Emotionally Compromised (Emotionally Compromised Series) (5 page)

Doing the Right Thing

ALEX TURNER

"Hello
, Alex."

I hear a whisper in my ear, and I can tell
who it is by the tone and how close his lips are to my ear. My throat goes dry at the thought as I peer up at the looming Jeremy Hunt, who is smiling at me.

Why is he always smiling at me like that?
It makes my gut clench
. What is he doing here?

He's wearing a tight black V-neck that makes all his muscles visible as he moves, and his fitted denim jeans hang on his hips. His blond hair looks win
dblown, and those piercing blue eyes are exactly as I remember them—they always feel like they are swallowing me whole. I gulp at the thought.

All I can manage is a weak smirk as I start to become confused. Why would he approach me here? At least I don't have to follow any rules out here in the open. I am also armed, which I find reassuring.

"Mind if I join you?" His arm gestures toward the empty chair next to me.

"Why?" I ask.
Agent Turner, you have no filter.

He laughs, though almost offended. "Because."

"That isn't a reason," I quip.

He huffs, pulls out the chair anyway, and takes a seat. My eyebrows furrow at his direct defiance, but I still can't stop my heart from beating so hard. Why does he have to be so damn attractive? I look like a mess. I came here for a last-minute study session. I
cannot focus with this Greek god of a human being sitting here, staring at me with those picture-perfect eyes. He's still an arrogant asshole—
don't forget that, Alex; stand your ground.
Oh, and let's not forget my job being on the line ... potentially.

He places his coffee on the table. His stark look makes me melt as he asks, "Why are you so mean to me?"

He avoids eye contact. Am I making him nervous?

The question shocks me. I guess I never thought of it that way. I swallow hard. "I'm sorry. I am just trying to protect myself."

He turns back to me. "Protect yourself? What do you mean? From whom?"

I smile
over the fact that he seems to be as frazzled as me with this encounter.

"From you, of course, Mr. Hunt."

"I told you, it's Jeremy. And that's ridiculous."

I laugh, which makes him laugh too. He reveals his full grin, making my heart skip a beat.

"
Ridiculous
? Did you just say it's ridiculous? It's not ridiculous. I know how you try and manipulate women, Mr. Hunt." I enunciate the T sharply.

His smile vanishes, and his eyes search mine for something, but for what?

"You think I manipulate women?" He tilts his head. I think he's debating whether he should be offended. I should not reveal how much I know about him, but he should know most of it is public knowledge.

I set my pencil on my book and sigh, decid
ing how honest I want to be.

"Is manipulation too harsh of a word for you?" I ask a little too sternly.

"I guess I didn't realize that's what I do."

"You do it all the time, well from what I can tell."

"Are you saying you observe me a lot?"
Always the big flirt.

I guffaw
and roll my eyes.

"Why is it that you think every woman is attracted to you? You're trying to manipulate me even now."

"Actually, I thought we were flirting, but if that is your definition of manipulation, then I don't know what to do with you. You know, you can be quite frustrating." He sips his coffee and raises his eyebrows, watching my every move.

I ponder the statement
, and it bothers me that he can knock me off track so easily, because in a way, he is right.

"You keep pushing me away
, and I can't figure out why. I don't think all women are attracted to me, but I know you are."

I pick my pencil back up and try not to look at him. I don't like this. I can feel my face heating with blush
, and I already don’t like how frequently it is happening now. Without looking at him, I respond with, "That's unfair."

"Alex, look at me." I can hear a smile in his statement, and with my name on his
lips, I reluctantly look at him. "How come you can be bluntly honest, sometimes almost hurtful, to me, but I can't be as honest with you? A taste of your own medicine doesn't seem to sit well with you."

I bite at my lip, pouting because the comment makes me angry. Catching me off guard, he lifts his hand to my chin, pulling my lip from my teeth.

"Don't do that. This isn't going as I had planned. If I have to leave here without a date, and the last image I have is of you chewing that lip, I might go nuts."

My
mouth hangs open after he lets go of my chin. His skins second encounter with mine leaves a wonderful tingling sensation. My anger dissipates, and an odd sense of desire replaces it. How can he say something like that to me? I'm shocked and even more embarrassed than I was before. He looks at me with a smile playing upon his lips, as if proud of himself.
Great.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

He bites back his smug look. "Doing what?"

"Playing with me?"

I'm frustrated with my reaction to him. I can't seem to keep my hormones in check, and the need to shoot off a few rounds to blow off steam and regain some control sounds like the best plan of action.

You've got some serious issues, Agent Turner.

He sighs as he sits back in his seat. His eyes flit over my body, causing every muscle in my core to tense.

"Alex, you've given me no choice. You play with me just the same. You answer everything I ask with another question. You've made me out to be the bad guy
, and I don't know how to shake that. I understand I overstepped my boundaries when we first met and I apologized for that. Yet, I suspect you haven't forgiven me for it. I'm trying to flirt with you. I know you love a good argument, hence the only type of relationship we've managed to have. It began the moment I met you. So, whatever I'm doing to you, I'm sorry." He exhales as if he had been holding his breath. "I can only assume it’s a habit of your environment." He gestures toward all my textbooks. There is a brief pause, and as if he can't help it or it just popped into his head, he asks, "Has Marcus been in touch?"
Ouch, topic change.

