Aidan took a step back, his hands raised to shoulder height to show her he meant no harm. The woman was hot as a pistol—just fired and smoking. He needed to start exercising a little caution around her or they were liable to both get burned.
He had no business kissing her or touching her. No right to prove that her tough-girl guise was all an act. He had the feeling that with another touch—maybe two—he and Brianne would find out exactly how much heat was left in their attraction to one another.
But he couldn’t afford to get wrapped up in her now. Not with his case riding on her cooperation and his residual doubts about her innocence in Mel Baxter’s shady dealings still looming.
“You think you know what I’m really here for, Brianne?” Right now, he was wondering himself. Sure, he needed to put Mel Baxter away as a matter of professional pride. Mel was swindling half of Miami by now, but Aidan still held a grudge that the guy had made off with half his grandparents’ life savings ten years ago when Mel dabbled in television evangelism.
His grandmother and grandfather had managed the monetary loss, but they’d never gotten to enjoy their retirement.
Still, Aidan didn’t have any idea if he was standing in Club Paradise right now because of them. Or because of all the Dade County bigwigs who’d lost money investing in the resort.
Aidan wondered if, deep down, he’d hightailed it over here tonight to see what it would be like to kiss twenty-eight-year-old Brianne as opposed to eighteen-year-old Brianne.
No comparison.
The woman must grow more potent with each passing year.
“I know exactly what you’re here for since you made it very plain to me yesterday.” She swiveled on one high heel and continued in the direction of her office, her shoes clicking a fast beat on the colorful corridor tiles. “You want access to the club and you want to view my videotapes. That won’t be a problem assuming you’ve brought the necessary paperwork.” She paused in her sexy strut. Turned her head in a way that sent auburn hair swishing over her shoulder. “You do have a warrant, don’t you?”
Of course she wouldn’t forget about that. Aidan had known better than to think he could roll right over Brianne Wolcott.
“About the warrant—”
She folded her arms across her chocolate-colored cat suit. The bare skin on her arms looked far softer than the expression on her face. “Forget it. No warrant, no tapes.”
Shit.
Aidan had practically begged a federal judge for the warrant in addition to presenting credible evidence for why he needed access to Brianne’s security archives. According to his informant, those cameras of hers had been running for nearly two weeks. Who knew what evidence they might have captured in that time?
But the judge was a notorious hard-ass and hadn’t been impressed. Leaving Aidan with nothing to sway Brianne other than his smooth-talking charm.
And from Brianne’s tight-lipped glare, Aidan suspected no amount of cajoling would help him in his cause tonight.
“I couldn’t get the warrant. But it’s just a damn piece of paper, Brianne. I need to be here if I’m going to find Mel.” His voice was loud enough that his words bounced around the wide hallways and tile surfaces.
“To you it’s just a piece of paper, maybe. But it’s a legal necessity to me.” Brianne’s voice whispered along the corridor, but her message was every bit as clear. “Contrary to your beliefs, I don’t have anything to do with men who circumvent the rules at every turn. I’m on the straight and narrow, and you need to be, too, if you expect me to cooperate with your investigation.”
Aidan skimmed a hand over his baseball cap-covered head, willing a good idea to pop into his brain before Brianne tossed him out on his ass. He needed to be here tonight. Call it gut instinct. Intuition.
But something told him Club Paradise held the keys to Mel Baxter’s whereabouts and Aidan’s case.
No way could he allow Brianne’s anger at him from a decade ago to overshadow his number one priority.
“If I leave the club tonight, Brianne, I can guarantee you I won’t be far away. And I won’t really be gone.” He took a step closer, ready to go toe-to-toe with her on this. He lowered his voice, unrepentant about using mild intimidation tactics on a woman who could probably teach him a few things about attitude. “Wouldn’t you rather have me in your sights so you know where I am and what I’m doing as opposed to having me in the shadows, watching you when you are unaware?”
He hadn’t meant to infuse the question with sexual overtones, but as the words left his lips the provocation was suddenly just there, not even remotely subtle.
Brianne didn’t betray a thing with her cool expression, but Aidan watched her shoulders rise and fall with the same bracing breaths he was taking to keep his hands in check.
Damn, but he wanted to touch her again.
“Surely you aren’t supposed to coerce innocent people in the course of your investigations, Agent Maddock.” In the background, the blaring pop music finally ceased. “Are you certain your superiors would approve of your approach?”
Hell no. But then again, Aidan had never advertised himself as a play-by-the-rules kind of guy. Sure, his unorthodox methods had landed him in the agency’s doghouse sometimes, but they had also accounted for a stellar track record on his cases overall.
“Maybe not. But if you don’t mention the coercion, I won’t dispute your status as an innocent person.”
Before Brianne could reply, Aidan heard the double doors of the club open out on to the corridor several yards behind him. Feminine laughter and a collection of clicking high heels approached.
“I’m a hell of a lot closer to innocent than you are,” she hissed between clenched teeth, no doubt attempting to hide their conversation from her advancing business partners.
“You must have a short memory, Bri,” he whispered back, only too pleased for the excuse to lean closer to her. “The steamy propositions you tossed my way as a wild eighteen-year-old were more inventive than any I’d heard before or since.”
BRIANNE HAD SPENT the last ten years cultivating a proficient poker face to negotiate with the heavy hitters in her male-dominated profession. But she had the feeling that—despite her best effort—her expression now was nothing short of panic-stricken.
She’d suspected Aidan would remember a few of the racier proposals she’d issued in her overeager youth. But she really, really hoped he wouldn’t remember one in particular.
A fantasy of hers—ancient, of course—involving Agent Aidan Maddock in his investigator role and Brianne in her suspect role.
Specifically, a strip search.
Cloaking any sign of her fears with an effort, Brianne recovered just as Summer, Giselle and Lainie reached them.
Summer flashed a thumbs-up as she cruised by in her rainbow-colored skirts and braids. She was a walking fashion emergency today but she still managed to look gorgeous. “I tested the club microphones in your absence, Brianne, and I’m happy to report they are working just fine.”
Giselle settled for winking at Aidan as she tapped past them too, but Lainie paused and donned her cool, face-the-public smile for his benefit.
“Agent Maddock, I trust Brianne has explained to you that all the partners behind Club Paradise are happy to extend our full cooperation to your investigation of the former ownership?”