Kiss Kiss Bang Read online

  Twenty minutes earlier, Joey had been standing in the office upstairs going through CCTV footage of a recent string of store robberies when he’d looked up at the screen and saw her. She was a disaster. People were looking at her and shaking their heads as she tried to balance her laptop with one hand and grab something out of her purse with the other. Her clothes were too big on her, but he could still see the outline of a shapely body. Her dark hair was bundled on her head, except for a strand that had fallen over one eye, and she kept biting her lower lip. When her computer flew out of her hand and onto the floor he watched her sit down in the middle of the line. Then her shoulders began to shake.

  From the camera’s perspective it looked like she was sobbing.

  For some inexplicable reason, he felt the need to go to her aid. He stopped what he was working on and jogged downstairs, and was confronted with a woman hysterically . . . laughing. Her laughter was infectious, even though she was obviously having a complete meltdown on the floor of the store. She looked vaguely familiar but he wasn’t sure why until she said her name. Then it immediately clicked. The hot gubernatorial candidate running against the sonofabitch Harry McGregor, who was the sonofabitch responsible for Joey’s inability to go fishing.

  On the way to Iron-Clad Security he quickly pulled up his phone to check on the last-minute job he was signed up to do the following night. He chuckled to himself when he saw her name as one of the speakers.

  And now here he was, parking at ICS as Olivia followed him in her car, wishing he’d spent as much energy researching her as he had fucking with Governor McGregor over the last few months.

  Joey had a shit ton of work to do and helping this woman was not on the list. But those green eyes and thick pink lips . . . yeah, he’d help her all right. And then after that, he’d ask her out. Because he hadn’t been lying when he told her he was no Prince Charming. The lustful thoughts he’d had the instant he’d laid eyes on her were not something out of a fairy tale.

  He wished he was more tuned in to politics so he’d know more about her. The extent of his political knowledge revolved around the fact that he hadn’t been able to go fishing for the last three months because of the toxic blue-green algae that was overtaking the bay and killing off the wildlife.

  When he arrived at ICS, he parked his car in his usual spot and hopped right out, hoping to open her door for her. But she was already out of her car. “You drive too fast,” she said, closing the door of her white four-door Lexus. She eyed his flashy red Ferrari and rolled her eyes.

  “I promised you I’d have you walking outta here with a new laptop in an hour. Needed to hurry up. Clock’s ticking.”

  She smiled coyly and followed him in as she looked around. “This isn’t making me feel better about my decision to leave with a stranger. You should know that I called my friend from my car and gave her all your information. If I’m not back home soon, she’s been instructed to call the police. And I took a photo of your card and your tag and sent it to her.”

  “Good girl. You should get into security. If you’re ever looking for a job . . .”

  “Ha ha.” But she was looking at the mostly deserted parking lot, not at him. The night was warm, as were most nights in Miami. There wasn’t even the slightest breeze, and they were far from any major streets, so it was also eerily quiet. Of course she would be wary. ICS was in an enormous warehouse surrounded by more warehouses in a neighborhood that on a Friday night was mostly empty.

  He chuckled because he knew exactly what she was thinking. “It’ll get better, you’ll see. I promise we’re a reputable establishment.”

  Once he opened the door for her, he knew exactly what she’d find: Top-of-the-line everything, leather furniture in the reception area, sleek wood-and-glass desks, marble floors, and exposed beams.

  “Come on.” He led her through a hall lined with maps and world clocks, all with accurate times. They passed the “situation room” where Jax, his best friend and business partner, was currently manning an extraction of a bond runner in Nicaragua. “There’s my partner, Jax Iron. He owns half of ICS.” He continued to walk toward his office as he spoke, wondering if the fact that there were other people at the office, even at this late hour, made her feel a little more at ease.

  “And this is my office.” He held the door open for her and she stepped inside. “Have a seat. Get comfy.” He pointed to the couch at the left side of the room instead of the chairs in front of his desk. “You want something to drink or anything?”

