She still hadn’t figured out if he had officially joined the gang or if he was undercover. But she couldn’t take a chance that his anger might turn to violence. Her father was an angry man, but he had had nothing on Levi. And after a string of failed relationships she no longer trusted men. Hell, she didn’t even trust her own judgment.
Folding her arms with feigned nonchalance, she leaned against her faithful Jetta and gave him a weak smile. “Sure. It’s a…new hobby.”
James snorted a laugh. “You can’t sit still long enough to drink a coffee. Do you really think I would believe you’re into airplane watching? Dressed like that?”
She widened her eyes and shrugged. “I was worried I might bump into someone I know and they might laugh at my new hobby. The thrash crowd isn’t very forgiving of mundane pursuits.”
His lips curled into a devastating smile. “I can always tell when you’re lying. Your eyes widen and your lips twitch. Dead giveaway, at least to me.”
Lana narrowed her eyes at the insult. “And you’re in my way. The 4:53 p.m. Boeing 757 should be flying overhead any minute. It’s a breathtaking sight.”
Surveillance Rule #17: Always be prepared with a plausible cover story.
Eyebrows raised, grin splitting his face, James looked into the sky. “Maybe I’ll stay and watch. I didn’t think there were many 757s left in the air. They were discontinued in 2004.”
“Seriously?” She realized her mistake at once and dropped her voice. “I mean, seriously, it is a real 747. There are still a few that are operational.”
“I thought you said it was a 757.”
Lana swallowed hard and stared at her flip-flops. Damn. Usually she lied with aplomb while undercover, but he was unnerving her with his handsome face, kick-ass leathers and cocky attitude.
“Slip of the tongue. I get so excited when the planes fly overhead, sometimes I can’t think.”
“I remember other things that excited you,” he murmured.
Phwoar. Long-buried feelings stirred inside her. God, she’d missed their banter. And his sexy talk. And his body.
Bad ears. Don’t listen.
She tugged her wig over the betraying auditory appendages lest he continue to beguile her with his forked tongue and panty-dampening words. But, oh, the things his tongue could do…
He checked his watch and leaned in close. Lana swallowed hard and tried to arch away, but with the vehicle behind her, she had nowhere to go.
“It’s 4:58 p.m.,” he said. “Looks like you missed your 757. Sorry I distracted you. You should get along home.”
“There are other planes to see.”
He tugged the wig off her head and ran his fingers through the damp tendrils of her hair. Delicious cool air rushed over her scalp. Lana’s eyes slitted closed. She had always loved the feel of his hands in her hair.
“Not here,” he said softly. “No case is worth this risk, and I know you’re on a case. You are leaving. Now.”
Lana gritted her teeth against the onslaught of endorphins rushing through her veins. Of course he had seen through her ruse. Was he worried she would blow his cover—if he was undercover? As before, their sexual chemistry got in the way of everything else. Like communication. But right now she didn’t want communication. She wanted him gone so she could get on with her surveillance.
“Do you see my feet moving? No. That’s because I’m not leaving. Now skedaddle. Go back to your new biker life of drugs and murder and mayhem, and leave me in peace.”
He cupped her jaw with his warm, broad hand and tilted her head back. The look he gave her—sensual, carnal, predatory—curled her toes.
“Not going anywhere, babe.”
Heat flooded her veins and a strangled sound escaped her throat. She took a deep breath to regain her composure. “It’s easy. Just turn around and walk away. You did it before.”
James tightened his grip on her jaw and held her gaze. Strong emotions flickered through his eyes, deepening the steel blue almost to black. “I did it for you.”
Lana’s vision sheeted red. Heartless fucking bastard. She shoved against his chest as hard as she could, breaking his hold and forcing him back. “Oh. My. God. Could you be any more condescending? Are you seriously telling me you broke my heart for my own good?” Her voice rose, almost to a shriek. “Did it occur to you I might’ve had something to say about that?” She clenched her fists to keep from slapping him. Again.
He looked at her aghast. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I liked it better when I didn’t know,” she snapped. “I imagined all sorts of scenarios: a serious illness in the family, an abduction by aliens, a mysterious overseas assignment to rescue hostages, or maybe you were imprisonment by rebels in a war-torn country. Something that would make me think you weren’t the heartless bastard you really are.”