First Temptation (3 page)

Long, thick, shiny waves of copper tumbled around her shoulders, softening everything about her. And with her hair down, her hat off, a full view of the way those green eyes dominated her delicate face…

Oh yeah. He was going to eat his words.

“It’s getting hot in here.” She fanned herself with the ball cap. “Don’t you think, Agent Cordova?”

“If you’re hot, Agent, make yourself comfortable.” The humor in Rio’s voice dragged Taft’s gaze away from all that glorious hair. Rio crossed his arms and grinned at Taft with a you-started-it shake of his head. “You’re no longer on the clock.”

“Oh, thank you,” she breathed with exaggerated drama, drawing Taft’s gaze back just as both her hands moved to her uniform shirt and yanked it open. The snaps popped from her sternum down to her bellybutton in split-second succession, revealing a white undershirt.

Taft’s gaze widened in shock at the brash movement in such a public place. A second later, his body caught up with a rush of blood between his legs. He glanced at the tables nearby, found amused customers watching as well. But Brooks didn’t look the least bit apologetic or embarrassed as she slid the uniform shirt off her shoulders the same way she had her jacket. Beneath, the white undershirt turned out to be a body-hugging tank with ribbon-like straps, making Taft’s throat go dry.

The woman had a great rack.

“Are you a”—as his gaze roamed all the new curves, her nipples tightened beneath the fabric and heat exploded at the center of Taft’s body—“closet exhibitionist, Brooks?”

She folded the uniform shirt and laid it in Taft’s lap, leaning so close the heat of her skin and soft floral scent of her hair bathed him.

He caught her arm in his hand, gently. She froze. Her eyes snapped to his, and this close, he could see a smoky blue rim around the irises’ edge. “Those are some nasty bruises.” When she didn’t flinch or pull from his touch, he caressed a thumb over the cursive Z tattooed along her upper arm and continuing over her shoulder. A sweet, girly thing, with curlicues, ribbons, and flowers. “And this is awfully…feminine. Done by a fine artist.” He grinned up at her. “I’ve bet you’ve got some interesting…layers.”

A slow smile lifted her mouth, drawing his attention to her lips, to their shape, to the pretty teeth beneath, to the way her eyes lightened when she smiled. And he realized, he already had a really smokin’ hot partner. She just had all that heat tucked away, making her that much more intriguing.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she whispered, more of a tantalizing invitation than a snipe.

She straightened, and Taft let her arm slide through his fingers as she moved. Soft. Toned. She took her seat, pressed her forearms to the table, and leaned forward. He knew she was doing it to show off her cleavage, so he kept his gaze on her face.

Brooks picked up a piece of bacon, took a languid bite, then pressed the meat to Taft’s lips. “Want a bite, Agent?”

Taft took the rest of the piece up to her fingertips, making her gasp. Then smile. And, hell, those two things combined did wicked things to his body.

She tossed her hair to one side, rested her chin in her hand, set her lids to heavy, her voice to smoky, and said, “Still don’t think I can sex myself up enough for the job, Agent?”

Taft picked up Brooks’s orange juice and downed the small glass. She didn’t make a sound of protest. In fact, she smiled. A slow, hot smile…that did slow, hot things to his body.

“I have a whole new appreciation,” he said, drawing air, “for just how much of a woman a uniform can hide.”

Four

ZOE’S HEELS CLICKED ON THE STAMPED CEMENT of the Otay Mesa Premium Outlet mall. She turned down the row of shops housing Incognito and Fumar and paused in front of the adult shop.

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected but was relieved to discover a tasteful window display designed around poster-sized images of attractive couples engaged in pleasurable embraces, the centerpiece an oversized, glittering masquerade mask suspended from the ceiling.

“Okay,” she murmured. “This might not be so bad.”

Next door, Fumar’s interior hid behind flat gray blinds. A sign above the door handle read: MEMBERS ONLY.

Zoe took a deep breath and turned toward Incognito again. Nothing to do now but face…Walker. And…a store full of sex toys.

She grimaced. Then flashed back to Walker’s amazing face…body…voice…laugh.

After they’d stayed at the café another half hour going over the case, he hadn’t turned out to be as big an ass as she’d originally thought. Once he’d seen beneath her uniform and decided she was sexy enough to pull off that part of the cover, he’d dialed back the sarcasm and gotten down to business. Taft Walker had turned out to be knowledgeable, reasonable, confident.