  She didn’t sit. Instead she walked around looking at the screens on the walls. One of them was a television set, which was currently off. The other two were surveillance. One had a set of quadrants, all in black and white, of different jobs they were currently surveilling. There was someone monitoring things at all times, but he liked to keep his finger on the pulse. The other just had numbers running across the screen. “No, thank you,” she said, not seeming to be listening to him. She seemed enthralled by the monitor. “What’s this?”

  Slowly he walked to where she stood and touched the screen. She stiffened when she felt him reaching past her from behind. With his thumb and forefinger, he enlarged some of the small numbers. “I follow the stock market.” She turned her head back at him, her eyebrows furrowed. “Carefully,” he added, then she looked back at the screen.

  “So do I. I’ve never seen anything that looks like this, though.”

  “No. Probably not. It’s a program I developed to help me pull out specifically what I ask it to. It monitors certain factors on a global scale.”

  He stepped away because damn, she smelled good. He wondered what her hair would feel like. The woman had a ton of hair and he was tempted to reach for the hair tie and pull it loose. But if he wanted a chance with her, he had to make her feel comfortable, which meant fixing the computer and sending her on her way. Not touching her hair, and definitely not leaning down and smelling her neck, or nibbling at her shoulder, or . . .

  He shook his head and went to his desk before he did something stupid.

  “You could probably sell that and make millions.”

  “Probably.” He shrugged. He already had millions. She continued to look at the screen, her back to him. “So, you’re into stocks?” he asked.

  What a lame question, he thought. He wanted to stab himself with the stapler on his desk. He flipped her laptop over, not bothering to even open it. He took out the kit he kept in his drawer and quickly unscrewed the bottom and took out the motherboard.

  “No, not really. I have some stocks but I have a broker who manages it. I’m not really good at it.” He felt, rather than saw, her get close to the desk. “Uh . . . whatcha doing there?”

  “Working,” he said, disassembling the case. “Be right back.” He jogged to the warehouse at the back of the building, grabbed what he needed, and came right back. She hadn’t moved and was biting her nails. He reached forward and pulled her hand away from her mouth and shook his head soothingly. At least he hoped it was soothing. He wanted her to relax. He was sure he could fix this and retrieve whatever she needed. “So, tell me about this speech you’ve got tomorrow.”

  She cleared her throat. “It’s a big fundraiser and I’m going to talk about my budget plans.”

  “Good times, huh?”

  He heard her chuckle as he worked. “For some it will be. For others . . . not so much. I’m pretty sure I’ll be pissing off about half the room tomorrow.”

  He looked up, and this time it was him who was surprised. “Really?”

  “Yep.” She gestured toward her laptop, which was now in pieces. He put the small screwdriver he was holding in his mouth and ripped open the box he’d just grabbed from the warehouse. “I’m supposed to be sticking to the party line. But on a few issues, I’ve apparently veered and some of my supporters aren’t too happy about it.”

  “But you’re doing it anyway.” It wasn’t a question. He was surprised that a politician would go against the grain. It made him like
her even more.

  “Of course I am. I would never do something I didn’t believe in. Anyway, it’s all boring stuff, but boring or not, I really really need the data that’s in my computer in order to make sense tomorrow.”

  He tossed the box aside and continued to work, plugging the hard drive into another computer and typing, all the while wondering why he didn’t know more about her. How could he have overlooked her when he’d seen the list of invitees tomorrow. It wasn’t supposed to be his gig, otherwise he’d have been more aware of all the guests—especially this one. Currently he had three big jobs he’d been working on. One involved recovering some “questionable” photos off the internet that had been leaked from a celebrity’s personal iCloud. He needed to wipe them all off the web, which was not an easy feat. Next, he had to check the integrity of the cybersecurity of a job up in Tallahassee, and finally he had a big project that he’d been contracted to do, off the books, for the feds. Working on Olivia’s computer tonight—or the gala tomorrow—was absolutely not on his agenda. But, he had agreed to do it, so he, of course, would. “Your computer definitely crashed. Well, I mean, before you dropped it. You got the blue screen, right?”

