When the water ran cold, Harper figured she’d given Galen enough time to show up and relieve Peggy. She turned off the shower and threw on a fluffy white bathrobe. She arranged her wet, curling locks so that they looked just the right amount of messy. Then checked her bathrobe and adjusted it so the lapel hung open enough to reveal the upper swell of her breasts and a generous amount of cleavage. If she was simply another job to Galen, seeing her like this wouldn’t bother him at all. Right? Then again, she could look like a total train wreck, which might turn him off for good. Damn it, if Sophie were here . . .
Shake it off, Harp. Focus. This isn’t about getting him into bed. It’s about throwing him off his game. Eye on the prize. Right? Right.
Pep talk concluded, Harper walked out into the living room, pretending to towel-dry the ends of her hair. She forced herself to look up slowly, and feigned surprise when her eyes locked on Galen’s.
“Oh, hey. I didn’t realize it was so late already. Did Peggy leave?”
Galen waited a beat too long to answer and Harper gave herself a mental high-five. His eyes lingered on her chest before he dragged his gaze up to meet hers. “She left about ten minutes ago.”
“So, how was your time off ?” Harper plopped down on the couch like she was settling in to gossip with a girlfriend. She tucked her knees under her and didn’t bother to do anything about the fact that her robe gaped open to reveal her upper thighs. “Did you do anything fun?”
Galen shifted his weight from one foot to the other like he wasn’t quite sure what he should do. Or maybe, where he should sit. His gaze traveled the length of her body, and Harper suppressed a shiver. God, he could get to her with just a look. She wondered what he’d do if she loosened the tie and opened her robe. Would he reject her? Walk out on her like he had last year? Or would he strip down and take her right there on the couch? Oh, the possibilities . . .
When Galen’s eyes finally met hers, she noticed an almost imperceptible hardening. “It was all right,” he said as though she weren’t sitting there, practically naked, in front of him. “I hung out with Michelle, slept in, watched
SportsCenter
. Nothing too exciting.”
“The fast-paced life of a U.S. Marshal,” Harper said as she feigned a yawn. “You want some coffee? I was just about to make some.” Well, some more, anyway.
“Sure.” Galen stayed planted to the spot on the floor where he stood. If Harper hadn’t noticed the muscle twitch at his jaw, he would have painted quite the relaxed picture.
She pushed herself off the couch, careful to pretend that modesty was the last thing on her mind. God, she hoped her boob hadn’t popped out of her robe.
Play it cool, Harp. Don’t look
. A nip slip, whether intentional or not, was uncool. Wardrobe malfunctions: not sexy. She slung the towel over her shoulder and gathered her damp hair into a messy bun, tucking the ends in the twisted knot to keep it all in place. Galen pivoted on a heel, following her movement into the kitchen, though he didn’t move to follow her.
“Crap. Peggy’s taller than me and she put the coffee up too high yesterday. Do you think you can get it for me?”
Galen gave a long-suffering sigh as he followed her into the kitchen, and Harper pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. She didn’t move, not an inch, forcing Galen to reach over her in order to get to the canister of coffee from the shelf. Her breath caught in her chest as his body brushed against hers, and she looked up to find him staring down at her, his blue eyes smoldering with an intensity that made her knees weak. Holy. Shit.
Had she ever met a more attractive man? She was certain she’d never met one who could make her body hum with desire just by standing close. That is, until now. Her thighs brushed together and Harper swallowed. Her core was slick, ready for him, and he hadn’t even touched her. Likewise, her pulse jumped to a brisk thrum in her veins and she took a deep, steadying breath. Seductress? No, Harper was one-hundred-percent seduced.
Chapter Eighteen
Holy shit, was she trying to
kill
him?
After a night of no sleep, a thirty-minute cold shower this morning, and a twenty-minute drive’s worth of the least erotic thoughts he could conjure—puppies, grandmas in swimsuits, compound leg fractures—he’d finally gotten his lust under control. And then, bam! Harper walks out of her bedroom damned near naked, damp tendrils of hair teasing her neck where they’d escaped the haphazard mess she’d piled atop her head, leaving enough skin exposed to send Galen’s imagination running wild.
