopez is tasked with stopping the deranged perpetrator. Ready to prove herself, Charlie’s surprised by the arrival of two FBI agents sent to assist, one of which is the charming and sexy, but guarded, Trent Rossi. As the crimes progress, so does Charlie’s desire to know Trent on a very personal level. She finds her attraction surging for the agent—only to realize that his random disappearances, his silence when questioned, and his exceptional knowledge of the perpetrator make him the primary suspect.
Dark secrets begin to blur the line between who is on which side of the law. If she can’t solve these crimes, Charlie’s attraction to Trent could become fatal.
It may be too late already.
Jesus, he should be looking for this Detective Lopez, but his body screamed for this woman. He fought the urge to fidget, cursed the hours he had been working, unable to get any kind of companionship. He would have to work quick and then find Charlie. “I’m Agent Rossi with the FBI.” He leaned against the desk, gave her the look that had gotten him into pants faster than any of his college buddies, and held out a hand. She looked at his palm as if it were a serpent ready to strike.
“And? How can I help you, Agent Rossi?” She rose from her chair and crossed her arms under her breasts. He tried—and failed—to ignore how the movement pushed her plentiful mounds up toward her chin.
He pulled his hand back and ran it through his hair.
Bad move! The stench coming from under his arm made him wince.
“Look, I know you probably have things to do,” he said.
She nodded, brows lifted to her hairline, as if saying “no shit.” He went on, “But I do need to find Detective Lopez. You’d be a real sweetheart if you could point me in his direction. I’m here on a case and I don’t know…maybe after I’m done briefing him, you’d like to have dinner with me? That is, if you’re not busy?”
The contortion of her brows twisted before a sly smile spread.
“You’re looking for Charlie, huh?”
Someone groaned, and Trent glared over his shoulder, perplexed. The heavyset guy in need of Tide shook his head and looked away. Irritated at the interruption and apparent lack of man code, Trent turned his attention back to the cute little female.
He nodded. “Yeah.”
The woman shifted and sat in the chair with purposeful, slow movements. She set one foot on the desk, crossed a long leg over the other. Each action played out in slow motion through his lust-filled brain. He shifted, his focus glued to the smooth expanse of a jean-covered thigh, and stepped closer.
Hummidy, hummidy, hummidy.
“And why is it you need Charlie?” The woman ran a hand up the outside of her leg and his attention followed it. His mouth went dry.
“Umm, a case.”
“Yeah.” When silence met him, he realized what was happening. You didn’t have to go through interrogation and interview classes in order to figure it out. He was being led. His gaze snapped to hers, except this time, her face did not look friendly. If the hardening of her mouth was any indication, she looked pissed. And he’d been totally caught just checking her out.
Resigned, he let out a breath.
“Yeah, a case. Look, I’m sorry for all—” He waved a hand between them. “This. Could you just point me in the direction of Detective Lopez?”
Her hard mouth softened and she stood from her chair again, lips turning up at the corners. Leaning into him, her scent surrounded him and he got a whiff of coconut.
His gaze tracked along her face, and dropped to her shirt, which parted as she leaned forward. He about choked as he tried to swallow, his mouth dry as the Arizona desert.
“Well, Agent Rossi.”
Lean forward a little more, please.
“If you could stop staring at my tits for all of two seconds, then I’ll tell where you can find Detective Lopez.”
The noisemaker behind him let out a strangled cough.