  “Yeah. I was typing and then blue. It made a little click-clack noise first.”

  She was fucking cute. She was gnawing her nails again.

  “So you have computers just hanging around?” She gestured to the new computer he’d just taken out of the box.

  “Actually, yes. I do.”

  While the data transferred, he moved to his personal computer and ran a query for Olivia Russo, but then thought twice about it. He wanted to get to know her the old-fashioned way. Talking. He could talk. He knew words that didn’t include Java SQL code.

  “I really appreciate this. And even though I look like I’m in a rush, really, take your time.”

  “I’m done.”

  “What?” she said, her eyes opening wide and those green eyes . . . damn they were gorgeous. She was fucking gorgeous. Her skin ivory, and her lashes and hair dark, which made her eyes look like they had emeralds in them.

  “Yeah, I’m done.”

  “So then what are you doing?”

  “I was going to look you up.”

  She yelped. “What?”

  “Yeah, I need to know a little about you before I ask you out. But then I changed my mind. I’d rather learn it directly from you.”

  Her eyes were the size of saucers and now there was a tinge of pink on her cheeks. Then she sat back, crossed her arms, and tipped an eyebrow upward. “I feel as if I’m at a disadvantage, then. All my information is at the tips of your fingers and I’ll know nothing about you.”

  He sat back comfortably and opened his arms. “Ask away, darlin’.”

  “Uh . . . okay.” She bit the bottom of that delectable lip. Goodness, had he ever had such a visceral reaction to a woman before? “How old are you?”

  “Thirty-seven.”

  “Are you married?”

  “Nope. No girlfriend or significant other.”

  “Okay . . . children?”

  “None.”

  “Your favorite vegetable?”

  He chuckled. “Vegetable?”

  “You heard me,” she said, her face serious. But there was a little upward tip on her lip. “Vegetable. The little leafy green things one eats that normally grow from the earth.”

  “I know what a vegetable is.” He laughed again at the odd question. “Potato.”

  “That does not count.”

  “Why? Because it’s not leafy and green?”

  “No because I bet you like it fried and in conjunction with a Big Mac.”

  “True story. Okay, um . . . my sister makes me drink these gross kale smoothies so, I guess kale.”

  “How can your favorite vegetable be something you just called gross?”

  He shrugged.

  “Interesting. Not a big veggie eater,” she said, a finger tapping her lip. “How about fruit?”

  “Raspberries.”

  “Oh yum. That’s a good one.”

  He made a mental note that she liked raspberries.

  “So you have a sister. Any more siblings?”

  “We’re five. One girl and four boys.”

  “Wow. That’s a lot of siblings.”

  “Any more questions?”

  She tipped her chin toward the computer. “Yeah, what did you uncover about me on Google? I know you looked.”

  He stood up and walked around the table. “I didn’t.” He put two fingers out. “Scout’s honor.”

  She laughed. “You were not a Boy Scout.”

  “You know so much about me already.” He winked. “Why don’t you tell me what I would have found if I had looked? I’d rather learn it from you, anyway.”

  She bit her nail and sat down on the couch again, comfortable, her legs crossed—crisscross-applesauce style. “Not much to tell. No siblings. Parents passed away a long time ago. I have a daughter, she’s five, who I need to get home to, if you’re done.”

  She was looking up at him, so he pulled out the chair from his desk and sat down in front of her. “Tell me about your daughter.”

  She smiled wide. “Sophie? She’s . . .” She shook her head and chuckled as if she was replaying some funny story in her mind. “She’s spirited. She is always on the go, doesn’t sit still very much, loves to play outside. She has all these cute little freckles on her cheeks and these huge green eyes. Not like mine, which are dull, hers are jade-colored. Bright and . . . just perfect.”

