Agent in Training (6 page)

Nick tipped his cup to his partner. “Glad to hear that. Obviously, the two of you really like each other.”

“I really care about her. She’s great. I want you to get to know her a little better. Then you’ll see why I can’t stay away.”

“So let’s finish this paperwork and get the hell out of here.” Nick picked up his pen and smiled to himself.

It was good to see his partner happy. Sandy seemed good for Hank. As for himself, he wasn’t ready for any kind of commitment and wouldn’t be for a long time.

Three hours later, a casually dressed and freshly-shaven, Nick walked into Ryan’s. He glanced around the bar for Hank and Sandy but didn’t see them. He frowned but then his cell phone rang. He unclipped it from his belt and looked at the call display.
Ah
.

“Trent here.”

“Sorry we’re not there yet, Nick. Sandy had to wait for a call from her mother, so we’re running a little late. Order a drink. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ll be sitting at the bar.” Nick ended the call and headed for the long circular bar against the mirrored wall at the back. He wove his way through a group of Alpha-Omega-Phi Sorority students then spotted a woman at the far end of the bar whose hair resembled a fine red wine—the same shade as…

His heart picked up speed, beating like a jackhammer. Could it really be her? The Ice Princess—old Iron Maiden herself? Here at Ryan’s? No, it couldn’t be. Why would uptight Shiloh Templar be in such a place?

Nick rubbed his jaw. Maybe she wanted to pick up a man. He was a man.
Probably more man than she could handle
. Okay, where in the hell did that come from?

He knew he’d be crazy to come-on to the director, though a part of him wondered if she’d take the bait. An insistent part of him.

He grinned and headed her way, ready for whatever she dished out. He was up for a good challenge, and this could certainly be an interesting one. But he decided, as he approached her, that verbal play was as far as he’d let it go.

“This seat taken?"

The redhead pivoted on her stool. When she recognized him her face lost some of its color. "What are you doing here, Trent?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing. What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” He didn’t say
nice girl
. She was hardly that.

“Did you think up that line yourself, or was it a line your father used?”

Nick mentally counted to ten, intent on not letting her get to him.

“I was three when my father was killed. And I don’t think he was teaching me pickup lines at the time.”

She grimaced. “Sorry. I forgot.”

“Don’t worry about it. So why are you here? Looking to score some action?” Nick watched in fascination as her face flushed a pretty pink and he assumed he was right on target.

“I came in for a drink. That a crime?”

He smiled. “Only if you’re a minor.”

She rolled her eyes and turned away, taking a sip of the amber-colored drink in her hand.

“Want me to help you find a man?” He leaned in, inhaling her sweet, flowery fragrance. The perfume made his groin twitch, which surprised him. Could it be the kind that had pheromones in it, because it sure as hell stirred him?

She elbowed him lightly. “I can find my own men, thank you. Don’t you have a beach bunny you could hop off to?”

“Cute, but no. I’m a free agent tonight. So, what type of guy you looking for? Are we talking commitment kind or a one nighter?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Go away!”

At that moment, Nick noticed she wasn’t wearing her glasses and her eyes were a beautiful light green with intriguing flecks of gold running through them.

His stomach bottomed out.

“I never noticed before but you have freckles,” he said more to himself than to her.

She blushed, then turned away.

“They’re cute, really.”

She turned back to glare at him. “Are you flirting with me?”

Nick shook his head. “Never happen. Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know. You tell me?”

Time to change the subject to something less personal. “Did you get that picture analyzed and fingerprinted?”

She turned away, gulping down the remainder of her drink. Another subject she apparently didn’t plan to discuss with him.

He signaled for the bartender then turned to her. “Can I buy you another drink?”

“I can buy my own,” she snapped back.

“Okay.”
Wow, director through and through
.

The man behind the bar took his drink order, and Nick swung on his stool, glancing around the crowded nightclub. It was dark, but he could see two young women smiling at him beneath a neon beer sign—a clear invitation to join them. From the glimmer of interest, he could very easily get lucky if he wanted to. But did he? Hell, the way they ogled him, he could probably have both—at the same time.

