Read Countdown To A Kiss (A New Year's Eve Anthology) Page 33

  Chapter 3

  Grace gripped her hands tighter. Exactly why had she thought this conversation would be a good idea? She should have texted Tess or Annabelle first. They would have told her to keep her mouth shut, that she was making way too big a deal about a little tongue flick.

  “Sort of?” Ramos opened his eyes after briefly closing them and mumbling something in Spanish. He looked almost angry as he stared at Grace.

  “Well, not sort of. Definitely. I definitely licked you.” Who knew semantics would be so important to him.

  “Okay.” He nodded as if that was all he needed to hear. He turned away from her and looked toward the booth where his date was talking with Baxter.

  “You don’t want to know why?” she asked after several moments.

  He turned back to her, his expression grim. “No. I don’t want to know why.”

  “Oh.” She bit her lip, not sure where to go with that. “Should I apologize?”

  “No, just stop talking about it.” His voice was tight, not at all Ramos-like. “What did you want to consult about? I’m hungry and want to order some dinner.”

  The idiot. Did he really think she’d wanted a consult? She’d wanted to talk about the now off-limits lick and, hopefully, their mutual attraction which––it was now painfully obvious––was not mutual.

  Right. She needed to salvage this situation and keep them on a friendly footing. “I just said that about the consult so I could talk to you privately,” she said with an easy smile.

  Ramos stiffened and his eyes darkened.

  “Uh, but I do need some career advice,” she added quickly.

  He looked at her in silence for a full ten seconds. “Career advice.” He seemed to say the words very carefully. “You’re asking me for career advice.”

  “Well, yes. Yes, I am. You’ve been around here for a couple of years and I’m still relatively new on the squad. Here’s the thing. Michael has asked me to be part of his new task force. What do you think? Is it a good idea?” She’d had no intention of discussing Michael’s offer yet, not until she’d had time to consider it first. But it was all she could think of, spur of the moment, and it was a heck of lot better than a pathetic “I wanted to tell you I like you. Do you like me?”

  Especially since he was telegraphing the answer to that question, loud and clear.

  “It’s the opportunity of a lifetime.” His voice was flat, matter-of-fact.

  “Of course.” She widened her smile. “You certainly helped me put the offer in perspective. I’m glad we had this little talk.” She slapped the table with her hand, prepared to stand and get the hell out of Dodge.

  His hand snapped out and circled her wrist. “Devine.”

  Her heart stuttered in her chest and she slowly sank back into her chair. She cleared her tight throat. “Yes?” Shadows seemed to pool in his dark eyes.

  “You and I. We wouldn’t work. I don’t do long-term romantic relationships.”

  “You don’t do long-term relationships? Ever?” Grace found it easier to focus on the last part of his statement.

  “Ever.”

  His assurance rankled. “So how does that work? What’s the tipping point? How many times can you date a person before they move from short-term to long-term?”

  He shrugged. “There’s no exact number.”

  “Ballpark figure, then.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I don’t date a woman longer than a month.”

  Grace nodded over toward the booth. “What week is she on?”

  “Three.” The word came out sharp and short.

  “That has got to be the most asinine rule I’ve ever heard. What if you really like a woman and think she’s the greatest thing since…” Grace waved her free hand, “hot fudge sundaes? You would stop seeing her after four weeks simply so the relationship doesn’t cross your line into long term? How does that make any sense?”

  “I’ve never met a woman equal to a hot fudge sundae, so I can’t say.” The shadows in his eyes gave way to amusement.

  “And the women are all okay with this?”

  He shrugged. “They all think they’ll be the dessert that destroys my diet.”

  She regarded him with a bit of awe. “I see the brilliance of this. You only date successful, driven women. Setting a time limit on the relationship taps into their competitive spirit. You’re the ultimate challenge. Women probably line up for a chance to make it to week number five.”

  He gave her an odd look. “Not one woman has considered this brilliant, Devine. Most often I’m called a jerk.“

  “Well, that goes without saying. You’re emotionally stunted and in serious need of psychological help.”

  “Tell me something new.” His tone was dry. “And just so you know…I have another rule.”

  “I feel like I’m in school again.” And she hadn’t particularly liked most of those rules, either.

  “I don’t date women from the field office. Not special agents, not support staff, no one.”

  “Why is that?”

  His fingers, still circled around her wrist, tightened. He could probably feel the rapid beat of her pulse. “Doesn’t matter. I just don’t.”

  She thought it mattered very much, but didn’t pursue his reasons.

  “One more thing.”

  She gave an exaggerated sigh and gazed around the bar as if none of this really concerned her and she was getting a bit bored. “Yes?”

  He tugged hard on her wrist. Startled, she looked at his face. Emotions she couldn’t begin to name sharpened his features. His lips twisted and his dimples briefly flashed, but not in a smile. He slowly lifted her wrist and pulled her arm toward him. Grace watched, not resisting, as if her hand had a will of its own.

  His eyes didn’t leave hers until her hand was cradled, palm up, in his larger one. One finger slid along the pad of her thumb tracing the lines of her palm, easing open her fingers. Then he lowered his head, black silky hair falling across his forehead, and his tongue swiped across the pulse in her wrist. Not a quick swipe, but a slow, flat-tongued lick.

  She couldn’t speak. She wasn’t sure she could move. He set her hand down gently on the table.

  “We’re even now.” He placed both his hands against the table and pushed out of his chair. He walked to the booth, to his beautiful date, without once looking back.