Chapter 30

We'd been here for an hour, and I was just about to tell Tristan to forget about it and take me home when a woman approached from the east on the opposite side of the street. Her hair wasn't as bleached, and she was dressed rather casually in a pair of black shorts, a pink tank top with some kind of colored pattern on the front, and flip-flops, but there was no mistaking that pretty face.

Tristan saw her at the same time as I did and held up his phone, zooming in to take some photos.

"Is that her?" Enzo asked.

"It sure as hell looks like her," he said. "The hair is different."

"That doesn't mean anything," Enzo told him. "Women are like chameleons these days. A different color for every day of the week."

I opened the car door and got out.

"Whoa. Whoa. Wait. Luca! Where the fuck are you going?" Enzo jumped out of the car and jogged around the front, one hand slipping inside of his jacket to rest on the handle of his gun as he quickly cased the area. "What are you doing?" he asked when he came to stand beside me. I ignored his questions as I buttoned my suit jacket. It was already hot, waves of heat coming up from the pavement. My shirt would be stuck to my back by the time I made it across the street, but I couldn't very well walk around with my gun in plain sight without drawing attention.

"It's all right," I told him. "Get back in the car."

"Luca, no. It's too dangerous. This wasn't part of the plan."

He was right. But I needed to see for myself. "I just want to make sure it's her. I'll be right back." Checking for cars, I jogged across the street and got into position to intercept her, blending in with a group of office workers heading to the nearest coffee shop or whatever they did on their breaks these days.

As I got closer, I saw she was wearing earbuds and my eyes narrowed. The easiest way to get assaulted was to not be aware of your surroundings. Dragging my attention from her flawless face, prettier than I remembered, I saw her tank top had a multi-colored peace sign on the front, and the hem of her shorts was frayed in places. A fashion choice? Or was she a woman who didn't feel the need to impress every time she was out in public. That wasn't the impression I'd gotten from her television appearance.

I sped up my steps so I would reach the door of the building at the same moment she did. She paid no attention to me as I suddenly broke off from the group, pretending to look down at my phone. I stepped into her path and reached for the door handle, acting surprised when she crashed into my right side.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" Startled, she jumped back so fast she lost her footing.

Her soft voice rippled over my skin, touching me as intimately as a woman's fingers. I reached out and grabbed her around the waist with one arm as she flailed backwards, then helped her to right herself. Her skin was warmed from the sun beneath her shirt, and my grip on her tightened instinctively before I remembered myself and let her go.

She took a step back and lifted her hands to brush her hair out of her face. I inhaled, preparing to speak, and her scent drifted over me. I froze, my entire body from the top of my head to the soles of my feet suddenly tightened with need. I'd expected some type of cloying perfume or flowery lotion, but she only smelled clean and slightly like fresh oranges...and her own natural musk, sweeter than anything made in a lab.

She stared up at me with those wide eyes, and I saw they were gray, not as blue as they'd appeared on the television. "Thank you," she said a little too loudly. I tried to hear what she was listening to, but the constant traffic and construction drowned out everything else. "And again, I'm so sorry." Unsettled by my reaction to her, I found it difficult to respond right away. Her pleasant expression faltered, and she looked away, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she waited for me to get out of the way. "No,"

I finally said, giving myself an internal shake, "please accept my apologies. I wasn't watching where I was going."

The corners of her mouth turned up as she pulled an earbud out of her ear. "Sorry, but I didn't hear a word you just said." She had only the tiniest hint of a southern accent. Which told me she hadn't been born here, but had acquired it after living in Texas for many years.

That little tease of a smile was one of the sexiest things I'd ever seen. After a moment, I said, "I was apologizing. It was my fault we ran into each other. I had my eyes on my phone." I paused, then reached for the door handle and pulled it open for her. "Allow me."

"Thank you," she said simply, and stuck her earbud back in as she flounced past me and into the building, her sandals flapping loudly in the cavernous foyer.

I didn't follow her.

I would see her again soon enough.