But for some reason that didn’t sound as appealing as sitting with Shiloh, slinging verbal barbs. And quite frankly, that change in him worried Nick.

Of all the bars in Washington DC, how had Nicholas Trent ended up on the stool next to hers?

Annoyed, she glanced at him and noted his attention drawn to two young women sitting in a booth across the bar. The interest was mutual––both eyed him in return. A twinge of something alien hit her stomach, though she wasn’t sure what it was.

Shiloh snatched her drink, found it empty, and signaled for the bartender to refill it––which he quickly did. Nick Trent was now sideways on the stool, facing the two other women.

A deep sigh escaped her. Why hadn’t she gone straight home?

When she’d left the office, she’d felt an urge for a drink and a little male companionship instead of going back to her cold, lonely apartment. Ages had passed since she’d been held in a man’s arms and told she was beautiful. And that was a lie, of course. She knew she wasn’t pretty, but she needed some type of validation that she was a desirable woman.

An appliance could only relieve a physical need, not an emotional one. Shiloh wanted relief of her sexual tension but also a connection. Tender words. A gentle touch. Something solid, with a heartbeat.

Lifting her glass, Shiloh took a long swallow. The brandy instantly thawed her insides. Warm and fuzzy feelings washed over her. How many brandies had she had? Three? Four? Shiloh hadn’t had a drink in months and it was going straight to her head. She glanced at Nicholas and her stomach fluttered. He was one hot-looking man.

Images of his naked, tanned body floated around in her mind. All that toned, taut muscle wrapped around her body... Would he be good in the sack? Energetic? Could a guy his age go all night?

Her hands shook as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and leaned in to catch his attention.

“Go for it.” She tipped her head toward the women in the booth. “Obviously they’re interested.”

“I’m waiting for Hank,” he said, his face relaxed with amusement.

She frowned. “Are you and Hank—you know?”

“What?” He scowled. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

“I just thought—” She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Why would you think I was gay?”

“Aren’t a lot of pretty boys?” Shiloh slapped her hands over her mouth.

“You think I’m pretty? Thank you, I think. You’d just love it if I were gay, wouldn’t you? Sorry to disappoint.”

She was actually relieved, though really, the idea of Nicholas Trent being gay had seemed a little over the top. Especially after the kiss.

“Would you like me to prove it to you?” His blue eyes sparkled with mischief as he brought his hand to her mouth and brushed his thumb across her bottom lip.

Shiloh swallowed hard, her blood pumping wildly through her veins. What did they say about a man with large hands and… She glanced down at his boots.

He winked, then grinned wickedly. “Size thirteen, if you’re interested.”

Had he known what she was thinking? Once again, her face heated with embarrassment. Why were her hands itching to touch him?

She needed to go home. “Okay. Well, I’m heading out.” Shiloh slid off the barstool and teetered forward.

“Whoa—there. How many drinks have you had?”

“Just a couple. I’m fine.” She took another step and swayed right into him, inhaling his musky maleness, an arousing woodsy scent that caused her head to swim even more.

“You’re not fine. You’ve had too much to drink.” Nick held her shoulders and stared intently into her eyes. “I’m taking you home.”

“No! I can drive.” At that instant, Shiloh wished she’d stopped to eat something before she started drinking. The alcohol was clouding her judgment.

His eyes darkened and he shook his head. “No you can’t, Shiloh.”

“That’s Ms. Templar to you,” she shot back.

“Fine, Ms. Templar. I’m driving you home.” He grabbed a napkin off the bar, took a pen out of his leather jacket and scribbled something on it. Signaling the bartender, he whispered something to the man and handed him the paper. The man nodded.

“Okay. Come on. Let’s go.”

“But…”

“But nothing. You’re in no shape to drive.”

Shiloh allowed him to usher her through the bar, her head now spinning, her mind racing wildly.

Was she going to allow him up to her apartment? Would he insist on tucking her into bed and giving her another goodnight kiss? The mere thought caused her breasts to tighten and sweat to trickle down between them.