And now her body was touching his in more places than it had in a year, her hazel eyes soft and liquid, her mouth parted and inviting. Absolutely maddening. One tug on that belt and the robe would fall open to reveal her body to him. Six inches to close between them and his mouth could taste hers. He took a deep breath and inhaled her clean, floral scent. Screw the coffee. He wanted to lift her up on the counter and pound into her until neither one of them remembered their names.
Whoa, buddy. Put the brakes on
. The last remaining shred of logic in Galen’s brain latched on and took hold. If he didn’t cool his jets, he’d be pitching a tent in his slacks big enough for a carnival troupe to camp under. He’d just come off suspension and he’d managed to piss off the FBI’s lead agent. Fucking a witness on her kitchen counter wasn’t going to earn him any points with his boss or the FBI. Career suicide: not on his agenda for today. Besides, something was up. Harper wasn’t the brazen type. Her behavior had thrown him for a loop, sure. But either she had no clue how damned desirable she was right now, or she was working an angle.
“Here you go.” He shoved the canister into her hand and took a couple of steps back. Really, he’d need to be standing out on the street before he’d put enough distance between them and even then it might not be enough.
Harper’s brow puckered and she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. Goddamn it, that was sexy. He wanted to suck her lip into his mouth and—“Thanks.” Harper set the canister down on the counter and gathered the folds of her robe tighter around her body before cinching the belt tight. She turned her back to him and grabbed a coffee filter out of the drawer. “Do you have any work to catch up on today?”
In the span of a couple of seconds, her tone had become more conversational. Formal. And a hell of a lot less breathy. Galen felt the distance grow between them, as though a cavern had opened up in the middle of the kitchen. He walked around to the other side of the counter and perched on one of the bar stools. “I’m caught up on paperwork for now. Are you still on vacation?”
Harper gave a derisive snort. “Vacation. That’s one way to put it, I guess. But yeah, I am. So . . .” She hit the power button on the coffeemaker and turned to lean against the counter. “Since we’re both going to be bored all day, why don’t we break some rules and hit your sister’s bakery for a couple of apple fritters?”
The suggestion was a little out of left field, but Harper was a pastry freak. And she’d raved about Michelle’s apple fritters. It violated protocol, but maybe it was best if they left the confinement of her apartment behind today. Galen knew he could use the space. “Sure.” Harper handed him a mug and set the sugar and cream on the bar countertop. “If we leave soon, they’ll be fresh out of the oven.”
“Um, no, not now,” she replied too quickly as she poured coffee into his mug. “I have a phone call with my lawyer in about an hour, so maybe around noon? I don’t mind if the fritters aren’t fresh out of the oven.”
“Okay.” Galen took his cup and headed into the living room. He grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV. Her behavior was a little out of the ordinary, and though he wasn’t complaining about her attire—maybe they could institute bathrobe Fridays—he was still suspicious of her motives. Harper was usually pretty up front, and Galen couldn’t help but feel like he was being managed. In this case, he thought it best to err on the side of caution. Maybe she was trying to distract him with her body? For the record, it was totally working, but he had to at least try to beat her at her own game. “Go get dressed, though, will you? If Monroe stops by for a visit, I’ll be hitting the unemployment line by the end of the day. Feel me?”
“Feel me?” Harper muttered under her breath in her best arrogant U.S. Marshal impersonation as she threw on a pair of jeans and a V-neck tee. She brushed out her hair and gathered it up into a ponytail. Okay, so using her seductive feminine wiles to turn Galen into a malleable lump of clay in her palm hadn’t worked out like she’d planned. It might have helped to actually
know
how to be seductive, too. He’d looked at her like she had a third eye, or a horn growing out of her forehead.
Go, Harp! Way to rock your sex appeal
.
