Road To Temptation. Terra Little

her to at least quiet down. “Eli,” she said into the phone. “Hi, thanks for getting back to me so quickly. Please tell me you found something helpful.”

      Nearby, Olivia murmured something about seeing her downstairs. After nodding, she listened to what Eli had to say.

      As soon as she’d been able to pry herself away from the dynamic duo downstairs, she had excused herself to her room to change clothes and pack an overnight bag. But first, she’d called Eli and shared what little case information there was with him, hoping that he’d be able to pin down Meagan’s exact whereabouts quickly enough to eliminate the need for a partnership and, even worse, a road trip. But, as she listened to Eli’s report, she realized that there was no way out, at least not yet, anyway. He agreed to stay on top of things and let her know if something interesting popped up but, in the meantime, it looked like she was stuck playing Robin to Broderick Cannon’s Batman.

      Dammit.

      Resigned to her temporary fate, Elise emerged from her bedroom ten minutes later, ready to get the show on the road. She found Olivia and Broderick in the study, sitting close together, with their heads bent even closer and their voices hushed. “I’m ready if you are,” she announced, interrupting their nearly nose-to-nose exchange. Their heads flew up guiltily, as if they’d been caught sharing government secrets. Trying not to scowl, Elise slung her tote strap over her shoulder and looked from one face to the other. She wasn’t jealous. Really, she wasn’t. But, damn, did Olivia ever turn it off? “Shall we go?” she asked, glancing at her watch meaningfully and then pinning Broderick with another look. He rose from the couch slowly, smirking. Was he really smirking?

      “Of course. After you.”

      * * *

      “Truth or dare?”

      She turned away from the passenger-side window and looked at him like she was surprised to see him sitting in the driver’s seat. “What?”

      “I said, truth or dare?”

      It was almost ten o’clock at night, and they’d been driving in complete silence for an hour. A few miles back, at around the halfway point, the Hummer’s GPS navigation system had routed them away from the interstate and onto an isolated stretch of paved service road that weaved through several miles of pitch-black farmland. It would eventually lead to a rural road in Jefferson County, and, shortly afterward, they would enter Jefferson City limits via a small residential community on the south end of town. But not for at least another three thousand six hundred seconds, which, in Broderick’s estimation, was just about enough time for the spicy, exotic fragrance clinging to Elise’s skin to finish driving him crazy.

      Every time he inhaled, he was transported back in time to a mission in Bangkok, to a smoky massage den in the red-light district, and a 3:00 a.m. curfew that he’d taken his punishment for missing with a sleepy, satisfied smile. Every exhale was an irritating little reminder that it had been five months since he’d known anything close to that kind of satisfaction.

      Something had to be done and, unfortunately, Truth or Dare? was the first PG-rated solution that came to mind. It wasn’t the best idea that he’d ever come up with but a distraction was in order and at least this one would end the ridiculous silence between them. Or not, he thought as the light cast by the dashboard console illuminated the doubtful smirk on her face.

      “I’m not playing a silly game with you, Mr. Cannon.”

      He bit down on a smirk of his own and cocked a brow. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid.”

      “No, I’m not afraid and I’m not ten, either, so your peer-pressure tactics won’t work on me.”

      He glanced over at her and then took his eyes to the rearview mirror. “You sure about that?”

      “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

      “Then prove it,” he challenged, catching her eyes for one tense second and then winking at her. “Play with me.”

      “No.” Crossing her arms underneath her breasts, she shifted in her seat until her both her knees and her nose were pointed toward the passenger-side window. She looked like a proper nineteenth-century schoolmarm, except that he was 99 percent sure that she wasn’t wearing any panties underneath her skintight jeans, and, if he stood over her at just the right angle, he could see down the front of her sweater. Her breasts were freckled, too, and bubbling out of the top of her bra in a way that was anything but proper.