Chapter 1 #3
“Who are you, Mary Poppins?” Harper chuckled.
She set her water onto the bar top, then slapped a hand on his shoulder and peered into his eyes.
“Picture this, an enemies-to-lovers romance. You argue. Act like you hate each other. And then”—she comically waggled her eyebrows a few times—“it’s game time. You two fall head over heels in love.”
Finn turned to check Roman’s reaction. He couldn’t possibly believe this insanity Harper was concocting. What had wedding planning done to the woman?
“Or just get Tinder. Swipe left or right. Or—”
“What do you know about dating apps?” Harper swung her focus on Roman, interrupting him.
“The man is our human Wikipedia. He knows something about everything,” Finn reminded Harper of her future husband’s big brain as well as the nickname the guys had given him. But he also knew Roman was just getting back at her for saying he and Finn dressed like twins.
“Mm. Have you ever swiped left or right?” Harper’s narrowed eyes were locked on Roman as a low, rumbly laugh erupted from deep in his chest right before he grabbed her waist and pulled her into him for what should probably have been a private moment.
“Nothing is going to happen between Julia and me,” Finn declared while Roman whispered something into Harper’s ear.
“As soon as her brother finds a replacement, I’m done.
” He rechecked her table, setting his eyes on her date, who looked nothing like Ryan Freaking Reynolds, the actor she claimed was her “type.”
This guy was a six-foot Italian who worked for some famous plastic surgeon and probably took advantage of all the services because who had skin that freaking smooth and tight?
He also shared more selfies of his abs on Instagram than you could shake a stick at.
According to his profile, he had no permanent address.
A man of the world was what he’d posted beneath his photo.
Whatever happened to meeting someone the old-fashioned way? Shit, and now he was drawing a blank on what the “old-fashioned” way even was.
Probably why I’m single at thirty-nine.
He was always working nonstop, though. This current break between missions wasn’t the norm. Their last op had rocked the boat, and POTUS had been holding off on having them operate until the dust settled.
Although, at this very moment, Bravo was taking down some baddies, so the dust was finally where it should be. And his people were ready to roll.
Finn focused on the happy couple, and Roman now had his arm around Harper’s back with her tight to his side. “Any word from Bravo?”
Harper checked her watch and smiled. “Not since you asked me ten minutes ago.”
“If we have to leave in the middle of the night, is anyone free yet to step in for me?” Finn dropped his voice lower despite the fact there was no one near them at the bar.
“I, um, did find one guy at Scott and Scott who is free. I have him on standby,” Harper answered.
Finn simulated the blades of a helo and spun his finger in the air. “Call him now. Let’s swap.” This was the best news he’d heard all day.
“You really want Ladies Man Kevin watching Julia?” Roman asked, a note of hesitation in his voice like he expected Finn to have an issue with the guy.
“Kevin? Sure, why not.” Kevin was a good guy, but he was also a charmer. But hell, better him than me, right? So why did Finn have an uneasy feeling about it?
“If we get the green light, he’ll handle her.” Harper checked her watch again and faked a yawn. “Getting late. I think it’s time we head home. What do you say?”
“Yeah, I’m beat.” Roman patted Finn on the shoulder a few times. “Good luck, man. Hope you survive the night.”
“You and me both,” Finn grumbled and said goodnight, then returned his attention to the corner booth across the room where Julia was supposed to be.
Annnnd she was gone. I suck at this bodyguard thing. He was about to rush to the ladies’ room and barge in, but he didn’t have to.
Julia was emerging from the back hallway, but instead of going toward her table where her date remained seated, she started straight for Finn.
Her long, wide-legged black pants hid whatever heels she had on, and he did his best not to focus on the sway of her hips as she moved with confidence. Her cleavage peeked above the deep scoop neck of her silky white top, too.
“We’re leaving.” Julia remained rooted in place, though.
“When you say ‘we,’ who exactly are you talking about?” Finn glanced over her shoulder at her date still sitting in the booth.
Julia merely waved a hand between herself and Finn in answer.
Their close proximity allowed him to get a whiff of her perfume as she lifted her chin.
Whatever she wore, it was most likely expensive.
And for some insane reason, it made his dick twitch ever so slightly as he stood and gazed down at her.
She was only five-six or so, and he was a solid six feet.
