A STRONG HAND clasped Eloise Archer’s upper arm, yanking her toward a deserted hallway in the Palm Cove, Florida, police department. She glanced at the hand and then looked up at the serious dark blue eyes of fellow detective Dante Matthews.
“Chambers is on the warpath. Pretend we’re having a work-related conversation.”
She clutched the file folders in her arms tighter to her chest, ignoring the shimmers of attraction that came with Dante’s touch. It was bad enough she worked with the handsome man, was it too much to ask that she not...notice him so much? They had a professional relationship, end of story. But Dante, with lush dark hair, recently cut short after his last undercover operation, stood tall and lean, filling out his button-down shirt and jeans—very much a dream man.
Or hers, anyway.
She spied over her shoulder to see Lieutenant Chambers standing in the doorway of his office across the wide, busy squad room, arms crossed over his barrel chest. Dante was right on the mark with his assessment. Their superior officer did not look happy.
“What did you do now?” she asked, returning her gaze to his. She knew the answer. Wanted his version.
“Nothing serious.”
“Really? I heard your last case had a bit of a hiccup,” she returned, showing him she wasn’t clueless. In fact, she probably knew more about the results of his undercover operation than he thought she did.
His eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled at her. “Hiccup is an understatement.”
“Jumped in to make the arrest too soon?”
“Not by design. Six months of undercover work down the drain, but at least I got one arrest in the end.”
“Tell me what went wrong.”
“It’s not important.” His fingers repeatedly squeezed and released her bicep in a rhythm she doubted he was aware of. That was Dante, always moving. “What is important is that I need your help.”
One eyebrow rose. She knew what was coming.
“I’ve been relegated to desk duty until Chambers decides to give me a break. I’m behind on paperwork. Any chance I can talk you into a late-night catch-up session?”
“Reviewing reports? Why would I do that when I have my own to manage?” She held up the folders to prove her point, immediately missing the warmth of his grasp on her blouse-clad arm when he dropped his hand.
“We can go out for drinks afterward.”
“I don’t think—”
“That’s right. You don’t drink. How about grabbing some food?”
“I haven’t even agreed.”
A slow smile spread over his lips. “Come on, Ellie. Help a coworker out here.”
Eloise’s face burned. He was the only person in her life to have ever given her a nickname. “Eloise will do.”
“But you look like an Ellie.”
Did she? Her name happened to be a bit old-fashioned, probably the reason why her parents had given it to her when she was born. Literary professors, they loved classics from centuries past. But Ellie? The woman who dressed in a white blouse and navy or black skirt every day? Pulled her hair back in a no-nonsense bun to keep it out of her face? She was an Ellie?
Eloise tried to ignore his cologne, a musky aroma mixed with spice, tickling her nose.
“C’mon, Ellie. What do you say?”
“If I do help you, and I’m not saying I will, you’d owe me.”
It was only fair she ask for something in return. She might be dedicated to the job, but she wasn’t going to let him use that knowledge to push his work off on her.
His eyes lit up. “Sounds intriguing. What did you have in mind?”
Definitely not what his expression suggested, which probably included wild fun. She couldn’t imagine Dante living life any other way. And why was she reading anything into it? He was so far out of her league. Besides, her one experience with an almost work romance had crashed and burned. She didn’t care to replay that mistake ever again.
“My request would be that when we work together on a case, you listen to me.”
He tilted his head. Sized her up. “I don’t listen to you?”
“It’s not so much me as other officers you’ve worked with. You have a bit of a rep.”
Brows beetled over his eyes. “A rep?”
Like he didn’t know it. “You aren’t exactly a team player.”
“I get the job done.”
The edge in his voice told her she’d touched a nerve. “Let’s face it, you do rush into situations.”
“When it’s called for.”
Great, the chummy coworker was gone. He had his cop face on now.
A loud cough from behind drew their attention from the conversation and back to the lieutenant.
“How about we table this discussion and revisit it later?” she suggested.
He nodded, then strode away.
“Every