Had she misinterpreted the vibe he was throwing off? He’d gone from hot to ice cold in a minute flat. Like it mattered. Harper was stubborn, and she’d held out hope that Galen would remember her. Their night together. Why did she have to continue to remind herself that she was a notch on his bedpost, and now, nothing more than someone he was paid to look after? Her seduction tactics had been an epic fail, but at least she’d managed to get him to leave the condo today. Once they got to the bakery, she could give him the slip and take the light rail to the art museum. The suggestion to meet there had been pretty brilliant on Meader’s part. No way would anyone look for her there.
When Harper emerged from her bedroom yet again, Galen had his feet propped up on the coffee table as he scrolled through channels. “Have you ever noticed how truly awful daytime TV is?”
She rolled her eyes at his attempt at small talk and took a seat in the recliner next to the couch. “It’s not all awful. TNT shows reruns of
Supernatural
.”
“What’s that about?”
Harper stared, mouth agape. How could she possibly be attracted to him? They didn’t even like the same things. “
Supernatural
is pretty much the best show on TV. Dean and Sam Winchester are demon hunters and all-around badasses. You’re missing out.”
“They’re probably Hollywood pretty boys, too, right? Too cute for words.” Galen mocked a swoon.
Incensed, Harper jacked her chin up a notch. “Maybe. But that’s not why the show is good.”
Galen laughed and it caused her indignation to boil even hotter. “Right. That’s like saying guys watch the Lingerie Football League for the sportsmanship.”
Did he actually watch that crap? Harper could feel her eyes trying to pop out of her head. “No, you watch it for the fake boobs and ass cheeks hanging out of their booty shorts.”
Galen shrugged as though he couldn’t argue.
“At least what I’m watching displays a modicum of intelligence,” she continued. Harper’s face flushed and she knew her cheeks must be red as a beet. Why was she letting him get under her skin like this? “I mean, seriously, Galen. Is that what you like? Half-naked women slapping their teammates on the ass and tackling each other to the ground, pretending to be respectable athletes while they roll around on artificial turf in a bra and panties?”
“Maybe.” His sardonic reply made Harper want to slap the smug grin off his face. “I’m a very dedicated sports fan.”
Argh!
It was moments like this that Harper wished she had laser vision. She glared at Galen, imagining him bursting into flames from the heat shooting from her eyes while she laughed maniacally in the background. Her stomach burned and clenched tight. Her entire body vibrated with . . . not rage, but something else. Ah, crap. Was she actually
jealous
? Totally, completely jealous of a bunch of good-looking women simply because he admired their bodies on some ridiculous television show? What was wrong with her?
“Yeah, well, at least the shows I watch aren’t completely mindless.” She should stop. Right now. Don’t poke the bear. Oh, wait. She was the bear. So did that mean she was poking herself? “Yeah, the guys on
Supernatural
are smoking hot. Would I stop watching if Dean Winchester walked around in his tighty whities every episode? Hell, no. But he’s not rolling around in the dirt with his equally sexy co-star, slapping him on the ass every five seconds, either. The show has actual substance.”
“Oh, so it’s like that?” Galen’s brows came down sharply over his eyes, a crease digging into his forehead above the bridge of his nose. “You’re harboring quite the double standard, there, don’t you think?”
Harper rolled her eyes. Of course she was. It was obvious! “No. Not at all. I’m not objectifying anyone with the shows I watch.”
“Really?” Galen leaned forward in his seat. Damn, when had their voices escalated? Harper only now realized they were both on the verge of shouting. She shot up out of her chair and Galen followed suit. Pent-up frustration boiled within her. She was so sick of all of this. Galen, her situation, her helplessness, her inability to control or change
anything
. He folded his arms across his chest and regarded her with narrowed eyes. “You don’t watch that show and think about all of the ways you’d defile those
smoking hot
demon hunters?”
Harper took a step forward. Her breath heaved in her chest and angry tears stung at her eyes. Galen leaned in toward her, head bowed enough that they were almost nose to nose. Tension permeated the space between them, their bodies almost touching. Jesus, were they seriously fighting over a TV show? “I watch it for the world building.”
Galen snorted. “You watch it for the hot piece of ass.”
