Dean’s fingers traced a delicate path on her cheek, but when his thumb dropped to her bottom lip, scraping across it in a sensual caress, he obviously realized what he was doing. He pulled his hand away quickly.
He cleared his throat. “You’ll be fine.”
Swallowing hard, Bridget rubbed the back of her hand against her cheek, which felt so cold again now. Trying to keep her thoughts strictly on the crisis that had made him haul her into his car, she asked, “What exactly did Marty say?”
“He had been keeping his mouth shut about his accomplices, until he got word that they were going to try to remove some of the evidence against him. Starting with you.”
“I don’t know anything!” she insisted, as she’d tried to explain to the other FBI agents and the prosecutor. “I never saw any drugs, never handled anything suspicious.”
“It’s not what you know, it’s the context you can provide about his business. How much money should have been coming in versus how much did. Accounts you saw open and close.” He lowered his voice, as if not liking what he had to say. “You are important to the case and Marty’s former associates know it.”
Yes. That’s what the prosecutor had said.
The full implication of Dean’s words finally washed over her and she sucked in a quick, hopeful breath. “So Marty’s cooperating now?” Meaning maybe she wouldn’t have to testify!
“Not exactly.”
She sighed.
“He’s not naming names, he’s trying to score points by being cooperative only as it pertains to you. I think he’s hoping whoever is after you will get caught and turn on his bosses so Marty doesn’t have to.”
“What a guy.”
“Yeah, I’d really like to thank him one of these days.”
Dean’s tone suggested his “thank yous” would be punctuated with his fists.
She shivered a little, not only because of his audible rage, but because she still couldn’t get over the strength and power of the man. She hadn’t seen this side of him, not ever. He’d been the cute guy she worked with, then the cold investigator. She had never seen the powerful, enraged man.
“I think it’s safe for you to sit up now.”
Bridget did so, slowly rising, keeping her hands on the backs of the two front seats. She remained forward on the seat, her butt perched on the edge, her face leaning close to his shoulder. Close enough to smell him. To see the tiny hairs at the nape of his neck, with the hint of curl she’d loved in his much-less formal, used-car-salesman look. Her fingers almost throbbed with the need to slide against that thick, blond hair and mess it up, push away the conservative agent and bring back the nice guy she’d once laughed with.
Why did her body not remember that she hated him?
But it didn’t. She was obviously still very susceptible to the man, at least physically. Despite being scared out of her mind that someone could have blown her away in front of her family and friends at the bar just now; despite being furious at having been kidnapped for her own good the overwhelming feeling flooding through Bridget was awareness. Physical awareness. Her thighs were clenched, her fingers shaking. Her heart was racing out of control; her breaths were ragged and irregular.
And her most feminine parts were running a foot race trying to be the first to remind Bridget that it had been a long time since she’d had sex. As if she could forget. Between her nipples scraping hard against the soft fabric of her dress and the warmth gathering between her thighs, there was no mistaking her physical response to Special Agent Willis.
If he pulled over and invited her to climb into the front seat and get on his lap, her legs would be scrambling forward even as her brain told them to stay put. She knew it just as she knew she’d hate herself for it afterward, when she got her hopes up about Dean again, only to watch him cruise back out of her life once his job was done.
Which meant one thing. She had to get away from him at the very first possible moment.
DEAN DROVE. He wasn’t entirely conscious of where. Not where he was going or of his final destination. He just drove away from any danger to the slim young woman in the backseat. The one who’d probably been glaring fireballs at the back of his head from the minute he’d shoved her inside.
“Where are we going?” she eventually asked. “Are you taking me to your office?”
He shook his head. “Somewhere else.”
No point telling her that the local field office was the last place he could take her. Considering Dean hadn’t exactly been authorized to snatch her off the streets, he didn’t imagine his boss would be happy if they showed up there.
He might end up unemployed after this. But damned if he could bring himself to regret it. The rest of the Bureau might not care about putting a young woman’s life on the line in an effort to nab a bigger suspect, but Dean wasn’t about to go along. Definitely not when the woman in question had not given her permission to be used as bait.
And especially not when the woman was Bridget Donahue.
“Where else is there?” she insisted, leaning closer between the front seats. So close her long, smooth hair brushed his arm. He wore not only a jacket but also a long-sleeved shirt, yet something in him swore he’d felt the contact. Maybe because he’d imagined it. Imagined sinking his hands into her hair, wrapping it around his fingers, holding her still as he explored the depths of her mouth…then every inch of the rest of her.
“Hello? Are you taking me home now?”
“Absolutely not. We’re going someplace safe and you’re staying there until we eliminate this threat.” And he suddenly thought of the perfect place. It might be difficult to reach in this weather, but the SUV had four-wheel drive. They should be able to make it. Or at least get close enough to hike in.
Not with her in that dress, an internal voice reminded him. He ignored it. He’d deal with that issue when he had to.
“Is it a safe house?”
“No.”
She met his stare in the rearview mirror, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Please don’t tell me you’re taking me back to your place for my own good. Because I might have been Miss Naive a few months ago when I fell for your routine, but I’m not that girl anymore. And if you kidnapped me for any personal reasons, I’ll have you thrown into jail.”
Dean couldn’t help barking a laugh at her fierce expression and threatening tone. The woman was not the quiet bookkeeper he’d first met last summer, which wasn’t a bad thing. In fact, the fiery, feisty Bridget was the one he’d most missed after he’d had to cut ties with her because of the case.
“We’re going to a place right outside the city.” He watched her expression as she absorbed that news, not missing the way her lips parted on a quick, inhaled breath, or the slight widening of her glittering eyes.
He’d bet money it wasn’t fear he saw in her face. It was excitement. Because though Bridget might want to deny it, they’d had intense chemistry. That had been proven one afternoon in her office. Dean had found one of the other salesman making an aggressive move on her and had tossed the other guy out on his ass. Pure anger and the sexual awareness that had been sizzling between them for weeks had come to a head and he’d ended up with his tongue down her throat and her legs wrapped around his hips. He could have had her right there, on top of her desk, and he’d