A.J. fidgeted with the controls of the radio. “Anyway, I have a credit card in a different name and lots of experience evading cameras and authority of all types. You’re in good hands.”
She had no doubt about that. Her instincts told her that even if this was all a bit insane. One minute she was at Headquarters with the Deputy AD of the FBI, then about to have dinner with her ex to try and get intel out of him . . . and the next thing she knew, A.J. was charging into Porter’s house prepared to throw down his life for her.
“Oh, love Blake Shelton and Gwen Stefani,” she said when A.J. settled on a song, deciding to table the heavy work conversation.
When A.J. began softly singing the lyrics to the song, Nobody But You, Ana experienced what felt like a cataclysmic event inside her body. Of course, you can sing. Her nipples pebbled, probably poking through her lacy bra and tee. Thank God it was dark.
He stopped singing a few seconds later, and she felt his eyes on her. “I’m digging the fact you recognize the song . . .”
She glanced at him, catching his smile. He had straight white teeth, and one side of his mouth charmingly hiked up a bit more than the other. Yeah, A.J. had a great smile. One that could easily seduce her, even at a time when she was risking everything to get answers, to get to the truth. “I’m eclectic in my music tastes. Plus, I was a big Gwen Stefani fan growing up when she was in No Doubt.”
“Believe it or not, I am, too.” He leaned his seat back a touch and then set those strong, masculine hands of his on his jeaned legs.
“A Gwen fan or eclectic in your music taste?” she teased.
His brows pulled together, and his smile deepened before she tore her gaze back to the road, so they didn’t crash. “Definitely both.”
Why hadn’t she felt even an iota of whatever was happening to her now when she was with Kyle? A.J.’s mere presence had her body reacting, tightening with a need she hadn’t known was inside of her.
She’d been around good-looking men before. And a lot of them had hit on her. None had made such an impact.
Cold, dead heart. Why wasn’t it cold and dead around A.J.?
She’d enacted Porter’s backup plan, and it’d begun with a bust. But yeah, she was lusting after this man next to her. And the last thing she wanted was for a good man like A.J. to be collateral damage in her pursuit of truth and justice.
“Something about being on the highway late at night soothes my soul,” he said. “It’s calming.”
“Like, so calming if I’d let you drive, you would have fallen asleep behind the wheel?” She captured a quick look at him again, and his eyes were out the side window.
“Nah, I’ve got sleep discipline. I can stay awake when needed but fall asleep at the drop of a hat when allowed. We had no choice back in the Navy.” His tone was a touch heavier when he spoke this time, as if remembering someone or something from his past. “You get rack time whenever you can.”
“What makes the road calming, though?” Being on the road only reminded her of the past, of all her time traveling as a kid. Her few good memories had all been destroyed by the bad ones when she’d turned sixteen. Totally decimated.
“My folks had an RV. Used to pack all five of us kids up and go on road trips to the middle of nowhere. No plans or reservations. Sort of like throwing a dart at a map to see where life would take us. Of course, my brothers and I would sleep in a tent outside while my parents and sister, Ella, stayed in the RV.”
A big family. Must have been nice.
Daddy, can I have a brother? A sister? She remembered begging her parents for a sibling and wishing for one every year when she blew out the candles of her birthday cake.
We got lucky with such a perfect daughter. We don’t want to jinx it and try for more. You’re all we need, my red angel, her dad would respond.
“I bet you loved sleeping outside.” She drew her hand into a fist and set it to her chest, pushing away the happy memory from her past as she’d trained herself to do because the pain of remembering was too much to bear.
“Tents are great, but nothing beats lying out in the back of your pickup beneath a canopy of stars. You don’t get night skies in the city like you do back home. You’ll see when we’re there.” His voice was warm and soft and nearly wrapped her like a blanket.
As nice as staring at a bunch of stars on a dark night sounded, she had to do her best not to let this man get under her skin, or under her clothes. “We’re going there to make a plan, not to—”
“I know,” he interrupted. “Don’t worry, I may be a country boy, but one thing you can count on is the fact that I always get a job done. Close a case. Complete an op.”
“And I’m your op?” She gulped and slid her gaze to the side to catch his eyes.
He tilted his head to the side. “I reckon you’re going to be a lot more than that.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ana followed the aroma of coffee into the living room of the two-bedroom suite A.J. had booked upon their arrival in Roanoke in the early hours of the morning. They hadn’t slept too long, but it was enough for her to feel refreshed.
Bonus points to the hotel for having decent water pressure. The scalding hot shower she’d taken once they’d ensured the suite was secure, had loosened her sore and knotted-up muscles enough that as soon as her head hit the pillow, she was lights-out. Which was definitely not her norm.
Sensing her presence, A.J. turned from the coffee station situated in the corner of the room and smiled. God, that man had the best smile. His brownish-blond hair was slightly damp from his shower, the color a little darker when wet. A few strands stuck up every which way as if he’d used his hand to swipe the water free without a brush. The style suited him. He had on dark jeans, a plain white tee that showcased his muscular arms, and instead of the sneakers he’d worn yesterday, he had on brown leather boots, a round toe unlike typical cowboy boots she’d seen him wear before.
“Morning,” he said as he approached her carrying two paper cups, swirls of steam escaping into the air. The few hours of sleep had done him good. Not that A.J. didn’t always look great.
“Don’t tell me whatever file you have on me also includes how I take my coffee.” She was only half-kidding. And surely, he’d seen or was in possession of a file on her. Whether the details included her real backstory, or as Porter had called it, Anastasia 1.0, she had no idea.
Porter had always warned her that her true story had the potential to be dangerous in the wrong hands. The truth would paint a target on her head, and now look at her, at what she was doing . . .
“Ana?”
“Sorry, I, um, what?” She blinked and peered up at A.J., now standing so close she had to tilt her head back. Shit, what was he just talking about? She knew it was more than “Ana?”, but she’d slipped inside her head, lost in her thoughts and worries.
He extended a cup, and she eyed the light brown liquid. “I said that I remembered how you drank your coffee back in Charlotte when we worked together. I saw you pour two creamers into your cup. No sugar.” He smirked. Proud of himself for paying attention to such details.
She took a sip and scrunched her nose.