Then she dropped her briefcase and her jacket at her feet, careless where they landed, pushed up on her toes, and wrapped her arms around his neck. He hadn’t been prepared for a full-body hug, but he got right into the swing of it. Hard not to when a woman this gorgeous offered to press herself up against him.
He leaned down and wrapped his arms tightly around her. That warmth in his chest radiated outward and filled his whole body. Her scent, a barely there, wildly seductive spice, stirred the air. He closed his eyes, memorized the feel of her against him, knowing he had to release her in another second. “The bureau looks good on you, Lieutenant.”
“If I’d known I’d get a greeting like this,” she murmured near his ear, “I’d have come a long time ago.” Her hand brushed the back of his hair. “I hadn’t realized how much I’ve missed you ’til now.”
“Sir, can I—” Stephanie’s voice sounded in the hallway, jerking Owen—painfully—back to reality. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
His secretary turned toward her desk, and Owen released Seville. “It’s all right, Steph. What did you need?”
“Um, I was just going to offer you both something to drink . . . ?”
“I’d love water.” He glanced at Seville, once again struck by the beauty of her narrow face and dark hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders. Long, dark lashes. Fine, straight nose. Full, deep-rose lips in a stunning smile. He wanted to sigh. “Seville?”
“Nothing for me, thank you.”
Stephanie disappeared and Owen bent to pick up the blazer Seville had dropped. “You’ve just ruined my reputation.” He straightened and grinned at her. “You know that, right?”
“A little scandal never hurt anyone in this town.”
Owen cupped her jaw. Ran his thumb over her cheek. Her skin was soft and warm. Her smile bright. “I wish you were here for a whole different reason.”
Her brows dipped, smile dimmed. “I’m . . . sorry.”
He dropped his hand, turned toward his office, and sighed. “Come on in.”
Owen closed the door after her and watched her wander around his office, her steps slow as she scanned the diplomas and certificates on the wall. Owen sat on the corner of his desk and crossed his arms. Let himself soak her in. Let himself wish he could turn back the clock, make different decisions . . .
She paused at the watercolor his daughter, Jennifer, had given him about five years back. Owen had framed the typical grassy field of stick figures under a rainbow and smiling sunshine.
“How are Jenny and Zane?” she asked.
He was impressed she remembered their names. “They’re . . . good, I guess.”
She turned toward him with a questioning frown.
“Things are a little strained right now with the . . . uh . . . divorce.”
Her shoulders lowered and sincere sympathy tugged her eyes at the corners. “So the rumors are true. You and Libby . . . ?”
Owen nodded.
Her head tilted and concern floated in her dark eyes. “I’m sorry, Owen.”
“It’s okay. A good thing. Long time in coming. I just wish . . .”
“Easier for the kids?”
He chuckled. “I love the way you finish my thoughts.” He forced himself to create some distance. “What about you? Married? Kids?”
She laughed, the sound less pleased, and gave him a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look. “A life outside the bureau is highly discouraged.”
“So I’ve heard.”
A moment of silence stretched.
“Look,” Owen said, “I’d really like to flip the bureau the bird and talk for hours, hear all about your life over the last ten years . . . but I don’t want that time with you tainted with this crap.”
“Agreed.” She nodded, smiled. “I’m so relieved you understand.”
Okay. Back to business. They were on solid ground again. But the disappointment covering his brief burst of pleasure felt like a storm cloud.
He pushed off the desk and instead of sitting behind it, dropped into one of the two seats across from the massive piece of furniture. He patted the arm of the other chair. “Come. Sit.”
She eased to the edge of the chair and crossed her legs.
Owen chuckled. “The Seville I knew would have plopped her butt into that chair and planted her elbows on her knees.”
A sly little smile tilted her lips. “Don’t like the new Seville?”
“Plenty to like about both.”
Surprise lit her eyes and she glanced away, pulling her lower lip between her teeth.
Which of course drew his gaze to her mouth.
“Seville, let me—”
“Sofia,” she said. “Call me Sofia, Owen. We’re not serving together anymore.”
Sofia. His insides did warm, decadent things. His mind tried to read between the lines of her “We’re not serving together anymore.”
In the end, he just nodded. “Let me help you out here. I’m sure you understand that all my work for Schaeffer is classified. I couldn’t talk to you about it even if I wanted to.”
Her eyes lost their sparkle. She nodded. “I know.”
A knock on the door broke into the conversation.
“Come in,” Owen said.
Stephanie walked in, handed him the water. “Would you like me to . . . ?”
“Yes, hold my calls. Thank you.”
When the door closed behind Stephanie, Sofia said, “I’m not here to try and get answers out of you,” she said, voice low. “We have all the answers we need. I’m here because I’m worried about you. I’m sure you’ve read the papers, Owen. And you were expecting me, so you know the FBI is investigating.”
Owen nodded.
“I’ve been working on this case against Schaeffer for three years, since it was handed over to me by a retiring agent. When your name popped up on the radar last month . . .” She put a hand to her chest. “Scared the hell out of me.”
Owen sat back, frowning. Three years?
“I can’t discuss any details,” she said, “just as you can’t. What I want you to know is that it’s big, it’s close to breaking, and, as my friend, as someone I respect and admire, I don’t want you anywhere near it when it does. I know very little about this arrangement you have with Schaeffer. But I know you, Owen. I know what kind of man you are. And I believe in that man.” She reached out, curled her fingers around his hand, and squeezed. “And I don’t want to see Schaeffer ruin another good man.”
THIRTEEN
Mitch released Halina. She turned and looked at him as if she wanted to say something or ask something, but didn’t know how. Reluctantly, she disappeared into the office off the living room, keeping a notable distance from Quaid. Alyssa and Jessica were right behind.
Mitch was about to grab Alyssa’s arm to pull her aside before she went in, but they both paused beside him instead of following the others into the office.
“Tell me about Halina’s power,” Alyssa said, her don’t-even-think-about-bullshitting-me glare making her eyes spark green.
He didn’t want to bullshit anyone. He wanted this whole freaking mess over. “I can only tell you what she’s told me, which isn’t much.” He gave her the quick and dirty details of Halina’s visions.
Jessica crossed her arms and turned a serious gaze on Alyssa. “They could be triggered by dopamine.”
Mitch frowned. “Excuse me?”
Alyssa smirked at him. “Dopamine is a chemical in the brain. A feel-good chemical that is released under different circumstances, the interactions you’re describing being some of the highest. Orgasm is the highest that I know of.”
“Oh-kay.” Mitch drew out the word, a weird sensation tightening his stomach. “This is . . .”