“Well, I’ve gotta do something,” Harper spat. “I’m a prisoner in my own home and with you on my tail everywhere I go, it’s not like I’ll be getting laid anytime soon!” Oh, God.
OhGodohGodohGod
. As soon as the words left Harper’s mouth she wished she could take them back.
“Don’t let me stop you!” Galen shouted, his voice like acid, burning through Harper’s rib cage straight into her chest. “You wanna go get laid? Be my guest, Harper.”
He swept his arm toward the door, palm outstretched in invitation. Harper’s heart plummeted to the soles of her feet and she bit her bottom lip to keep it from quivering.
“I’ve got a phone call to make,” she said, fighting like hell to keep it together in front of him. She brushed past him, an immovable fixture planted in the middle of her living room, and when her shoulder brushed his arm, it sent her off balance. He didn’t even try to steady her as she stumbled and kept going, down the hallway until she reached her bedroom and slammed the door behind her.
Harper took several deep breaths and swiped at the tears that ran in a rivulet down her cheeks. What a jackass! What a stubborn, opinionated, arrogant, smug pain in the ass. He’d just stood there, arms folded, face frozen in his best deputy marshal smirk. Why did she even bother with him? Especially when it was obvious he wanted nothing to do with her. If she didn’t vent to someone, Harper’s head was going to explode. She dug her phone out of her pocket and dialed Sophie.
“Hey, Harp. What’s the word?”
“Do you think I’m sexy?”
“Of course you are, what are you talking about?”
Harper sniffed. “Do you think I’m Lingerie Football League sexy?”
“Somehow, I feel like this is a loaded question. What’s going on?”
She flopped down on her bed and backed up against the headboard. “I don’t know. I walked around in my bathrobe this morning. My boobs were practically hanging out. What’s wrong with me that I’m so ignorable?”
Sophie sighed through the receiver. “I told you, you should have requested another deputy.” Sophie’s words weren’t spoken in her usual boisterous, sarcastic tone. Thank God. Because right now, Harper needed her in best friend mode.
“I know. You’re right. I just couldn’t.”
“You’re awesome, Harp. Funny, smart, gorgeous. You don’t have to be Lingerie Football League sexy to get a guy. But if you walked around in what they wear, I can guarantee you you’d turn more than a few heads.”
A half laugh, half sob escaped Harper’s mouth. “Thanks. I just hoped, you know, that he’d eventually remember. That maybe he’d want me.”
“If he doesn’t want you, then he’s a fool. Don’t sell yourself short.”
No one gave a pep talk like Sophie. “You’re right. I’m better than this.”
“Damn straight. Screw him. So he’s gorgeous. There are a lot of gorgeous guys out there and one of them is going to fall madly in love with you.”
“Not while I’m under house arrest,” Harper grumbled.
“Did you talk to my dad’s friend yet?”
“Yeah, in fact, that’s who I told Galen I was talking to right now.” She’d covered everything during their initial meeting, but Harper wanted to stall Galen so they’d head to the bakery around the time she was supposed to meet Jason Meader. Hopefully their fight hadn’t screwed up her plans. “I’m hoping this’ll all be over soon. I’m tired of waiting on the FBI. So I’m going to do a little investigating on my own.”
“Sans babysitter, I assume?” Sophie said with a hint of concern.
“That’s the plan. If I can shake him. I’m meeting Senator Ellis’s aide at the art museum today at two.” Harper was secretive, but not stupid. “I just want you to know where I’ll be in case you don’t hear from me. I don’t think the meeting will take more than an hour.”
“And this is something you don’t want Marshal Dickhead to know about, right?”
“Heh. Yeah. Unless you don’t hear from me by three thirty, don’t tell anyone where I am, okay?”
“Gotcha. But be careful, Harper. You still don’t know what kind of danger you might be in. Make sure you’re not being followed, okay?”
She was a reporter, not a character from a spy show. How would she even know if she was being followed? Still, she didn’t want Sophie to worry. “I will. I’ll check in with you around three.”
“Sounds good. And really, don’t let him get to you, Harper. You’re amazing.”