I block my guilt over Marcus from surfacing, and stifle my annoyance
that he hasn't given me an opportunity to tackle his list of comments, complaints, and inquiries. It’s overwhelming.

"No
, he hasn't."

I try to muster an excuse
, because he can't know the truth about why this all has to be this way. I decide to apologize for everything, and hopefully he will take it for what it is and leave, because my psyche, job, and hormones can't take much more of this.

"I'm sorry about everything. The
attitude and all. I'm on edge. I have this big test on Tuesday, and my whole life hinges on it. So, I have a lot on my mind. Also, you happen to be a distraction to my already chaotic life."

OK
, good. It is kind of the truth. We don't need to talk about Marcus Gibbs, right?

"A good distraction?" he asks
, smiling.
Damn, his smiling is infectious, the arrogant ass
.

"I haven't decided yet
." I practically bat my eyelashes at him.
Who are you and what have you done to badass secret agent Alex Turner, you lust-filled jezebel?

He rolls his eyes but still seems pleased.

"Alex, you are the most frustrating woman I have ever met. You are also the most challenging. I don't know why, but I am finding I like that. How is your studying going?"

I relax a bit even though I know I'm blushing. This topic I can handle.

"Great for the most part."

"You're an incredibly smart girl
; I am sure you'll do great."

"You've only just met me." I fidget in my seat. He
can't
get to know me any better than he does. It's already too much.

"You're definitely smart."

"Thank you." I shrug. How can he be so sure? He doesn't know me.

"See, that wasn't so hard
, was it?"

Confused by the question
, I perk up. "What wasn't?"

"Not arguing with me." I laugh and so does he.

He hums his approval at the sound. "See, that is much better."

I purse my lips into a smile
and look him directly in the eye.
What am I going to do?

"Mr. Hunt
—"

"Jeremy, please. I think we
have moved passed formalities. Or at least I hope we have."

"Hmm."

What am I doing flirting with this beautiful man? My life doesn't allow for a love interest. Hell, the one I have is currently kaput, and this could derail my job and future.

Yes, this man
could derail me. His adorable smile and boyish blue eyes would derail me if he railed me.
Ha!
My subconscious laughs at my wit.

"Would you like to get out of here? Maybe get some sustenance for your studying mind?"
he asks, tearing me away from my inner monologue. As I look at him, I realize even though the words sound confident, I can see behind those crystal depths that he is nervous. He should be.

"You don't want to take me out," I say. I plead with my eyes for him to go away. I try
to tell him with a glance that I am dangerous, no good, and entirely unavailable.

He shakes his head
as if rejecting the statement. "Excuse me, but I think I should be the judge of that."

Why can't I stop smiling while I talk to him? I don't like that I am becoming more relaxed around him
, because it leaves my wandering heart more vulnerable. I have worked too damn hard encasing that beating life force into a steel box.

His eyes are the distracting
gray color of the ocean, and I'm finding it hard to wrap my lips around my words.

"I-I mean
... you shouldn't pursue me, Jeremy." It's the damned truth!

"
You think I am going to give up now? I'm so close." He looks disgruntled. He opens his mouth to speak, then shuts it to think, but eventually continues. "I don't know what more I'd have to do other than to flat out tell you that I would like to take you out on a date. Tell me why I shouldn't take you out, and don't say Marcus, because for me that is not a good enough reason."

What is the appropriate answer to this? I have to think about it.

Oh! Because I am an undercover federal agent trying to seduce your best friend to find out when and to whom he is selling the biological weapon that he manufactured under the roof of your own company.

Before I can
respond, he asks bashfully, "Don't you like me, Alex?"

My face is unchanged, though his words throw me off balance. "Don't ask me things like that." I'm embarrassed, which is a feeling I don't know well, or know how to deal with.

"You don't like being vulnerable, do you?"

"
That is an understatement."

"Maybe you could learn to be with me."

It’s not that easy.

I sigh.
"Jeremy, it’s more than that. I don't want you to get attached. I wish I could explain, but I can't."

"Or do
you
not want to get attached?" He winks! He's too good at this.

My teeth grab at my bottom lip with an unknown fear. I don't like fear.

I sit up in my seat, squaring my shoulders and trying to get a hold of myself.

"
My job doesn't really allow me the time, and the place I'm headed may not be fitting for any sort of ... relationship."

"I could say the same about my job, but you don't see me walking
—or in your case running—away."

His words make me wince. He may be joking, but his words are truer than I'd like. I sigh, letting my arms fall onto the table.

Without a second thought, he confidently takes hold of my hand, and there it is, this electric current. I suppress the desire for more. What is happening? Normally, when a stranger reaches out to touch me, it makes me want to dislocate their shoulder, but he feels comforting. It bothers me, but only because it is a new sensation. I pull my hand out of his grasp, and place it under the table. It feels like something I am supposed to do, rather than what I want.

I peer into his eyes, and I can see him gauging my response in a wounded manner. I think he is holding his breath. His eyebrows furrow, and he no longer looks like a hotshot CEO, but a young kid, scared to hear what comes next.