“Yeah, I couldn’t do much about the ash-like taste of hotel coffee, though. Sorry.”
“It’ll work.” She looked toward the door, nervous about the trip today. Well, more so about being alone in the car with A.J. for so long. The console between them in the SUV didn’t provide enough space to prevent her from breathing him in last night. It didn’t prevent their arms from bumping. The slight touches sent jolts through her body causing inappropriate thoughts. “We better get going since we have a lot of driving to do.”
He made no move to follow her suggestion. Instead, he flashed a grin, that playful tease of his lips lighting yet another fire in her chest, the one that had a tendency to throw off sparks and light fires elsewhere in her body. “You’re still surprised I got us a two-bedroom suite, aren’t you?”
“Oh come on, tell me you didn’t consider discreetly bribing the woman at the front desk to say they were all out of suites so we’d have to stay in the same bedroom? Or try to persuade me that we had to pretend to be a Mr. and Mrs.?”
“It is the twenty-first century.” A.J. took a swallow of his coffee and winced. “Men and women can travel together without people assuming they’re sleeping together. But I draw the line at pretending you’re my sister.”
Ana had no desire to pretend he was the brother she never had, considering there’d been at least fifty naughty scenarios starring A.J. streaming through her head during the drive to Roanoke last night. Fifty more than acceptable.
“I’ll be driving today,” he informed her when she’d remained quiet.
One more quick sip of her bitter coffee had her deciding to chuck it into the trash. “And how’s your head?”
It was certainly possible he’d hit his head one too many times over the years. And getting whacked in the head with a gun last night could very well have been, to loosely interpret the idiom, the straw to break the camel’s back.
“I’m normal again, don’t you worry.” Was he trying to convince her or himself?
She narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, not sure if normal on you is much different.”
He tossed his coffee cup in the trash before opening the door. “Shall we?” He positioned his ball cap backward—that looked far too sexy—then he secured their bags that were sitting by the door in his one hand while keeping the door open with his back. “I’m fine. Really,” he added as if sensing her hesitation about letting him drive. “Are you sure you’re okay? Feel like panic-cleaning? Panic-sex? How about we kill two birds with one stone . . . go back inside, have wild sex in my room, and then you can make the bed.”
“You did not just say that.” But really, the man had her smiling so much since they’d left D.C. that her cheeks physically hurt.
“Humor not your thing?” A.J. asked once they were in the SUV a few minutes later. “My buddies in the military—we have a tendency to say shit that others might not find funny or appropriate under certain circumstances, but it helps. For some reason, the humor helps us get through it all.” The deep timbre of his voice caused goose bumps to form on her bare arms.
She’d gone with a yellow tank top paired with white pants today, hoping to pull off a relaxed vacation vibe and not an FBI agent. Of all the places she’d lived growing up, the South had never been one of them. “I think I get it,” she spoke up once he pulled onto the highway that’d be almost a straight shot to Alabama. “People cope in different ways.”
“And how do you cope?”
She pivoted her focus his way. “What makes you think I need to cope with anything?” Okay, so she did already admit she panic-cleaned when stressed, so maybe he had her there.
He lowered the aviator shades he’d put on when they’d gotten into the car, stealing a quick glimpse of her that said I already have you figured out before setting his attention to the road.
Sunglasses. She’d forgotten hers and would definitely be needing a pair around this man. She wasn’t used to people getting a read on her so easily.
“So, um, did you speak to your colleagues before we left the hotel?”
“You mean before you walked out of your room looking like a ray of sunshine?” And there was that goofy but still sexy grin again.
“Trying to look a little more Southern than uptight FBI.”
“You admit you’re uptight, then?”
Of course, I’m uptight. She sighed instead of confessing what they both already knew was one of her main qualities (or was that a flaw?). “I’m not gonna survive this drive with you. I can feel it. Maybe we ought to go back to being quiet like the ride last night.” And yet, a smile pulled at the edges of her lips.
“That was pure torture.” He tossed an overly dramatic palm to his chest. “I’m a talker.”
“I can see that.” She fidgeted with the strap of her seatbelt. A touch of nerves at having to endure being in the car with him for seven or so hours and in the daylight . . . this was going to be hard. She was not an open book, and she had no intention of getting sucked into talking about her life. But for some insane reason, around him, she had the urge to at least turn a few pages and see what might happen.
“You still haven’t answered my question, by the way. Perhaps all this talking is your way of avoiding questions you don’t want to answer.” She leaned back in her seat and tightened the knot of her ponytail, waiting for a rebuttal that never came. “See, I’m right.”
“To answer your question, I did talk to my people. They checked every house that had a front door surveillance camera around Porter’s place to try and get a look at who may have entered his house before you. The guy was good. You too, so it would seem. Neither of you were on any other cameras.” He paused. “Also, there’s no mention of you being on the run with a handsome cowboy.” She assumed he chased away whatever concerns had entered his mind when his lips went from drawn tight to curving into a smile. “And lastly, my buddy is fine with me staying at his place. He just said no sex in the master bedroom.”
“Does he know I’m with you?” And wait, she probably should have led with another response, one that shot down any ideas that they’d be sleeping together.
“No, I said I’d be traveling alone.” His voice lowered, almost like he was once again a Tier One operator in the middle of a serious mission. Did he suddenly remember why they were on the road? “Not that he believed me,” he tossed out a moment later.
“So, he assumes you’ll hook up with someone in town. Is that your reputation?” she asked, her voice pitching softer than normal. A strange feeling of—was that jealousy?—had her stomach tightening.
He shifted on his seat, looking back and forth between the highway and her, which was making her more uncomfortable. Too many eighteen-wheelers on the road. “Do I look like a player?” His signature playboy grin with a side of cocky touched his face. “And I thought you didn’t want to chitchat?” Annnnd operator mode gone. The A.J. she’d grown accustomed to in their short time together had returned.
Well, if he’d been telling the truth on her voicemail—he hadn’t been with anyone since he met her. She had a hard time believing that, though. It was probably a drunken attempt to woo her.