An Inconvenient Affair (The Alpha Brotherhood #1)(18)
Author: Catherine Mann

Oh. My. She arched into him, against the rigid length of his arousal pressing so perfectly against her.

A purr of pleasure clawed up her throat, echoed by his growl of approval. Apparently this was a language optional make-out session.

His hands slid from her hair, roved down her back and slid under her bottom. In a fluid move, he flipped her onto her back and stretched over her on the sofa. The weight of him felt good, so very good, intensifying every pulsing sensation. The fabric of the sofa rubbed a sweet abrasion against her tingling nerves.

She hooked a leg over his, throwing back her head as he kissed along her jaw and over to her ear. His hot breath caressed her skin with the promise of how good that mouth would feel all over her body. She tipped her face, shaking her hair back and giving him fuller access as he tugged on her earlobe with his teeth. In an out-of-control moment, she flung out an arm to steady herself. Her fingers clenched the coffee table—

Sending her full china cup clattering to the ground.

Troy froze, then looked to the side sharply before sweeping his computer away from the spilled coffee. The rush of air along her overheated body brought a splash of much-needed reason. What the hell was she doing? She’d only just met the guy and already she’d kissed him twice. She’d wanted to show him how she could kiss and walk away, and she’d ended up beneath him.

Gasping, she swung her feet back to the ground, her toes digging into the plush Persian cotton. The rush back to earth was slower than she expected; her senses were still on tingling alert. Giving in to the temptation to kiss him hadn’t been her best idea. She should be focused on the video feed, on finding Mr. Mystery Cohort as soon as—

Squinting, she studied a far corner of the screen, just a hint of a flashy gold ring that looked familiar, with some kind of coin embedded on the top. The fog of passion parted enough for her to process what was right in front of her eyes.

“Troy, hold on a second.” She grabbed his shoulder. Her fingers curled instinctively around him for a second before she pulled back.

“What’s wrong?” He looked over his shoulder.

“On the TV, can you play with the image for me? There…” She pointed to the top left corner as he righted his computer and sat again. “Can you find a reflection of the face of that guy wearing the ugly gold ring?”

“Of course I can.” He dropped back onto the sofa with his laptop, his hair still askew from her frenzied fingers. She seriously needed to rein in her out-of-control emotions.

She clenched her fists against the temptation to finger comb his hair back into place and focused her attention forward. In a flash, the picture zoomed in, with a clarity that boggled her mind. Whatever software he had beat the hell out of anything she’d seen on Law & Order reruns. The picture moved and inverted as he shuffled the views, pulling up reflections off a number of sources until…

Bingo.

“That’s him,” Hillary said, standing and walking closer even though she didn’t need any further confirmation. “That’s Barry’s business partner.”

* * *

Two hours later, Troy leaned in the open doorway to Hillary’s room as she packed her small suitcase.

After she had ID’d the face in the video feed, they’d contacted Salvatore. Troy had only caught one glimpse of Barry Curtis’s cohort at a regatta race in Miami, but he agreed the face fit what he remembered. Now Salvatore was off making his calls to contacts. Since they had a face to run through international visual recognition systems, hopefully soon they would have a name. An honest to God lead, a trail to follow. They would have the guy in custody soon.

But in the interim, Troy needed to make sure no backlash came Hillary’s way for bringing down a multibillion-dollar international money laundering operation. He needed to keep her in his sights. And lucky for him, thanks to the bachelor auction, going their separate ways wasn’t going to be that easy to accomplish. Aside from the fact that everyone in that ballroom had seen them together, the tabloids had snapped photos that were already circulating around the blogosphere. Follow-ups would come their way, questions on how they’d spent their weekend together. She couldn’t just duck out of sight, and he couldn’t let her stand alone and vulnerable in the spotlight.

He had to admit, time with Hillary would not be a hardship in the least.

Thanks to a pair of killer high heels, her already-amazing legs looked even more train-stopping. Her black tank top and wide belt drew his eyes to every curve he’d felt pressed against him earlier. Curves he was determined to explore at length someday in the not-too-distant future.

He might be completely the wrong man for a rose-colored glasses chick, but that last kiss from Hillary made it impossible for him to turn away. She would be his. The only question was when.

Now that their first goal of the weekend had been accomplished, he would have time with her to figure that out. She might think she was going home to D.C., but he had other plans. He just needed to persuade her.

Hillary flicked her damp ponytail over her shoulder. “What’s wrong, Troy? Aren’t you happy? We helped them identify the guy.” She zipped her roll bag closed. “He won’t be able to rip people off anymore. You delivered justice today.”

“He’s not in custody, and he’s smart.” Troy shoved away from the door, taking her question as an invitation to enter her bedroom in the shared suite. “If he realizes you’re the one who identified him… No, I’m not ready to celebrate yet.”

“I’ll be fine.” Her confidence was hot.

Too bad it was also misguided.

“You’re too damn naive about this. You’re going to take time off from work and come with me. I know a great, low-profile place where you can put your feet up and relax until this all blows over.”

“That he-man act may work with some women, but not with me. I’m going home. The whole reason I came to Chicago was to ID this guy so I could go back to the job I love.” She hefted up her suitcase.

He thought about taking the bag from her, but a tug-of-war would likely make her pull back all the more. He sat on the end of the chaise by the window. “You can’t return to D.C. Not yet. You need to lie low until the authorities bring him in.”

“That’s a rather open-ended timeline.” She dropped the bag to the ground and sat on it. “I can’t just duck out of my life indefinitely.”

Good. At least she wasn’t walking out the door. “The colonel assures me it will be a week, two weeks tops. Take emergency leave—say you’ve got a sick mother.”