Playful.

Funny.

Zoe bit her lip against a smile. After one short hour, he’d made her laugh as much as she laughed with the guys on her team whom she’d known for years. In fact, she’d grown to like him so quickly it sort of unnerved her. But all she had to do to cool her growing attraction was remember his lingering reservations over her abilities. Because while he thought she was sexy enough to be here, he wasn’t convinced she was talented enough to work undercover. And that irked her.

She replayed her fear from the night before and forced Taft’s strong body and all that black, wavy hair from her mind.

But not for long.

The first thing that hit her when she stepped into the store was his laugh. Deep, warm, and filled with a hot edge of innuendo.

Dammit. He shouldn’t be here yet. She’d come an hour early to get her bearings without him hovering or inspecting or ordering…

“There she is.” His smooth, deep voice cut across the small space and filled her belly with heat. “Hey, baby.”

He stepped out from behind a shelving unit in black jeans and a royal blue shirt, rolled up at the sleeves and open over a ribbed white tank, showing too much of his tanned chest and too many packed abs. His hair reminded Zoe of licorice and—
kill me now—
he’d powered his smile up to
melt
.

Walker’s dark eyes warmed and his gaze roamed her body with a familiarity he didn’t have. “Ah, hell,” he murmured with a hunger Zoe felt in her belly. “It’s gonna be hard to concentrate tonight.”

Three others stepped into the aisle to check Zoe out, two women and a man. From the information Rio had given her, Zoe knew one of the women was the store owner, Xiomara Cruise. She guessed the other two were customers.

Walker set the box in his hand down on a shelf and started toward Zoe. She knew a lot of men, but only a few who could pull off a good swagger and even fewer who could make it look sexy.

Walker was one of the fewest.

He gathered Zoe into his arms with an ultimate sense of confidence that fascinated her. It was as if he knew her body intimately, knew exactly how they’d fit together and simply placed all the pieces where they were meant to be.

She pressed her hands to his chest and leaned away automatically. It wasn’t like she had guys sweeping her off her feet every day. Unless, of course, she counted the illegal immigrants who somersaulted with her down an embankment, then held a gun to her head. Zoe hadn’t had a normal guy hold her like this in over eight months. Hadn’t had one make her feel this…untied…this quickly in…forever.

Her body filled with the same languid pleasure that came with a deep-tissue massage, or sinking into a Jacuzzi after a stressful week. But Walker’s hot body and spicy scent added an edgy quality that made Zoe restless. Hungry. Impatient.

“You clean up nicer than I expected, Brooks.” His gaze slid slowly to her hands holding him away. His full lips tilted in challenge or mockery, she couldn’t tell which, and he met her eyes again. “But…are you on board…or not?”

“O-of course.” Her voice broke, and color burned her cheekbones.

Walker grinned. That grin that made her spine soften. “Then relax, sugar. And enjoy your work.”

He lowered his head and kissed her.

He
kissed her
.

And Zoe had one of those surreal
how in the hell did I get here?
moments. She was standing in a sex shop, kissing a stranger, in front of more strangers.

But his kiss was nothing more than a soft press of his lips. And not the least bit romantic with his eyes open and on hers, filled with silent challenge.

Now, challenge was something Zoe knew all about.

When he leaned away, Zoe released her air, let her body relax against his, and linked her fingers behind his neck. She hummed at the sensual feel of all that muscle, and her underused libido surged.

“Oh yeah,” he murmured, his voice soft, thick, and lavishing approval. “That’s better.”

“Wait,” she whispered. “I’m not done yet.”

She stretched, sliding her body along his slowly, feeling every swell and groove and plane before she pressed her lips to his. His mouth remained firm, chaste. His eyes remained open, but a clear new awareness burned hot.

She tugged on his neck, pulling their mouths flush, and licked his bottom lip. His hands fisted in the waistband of her slacks.

She gazed into those blazing golden eyes and pulled back just enough to whisper, “Are you on board, Walker, or not?”

He growled. Opened his mouth. Closed his eyes. And really kissed her.

