Home > Don't Play With Odin (Trouble for Hire #2)(7)

Don't Play With Odin (Trouble for Hire #2)(7)
Author: Cynthia Eden

“Really attractive.” She gave him a quick, nervous smile. “You’re the first man to tell me that.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“Uh, no?” Her nose wrinkled. “I’m not.”

He backed up a step. Took her in. Every inch of her. “You’re telling me…no guy has ever said you were beautiful?”

That quick laugh came from her again. “Actually, I have been told that, but the men in question were both at bars and drinking was involved so…” Her words trailed away. “It’s not like it’s something that is just dropped into a casual conversation.”

She’d been surrounded by idiots. Obviously. “Consider this a casual conversation.”

“It…doesn’t feel casual.”

“Whatever.” He stared straight into her eyes. “You are beautiful.”

Her smile stretched.

“Probably the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.”

Now her eyes were sparkling.

“And I would love to fuck you all night long.”

Her lips parted. A faint squeak emerged from her mouth.

Sonofabitch. “I should have held that last part back. I can see that now.” He scraped a hand over his jaw. “My bad. Won’t happen again.”

Her lips were still parted. Her eyes were huge.

“Yeah, so, my conversational skills? Not always the best.” Far from it. “You don’t have to worry,” Odin tried to reassure her. “I was just—uh, stating a fact. Kind of was on a roll and I went a little too far.” He held his hands up, palms out, toward her. “You have nothing to worry about. I’m not planning to touch you, and there is zero fucking pressure.”

A blink. Then another one. Her head slid to the left. “Do you mean…there is zero pressure for me while I am around you—as in, no pressure in general—or that there is zero pressure to fuck you?”

Now he raked his hand through his hair. “Both?”

More laughter.

Well, at least she was having a good time. “I’ll keep my hands far away from you,” he growled as both of his hands dropped to his sides. “I was just putting the truth out there. You’re an attractive woman. Fucking you would be great and—dammit, I need to just stop while I am only about a mile behind.” He squared his shoulders. “I’ll bunk on your couch tonight. Tomorrow, I will get you a new alarm system installed.” Time to get this runaway train back on the tracks. Time to stop talking about how much he’d love fucking her. Even though…yes, he would love it one hell of a lot. “And, no, you are not paying me separately for the upgrade. We’ll sort out the bill later. The priority now is to get you safe. If the perp has been in here twice already, we don’t want him going for a third shot.” Because maybe on that third time when he came inside, he’d find Maisey.

Odin waited for her response.

Her warm gaze slowly drifted from the top of his head all the way down to his freaking football-field-like shoes. She shook her head. “No.”

“No?” Was she calling off their partnership? Already? Just because he’d confessed that—

“You are entirely too big to ever fit on my couch. That will not happen.”

His gaze cut to the couch. Oh, hell, no, not happening. “I’ll take the floor.”

“That will be horribly uncomfortable!”

“Trust me, I’ve slept on worse. Like a thousand times worse when I was in the field. Give me a pillow, and I’ll think I’m in paradise.”

She inched closer to him. “The field? Were you in the military like Warren—ah, War?”

Different branch from War. “I served.”

She stared at him, all expectant-like. Oh. Maybe he was supposed to share more?

Maisey motioned toward him.

“I can’t talk about most of it,” he mumbled. “Classified.”

“What were you, some super-secret black ops guy?” she teased back.

“Exactly.” He wasn’t teasing.

Based on the swift inhale she gave, he realized that she knew that fact, too. “SEAL?” she whispered.

“No.” That had been War. A fish from day one.

She tapped her chin. Assessed him again. Nodded. “The unit.”

His shoulders stiffened.

“You’re Delta, aren’t you? I mean, you were?”

He didn’t reply. Neither confirmed nor denied.

“That’s the army’s elite group. Delta and the SEALs are the most highly trained special ops groups that Uncle Sam has. First established in 1977 by Colonel Charlie Beckwith, the ops are usually secret.” She swallowed. “Supposed to be around 1200 Delta Force ops out there. The Unit. Task Force Green. They’re called both and even though the US military won’t officially admit that—”

“How do you know so much about Delta?”

“I’m good with research. Didn’t I mention that before? I’m working to get my Ph.D., and it’s not like you can get one of those without knowing how to research your ass off.” Her gaze flickered away from his. “It’s the research that got me into my current situation. I started on a missing person case. A personal case. Went down the rabbit hole. Couldn’t find my way out.” She turned away from him. Made her way to what turned out to be a closet. As he watched, she rustled around inside and pulled out a pillow and some blankets.

He didn’t move as she shuffled back to him. But her gaze dipped to the items she held, and Maisey shook her head. “I can’t let you sleep on the floor. Not after you’ve been nice enough to help me.”

Nice? She had not called him that. “First sweet, now nice.” Hell. “Lady, you could not be more wrong about me.” Did they need to revisit the whole “fucking” part of their conversation?

“Oh, that’s right.” Maisey rocked back on her heels. “You like to be salty.”

His eyes narrowed on her. “Are you teasing me?”

“Sorry. Yes. But it’s been a crazy day and I’m kind of all over the place right now.” She blew out a breath. “Why don’t you take my bed? I’ll take the couch.”

He shook his head. “My mom raised me better than that.” He tugged the pillow and blankets from her. His fingers brushed against hers.

Maisey gave a startled jerk.

Interesting. “You should check my references.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re making another mistake. Just letting me stay tonight without any worries. I could be waiting until you go to sleep and then I will—”

She retreated a step. “You’re back to trying to scare me.”

He was back to trying to get Maisey to take precautions. “Want some references? You mentioned the news station earlier. After the serial case, War and I became friends with the station manager. You can call Simone Davis, and she can vouch for me.”

Maisey pulled out her phone. Dialed the number he gave her, and after a brief talk with Simone, she nodded. Then she curled her hand around the phone as she lowered it back to her side. “I met her once. She came to an event at the college.” More hair escaped to join the curls around her face. “Simone just said you can watch her ass anytime.”

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