Oh God, why did she suddenly want him in the worst way? It had to be the alcohol talking, because it was ludicrous to want Nicholas Trent in her bed when she wanted him out of her office.

Wasn’t it?

CHAPTER EIGHT

Nick drove into the underground parking garage, and after finding a space, killed the engine.

Shiloh had fallen asleep in the passenger seat, her head tilted his way. Even in the car her lightly freckled complexion intoxicated him. The fullness of her peach-colored lips always seemed to be pouting, and her long, burnt auburn lashes fanned her cheeks.

In an unconventional way, Shiloh was beautiful. Not the typical blond beach-babe he was normally attracted to, but she was a real woman.

He itched to reach out and brush off the strand of hair that had fallen into her face, but he resisted.

Taking in a deep breath, he forced down the lump forming in his throat.
Stop it, Trent. She’s your boss. Don’t think about her as a woman
.

Still, he allowed his gaze to travel down her long, delicate neck to the simple white blouse that gaped open. He noticed the lace of her matching bra peeked out beneath, exposing some of her flesh.

“Jeez,” Nick hissed, his jeans becoming uncomfortable. He was wrong; how could he not help but think about her like this. She was definitely a woman, and he couldn’t help but gawk at her cleavage. The word amazing came to mind. She was sexy as hell, and that realization made him angry.

Abruptly, he shook her arm. “Wake up, Shiloh. We’re here.”

Her green eyes fluttered open and she looked around, squinting with confusion. “Where are we?”

“Your parking garage. I’m going to help you up to your apartment.”

“No, I’ll be fine.” She reached for the door handle, but Nick stopped her.

“I am going to walk you up.”

She didn’t look pleased, but leaned back and waited for him to come around to help her out.

As he guided her on unsteady legs, to the elevator, Nick glanced around at the walls of concrete around them. He caught a flash of something that made him uneasy. He swung around.

“What?” She stared at him questioningly.

“Did you see that flash?”

Her eyes narrowed. “No, Why?”

“Because I did.”

Nick knew he wasn’t seeing things. Someone was nearby, and from what he could gather, they were taking more pictures. The photo in Shiloh’s office came rushing back. Could the person who took the snapshot be here in this parking garage? Now?

Was Shiloh in danger?

Nick quickly grasped her arm and rushed her to the elevator. He reached inside his jacket and unsnapped his shoulder holster, readying his revolver.

The elevator doors opened and he pushed her inside, shielding her with his body until they closed.

When the doors were secure, he exhaled and glanced at her.

Her lips twitched with amusement as she pressed the eleventh-floor button.

“What? You think this is funny?”

She nodded. “What are you doing?”

“I’m protecting you… What the hell do you think I’m doing?”

“Playing Bond. James Bond,” she said in a bad British accent, then giggled.

Nick scowled. “This is not a joke, and if you weren’t so drunk, you’d see that.”

“I’m not drunk.” She backed up and tripped over her heel.

Nick caught her before she fell backwards. He pulled her up hard against him. The contact was like a jolt of electricity to his system.

Her breasts brushed his chest and sent out an SOS to his brain that he was sinking fast. Their eyes met; the lustful invitation in her gaze turned their depths an iridescent green, instantly causing his groin to stir.

Seconds ticked by.

His heart raced. His cock hardened.

He leaned in, his lips inching closer to hers and the warmth of her breath fanned his cheek. Then the elevator doors swished open, and broke the spell.

Nick mentally shook himself, grabbed her hand, and pulled her down the hallway. "What number are you?"

"This one," she said next to the door

“You have your key?” He sounded angry to his own ears, but he couldn’t help it. She completely unnerved him.

She fumbled with her purse, going through it one item at a time, pulling out a tampon, then quickly stuffing that back inside. Her cheeks reddened and heat flooded his own face.

All he needed was to see her feminine products. That only reiterated the fact she was indeed a woman—a very desirable one, at that.

Frustrated, Nick rubbed his forehead impatiently. “Shiloh, the keys?”

She glanced up. “I know. I’m looking.”

“Look faster. I’m getting old here.”