Zoe swore a conduit existed between her mouth and her sex. The touch of Walker’s tongue flooded her pelvis with heat where it melted between her legs. He tasted like specialty coffee heated to perfection. Sweet, bitter, and decadent. One hand curled into her hair and cupped her head. The other used her belt to pull her hips up and into his, making sure she felt every inch of his package—not easily missed. His tongue slowly stroked hers, moving, probing, tasting. Zoe had never realized how much like fucking a kiss could be. But she’d obviously been kissing the wrong men. He broke away only to suck at one of her lips, then dive back in to do it all…freaking…over…again.

Christ…that was so…
goooooood
.

She had no doubt sex with him would be even better.

“Excuse me…”

An expectant female voice pulled Walker out of the kiss. But not away from Zoe. His gaze had darkened to molten bittersweet chocolate, his breath hot on her lips. “Damn.” His voice touched her ears in a thick rasp. “I love this fucking job.”

A soft buzzer sounded near the cash register, and Zoe recognized it as a signal of an open front door. When she glanced that direction, Zoe was glad Taft had kept one arm around her waist, because not only had he left her dizzy, her brain cells were scattered in a dozen different directions. She caught sight of the customers leaving before she turned back to the woman standing in front of them, the owner Zoe should be engaging. But her mind was focused on the burn in her lips, the heavy pulse between her thighs, the ache in her breasts. All with
one
kiss. Their
first
kiss.

“I’m Xiomara Cruise. Call me Mara.” The woman clasped her hands at her chest and gave Zoe a once-over but remained serious. “And you are lovely. What a surprise.” She shot Walker a frustrated look. “Definitely the light to your dark.”

He grinned, and his arm slid away from Zoe’s waist. “I’m not that bad.” He glanced at her, his eyes heavy lidded. They immediately dropped to her mouth, and he licked his lips. “But she sure as hell just lit me up, so I’m not arguing. I’m going to splash cold water on my face. I’ll man the store while you get the third degree.”

When Walker turned away, Mara passed another head-to-toe glance over Zoe and whispered, “You’re too pretty to be police.”

The woman’s Hispanic accent came out in the way she pronounced poh-leaz, making Zoe smile. Mara was probably in her early thirties but looked barely twenty-five. She was a beauty, with a slightly exotic look.

“Thank you.” Zoe smoothed a hand over her slim gray slacks, pinstriped in light blue to match her V-neck sleeveless blouse. It crisscrossed tightly over her breasts, then hung loose to her waist in a handkerchief hem. The sheer fabric made the blouse both pretty and sexy. “You don’t need to worry about the store. I have a lot of retail experience, and Agent Walker and I—”

“Shh.” The woman darted glances around the store like she expected Vice to rush in.

Mara dragged Zoe into an adjoining room. Across one entire wall, clear plastic shelves displayed…

Holy. Shit.

Zoe’s mouth dropped open. She averted her gaze from that wall and turned so the million-and-one dildos were out of her direct line of sight.

Okay, she’d expected a few. But
so many
? And on
display
? Why weren’t they in
boxes
or something?

“You can’t say those kinds of things in here, señorita,” Mara said, her dark eyes imploring, her voice warm but strong. “Half my customers feel guilty of a crime by simply walking in the store. If they suspect you and Taft are
policia
, I’ll go bankrupt.”

Walker’s deep laugh rolled through the store. Mara’s eyes narrowed. She crossed her arms, leaned backward, and glared through the walkway leading out of the dildo mecca.

This assignment wouldn’t last long. Zoe had chased violent, sociopathic, money-grubbing, drug-toting, raping, murdering cartel members through the night for eight years. She could certainly maintain a presence with a few stationary, crazy-looking, space-age devices for a couple of weeks.

“He’s trouble, that one,” Mara muttered. “I knew it the minute he stepped in the door. Don’t let him extend my Fifty Shades BDSM lair over the entire store while I’m gone.”

BDS—what?

Zoe knew she should have spent the afternoon on Google instead of sleeping.

“Of course not. We won’t change your…um…displays. Hopefully, this will go quickly so we can get out of here and get you back in.”

Mara’s dark eyes narrowed on Zoe, and her shoulders slid low. “Oh no. You’ve got to be kidding me.” She lapsed into Spanish, muttering worst-case scenarios of how her store would never survive.

Zoe had been made as a sex-store virgin. All-freaking-ready.

“Mara, shh. You have customers.”