A legitimate six feet, too. According to Julia, any man claiming to be six feet tall on social media was actually five-ten.
And a six-two guy was six feet. So, he’d brought a tape measure with him the next day so she could verify his height for herself.
I’m not dating you. No need to check your honesty, she’d said.
No, but for the time being, your life is in my hands. I’d think you’d want to know that I’m trustworthy, he remembered responding only to get chilly silence for a return.
Julia still hadn’t budged other than to stretch her long neck as though trying to make herself look taller or more intimidating.
Which only resulted in Finn noticing how smooth and creamy her skin was there.
“Why aren’t you moving yet, sailor?” A dark brow rose even as her eyes stayed riveted on his.
Here we go again.
Finn broke first and blinked, then gave her an insincere smile. He wasn’t interested in playing chicken with a pro like her. “Not calling me a commando this time?” He allowed his phony smile to stretch so she knew her little jibes didn’t get under his skin as he lowered his face closer to hers.
He studied her features for a moment, not that he hadn’t already memorized every inch of her that wasn’t covered in clothing.
Her oval face, straight nose, and high cheekbones didn’t require any filters or magazine touch-ups.
She was perfect, at least to him. Irritatingly perfect.
And those ridiculously kissable lips . . .
Finn focused on her mouth that constantly wreaked havoc with him, whether she was driving him nuts by bossing him around, refusing to follow his suggestions, or doing that damn pouty kiss-me thing like she was doing now.
Dealing with Julia Maddox was HARD. And if she didn’t stop biting on her plump bottom lip, he’d need some private time to deal with something else that was hard.
As soon as her lip was no longer captive to the hint of white teeth, she whispered, “I’m walking home tonight.”
Why did she sound so breathless? For that matter, why was he feeling slightly dizzy?
What just happened?
He blinked, realizing she’d turned and already started for the door.
“It’s raining now,” he called out after her as the hostess scurried to open the door for Her Majesty.
Julia waved her hand in the air without turning back, already stalking toward the crosswalk as if she’d set her sights on her prey. “I’m not the wicked witch. I won’t melt.”
“Could have fooled me,” he said when he caught up with her, which earned a quick over-the-shoulder scowl his way.
There had to be something wrong with him because no matter how often Julia treated him like dirt on the bottom of her Manolos, her sass and attitude continued to turn him on.
Right now, he wanted to pin her to the closest building and tell her exactly what that rain-soaked white blouse was doing to him.
Share the dirty thoughts running through his mind.
Of course, he wouldn’t. At least, he didn’t think he would.
But damn, the vivid images he’d conjured up of the two of them ravishing each other had his blood running hot.
He’d swiftly pin her against the brick building at his three o’clock, whisk her arms over her head, and trap her slender wrists with one hand.
Startled, she’d stare at him, her pouty, red lips forming a perfect O, her breasts heaving with deep, angry breaths.
And then she’d give in and plead with him to make a move.
To suck her lip. Feel her tits over the material of her blouse now nearly sheer from the rain.
“Are. You. Coming?”
Finn jerked his head to see Julia standing on the other side of the crosswalk with her hands on her hips and her perfect hair growing wet.
Am I coming? Hm. Sadly, no.
It’d been way too long since he’d had sex. And that wicked mouth of hers was just—
“Dalton, damn it.”
His given name snapped him back to attention yet again. He really needed Kevin to take over for him. On a scale of one to ten, Finn was a negative five tonight in terms of professionalism.
He hurried across the street to join her and prayed for an act of God to prevent him from ogling her blouse and slipping back into that never-will-happen fantasy in his head.
“What is wrong with you? You truly suck at this job.”
“I know.” He smiled. “But you actually waited for me,” he replied in a glib voice as he worked to pull himself together. All Harper’s talk about dating must’ve screwed with his head. Both heads. “And I only suck because you don’t make shit easy, princess.”
She faced him, and he was proud of the fact he kept his eyes up top.
For all of two seconds, and then his eyes latched on to the beads of water sliding along the column of her slender neck, taking a nice ride down, down, down into her cleavage.
She was wearing a bra, at least.
“Eyes up, sailor.”
Why did her words turn him on so much? He’d swear she was two seconds away from hitting him in the head with her purse. “What happened with your date, by the way? Strike out?”