morning. Although he
did
say he died and went to heaven.”
The cop’s jaw tightened visibly. “You’re claiming you weren’t near Buena Vista Park yesterday?”
She felt a measure of satisfaction. Suppressing asmirk, she pressed her body to his. “I’m not much of a nature girl, but I’d make an exception for you.”
He glared at her. “I’ll need your partner’s information so I can verify your alibi.”
“I’d rather have your information.” She pulled Ramirez closer. The cold button of his suit coat brushed her bared belly, and goose bumps rose on her skin.
The smell of
tarata
wrapped around her again, making her feel off balance, like she was in a different, happier world.
A delusion. She’d never be happy as long as the Bad Man was running loose. The sooner she got away from the cop, the sooner she could return to figure out how the club owner knew her nemesis.
She shook off the feeling and channeled her determination into a sultry smile. “Actually, I’d rather have you.”
Willow leaned in and kissed him.
The kiss started out as candy sweet and empty, just enough lip to distract him. But he just stood there and let her kiss him, no reaction on his part. That annoyed her, so she gave a little more.
It backfired.
Yes, Ramirez responded, but his reaction drew a startling one from her. Suddenly she was pressed against the door, his body flush against hers. He was perfect—in her heels, they were the same height. His hands gripped her sides, firm and masterful.
It made her uncomfortable. It made her hot. It made her want him.
No—
she
didn’t want him. She had to keep that clear in her head. Her body wanted him, but her body wasn’t in charge here.
As if to prove her wrong, her leg slipped between his. The ridge of his growing erection pressed into her thigh. She resisted—barely—the urge to let her hand trail over it. But she couldn’t resist rubbing it with her leg.
He growled into her mouth, and his hands tightened on her.
And then he let go and stepped back.
Not far enough. She could still feel his energy surging at her. It made her woozy, like she was going to sway back into his arms. Only she wasn’t the type of woman to sway. So she slipped back into the role of femme fatale.
Leaning against the door, she crossed her arms and smirked at him. She glanced right—the bartender had moved past them. Time to get out. “Not bad. But not good enough for a next time.”
She reached for the door, but he caught her arm. “It didn’t escape my notice that you never gave me your name.”
Of course it hadn’t—he was entirely too observant. She frowned, dropping the sexpot act and going for bitchy hauteur. “Am I being detained?”
“Not yet, but if you don’t cooperate, I’ll take you in on obstruction of justice.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I believe I’ve been cooperative.”
“Is that what you’d call this?”
She tugged her arm, testing his grip. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”
His face went stony. “Your name.”
“Sophie Mitchell,” she lied smoothly, using one of her aliases. She peeled his hand off her and stepped around him. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”
He blocked her exit, pulling out a small black notepadand pen from his inner coat pocket. “I’ll need your contact information, too.”
She gave him a chilly smile. “I’m in the book.”
His attention wavered for a moment as he flipped open his notebook. Willow took the opportunity to dart out the door, pulling her energy inward to become invisible.
She heard his vehement oath as he followed her outside. He stopped and searched for her. She forced herself to breathe and keep moving, even though his gaze seemed to track her.
But that was impossible. He couldn’t sense her if she didn’t allow it. If he were another Guardian, maybe. Only he wasn’t. Her mother told her she would have sensed another Guardian. Not that she expected to ever run into one. Four others in the whole world?
did
say he died and went to heaven.”
The cop’s jaw tightened visibly. “You’re claiming you weren’t near Buena Vista Park yesterday?”
She felt a measure of satisfaction. Suppressing asmirk, she pressed her body to his. “I’m not much of a nature girl, but I’d make an exception for you.”
He glared at her. “I’ll need your partner’s information so I can verify your alibi.”
“I’d rather have your information.” She pulled Ramirez closer. The cold button of his suit coat brushed her bared belly, and goose bumps rose on her skin.
The smell of
tarata
wrapped around her again, making her feel off balance, like she was in a different, happier world.
A delusion. She’d never be happy as long as the Bad Man was running loose. The sooner she got away from the cop, the sooner she could return to figure out how the club owner knew her nemesis.
She shook off the feeling and channeled her determination into a sultry smile. “Actually, I’d rather have you.”
Willow leaned in and kissed him.
The kiss started out as candy sweet and empty, just enough lip to distract him. But he just stood there and let her kiss him, no reaction on his part. That annoyed her, so she gave a little more.
It backfired.
Yes, Ramirez responded, but his reaction drew a startling one from her. Suddenly she was pressed against the door, his body flush against hers. He was perfect—in her heels, they were the same height. His hands gripped her sides, firm and masterful.
It made her uncomfortable. It made her hot. It made her want him.
No—
she
didn’t want him. She had to keep that clear in her head. Her body wanted him, but her body wasn’t in charge here.
As if to prove her wrong, her leg slipped between his. The ridge of his growing erection pressed into her thigh. She resisted—barely—the urge to let her hand trail over it. But she couldn’t resist rubbing it with her leg.
He growled into her mouth, and his hands tightened on her.
And then he let go and stepped back.
Not far enough. She could still feel his energy surging at her. It made her woozy, like she was going to sway back into his arms. Only she wasn’t the type of woman to sway. So she slipped back into the role of femme fatale.
Leaning against the door, she crossed her arms and smirked at him. She glanced right—the bartender had moved past them. Time to get out. “Not bad. But not good enough for a next time.”
She reached for the door, but he caught her arm. “It didn’t escape my notice that you never gave me your name.”
Of course it hadn’t—he was entirely too observant. She frowned, dropping the sexpot act and going for bitchy hauteur. “Am I being detained?”
“Not yet, but if you don’t cooperate, I’ll take you in on obstruction of justice.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I believe I’ve been cooperative.”
“Is that what you’d call this?”
She tugged her arm, testing his grip. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”
His face went stony. “Your name.”
“Sophie Mitchell,” she lied smoothly, using one of her aliases. She peeled his hand off her and stepped around him. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”
He blocked her exit, pulling out a small black notepadand pen from his inner coat pocket. “I’ll need your contact information, too.”
She gave him a chilly smile. “I’m in the book.”
His attention wavered for a moment as he flipped open his notebook. Willow took the opportunity to dart out the door, pulling her energy inward to become invisible.
She heard his vehement oath as he followed her outside. He stopped and searched for her. She forced herself to breathe and keep moving, even though his gaze seemed to track her.
But that was impossible. He couldn’t sense her if she didn’t allow it. If he were another Guardian, maybe. Only he wasn’t. Her mother told her she would have sensed another Guardian. Not that she expected to ever run into one. Four others in the whole world?
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