  Dull? The green in her eyes was anything but dull. They were vibrant and spectacular, just like she was. And watching her talk about her daughter was mesmerizing.

  “She sounds wonderful.”

  “She is. She’s probably driving Winnie crazy right now.”

  “Winnie?”

  “My best friend.”

  “Well then, I better let you get back to her. Come on, I’ll walk you out,” he said, grabbing the new laptop and leading her out of the building.

  “Wait, you really fixed it? I mean, everything is in there?”

  “Yep. Told you I would.”

  “Thank you so much!” She took a step forward as if she was going to hug him or kiss him but then stopped herself, so he opened the door to his office instead.

  She stopped and grabbed his forearm. “You didn’t ask about a husband.”

  “I figured that if you had a husband, he’d have been the one at the electronics store fixing your computer. I know if I had a wife half as beautiful as you, I wouldn’t let her out of my sight. Especially not this late at night when men are just waiting to take advantage.” He smiled.

  She chuckled. “Men like you, huh? Out on the prowl at the local electronics store.”

  “Exactly.”

  She pulled on a loose thread on her shirt. “I’m a widow. My husband passed away five years ago.”

  “Damn. I’m sorry to hear that, darlin’.”

  “It’s okay. It is what it is, you know? Car accident. Sophie was a little less than a month old.”

  He wasn’t sure what to say and he didn’t want to bring up something that would upset her. She cleared her throat. “Anyway, how can I repay you?”

  “Have dinner with me tomorrow night.”

  She bit her bottom lip.

  “Come on. Just dinner. Anywhere.”

  She took a step away. “I can’t.”

  “You can’t or you won’t?”

  “Both.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and tipped an eyebrow up, but he had a teasing smile on his face. “It’s because of the vegetable thing, isn’t it?”

  This time she didn’t smile or chuckle. She full-on laughed.

  “I have a daughter.”

  “I know. Her name is Sophie, she’s five. Hates veggies. We’ve covered that, darlin’.”

  “I’m busy. I’m in the spotlight. I can’t . . .” She was just making excuses now, obviously.

  “You
can’t what? You can’t have a personal life? You can’t eat dinner?”

  He moved forward and she moved back. He made her nervous, it was obvious. And that fueled his desire further. Why was such a confident woman nervous around him? He was nothing special, not intimidating, not scary-looking. She wasn’t the kind of woman who frazzled easily. But he did that to her and it was obvious why.

  They were so close now, their chests were practically touching. The only barrier was the laptop he was holding. “Say yes, darlin’.”

  * * *

  This man, he was trouble. It was written all over him. He was too handsome, too funny, too confident, and way too hard to resist. Olivia felt a shiver down her spine when he whispered with a commanding raspy voice that oozed sex and wanton desire. “The only answer I want from you is a yes. Stop thinking so much.”

  Olivia wasn’t oblivious, he’d been flirting since rescuing her from the linoleum floor of the store, but a little friendly flirting never hurt anyone. It wasn’t as if she would do more than flirt back, but she felt out of her depth being around him. It had been a while since she’d needed to flex her flirty muscle and she wasn’t sure whether she was even doing it right.

  The problem was that in the hour or so since they’d met he’d triggered some weird trait she didn’t know she had and wasn’t sure she wanted. She was normally the ball-busting politician but he made her feel like letting him take the lead, like dropping her guard and just giving in to him. Thinking? It was overrated, right? And for some inexplicable reason, her traitorous knees wobbled and her heart sped up. When was the last time she’d felt like this with a man?

  Never.

  Absolutely never.

  Neil had been even-keeled, well-mannered, and polite. He’d never spoken to her so directly, even when they’d been married.

  Neil had known her better than anyone and he knew that she did not have one submissive bone in her.

  Yet she had to stop herself from exhaling a breathless yes in reply to his demand to see her again.

  Joey was close. So close.

  Was he going to kiss her?