Dangerous Law (Suit Romance Series): A Rogue Operative Romance Page 2

  Meade smirked. “Provided she can keep that poker face with bullets flying past her head.”

  Devlin shook his head. “It’s not going to come to that. This is an intelligence drop. Nothing more.”

  “So,” Meade grinned, “since the Brit chick politely declined my offer, what about you? Up for hitting D.C. nightlife with me?”

  Devlin spared a glance for the silent elevator bank before shaking his head. “Nah, bro. I think I’ll go old school tonight and stay in. Like the chief said. Rest and prepare.”

  “Yeah, right.” Teddy shifted his eyes to the elevators as well. “Just remember the code, dude.”

  Brushing him off, Devlin flicked him a half-assed salute. “Goodnight, Ted.”

  Meade snorted, turning for the stairs. “The code dude, seriously.” He left and Devlin pushed the elevator call button to head to the street.

  A smirk tugged at his lips at how cleverly Jessica turned the tables on Teddy. There was no doubt she was clever and good on her feet. The unspoken question now—was she as good on her back and any other way he could imagine. And he imagined a lot.

  ***

  Devlin’s thoughts drifted. He spent the better part of the evening vetting Jessica’s qualifications, so much so, he needed a run to clear his head, despite the plummeting overnight temp.

  Not that she needed vetting. Jessica Banning’s resume was as strong as they came. She was still a British national. Teddy was right about that, but she also spoke four languages, was top of her law class, and had more commendations for strategic analysis than anyone else in her field.

  Ted Meade never liked the idea of women on their team. Something akin to the old naval superstition about women bringing storms and bad luck. If the man could keep his focus on the game instead of on his dick, there wouldn’t be a problem. Then again, Meade was more Neanderthal than most, so his views were no surprise.

  Still, Ted was the best when it came to recon prep. Frank Lauder had his reasons for wanting Jessica along for the ride, and last he checked, Lauder was the chief, not them. The boss knew his stuff.

  That nagging thought that Lauder wasn’t telling them everything bit into his stomach again and a sudden slash of concern for Banning amplified the feeling more. The chief was adamant, though. Jessica Banning was perfect for this job. But why?

  Devlin kicked off his running shoes and walked into the bathroom, snapping on the light. He peeled his sweat shirt from his shoulders and slipped out of his joggers, kicking both into the side hamper.

  Turning on the shower, he let the water run until steam curled in the air. He stepped into the spray and let its warmth cascade over his head and shoulders before reaching for the soap.

  Perfect.

  That was the word he’d use to describe Jessica’s full mouth and the way her pretty pink tongue darted to wet her lips when she thought no one was looking.

  The same tongue that licked the cream from the side of her mouth that day on campus...

  That was nearly five months ago. He’d spotted her plenty of times since then. In the courtyard, and then in the cafeteria atrium once the weather turned too cold for her alfresco afternoons.

  He smirked to himself. He spotted her all right, usually catching her secretly watching him as well. Over the past months, they’d only spoken a few times, but body language told him more about a person than words ever would.

  Jessica was super smart, passionate, and genuinely nice. She wasn’t a classic beauty, but there was something about her that intrigued, stirring more than just a casual interest. She was lush, whereas most of the women he went for were long and lean and very sophisticated.

  Jessica was both self-conscious and confident at the same time. An odd combination, but one that kept his eyes scanning the periphery for her each day. Like waiting for the school librarian to take off her glasses and unbutton her blouse, unleashing her inner sex kitten. Jessica definitely fell into the still-waters-run-deep category. Still, sensual waters.

  Devlin would catch her outside with the sun spinning copper highlights in her long dark hair as she read in the courtyard. With her full figure, she favored fitted skirts and heels, but not in a fuck me where I stand kind of way. More in a nod to the feminine with understated elegance. The fact she wasn’t trying to be sexy, made her even more so. Very much more so.

  He soaped up and rinsed quickly, ignoring how the thought of her unassuming sex appeal thickened his cock. Banning was a colleague now. A civilian operative and that meant hands-off, no matter how much his hands itched to touch.

  The phone rang in the bedroom and he turned off the shower and grabbed a towel. Still dripping, he wrapped the terrycloth around his waist and reached for his cell phone on the sink.

  “Hello?”

  “Law, I’m glad I caught you. I want you to head to Banning’s apartment. She just called. I want you to talk to her.”

  Devlin blinked. “Why? Did she step down from the mission?”

  “That’s not an option at this point, but I’m concerned Meade may have gotten under her skin, despite her bravado, and fucked with her confidence.”

  Law pushed a hand through his wet hair. “Sir, Banning’s a professional. I’m sure she’s fine. If you’re having doubts about her constancy, maybe you should request she step down and leave this to me and Ted. We can handle the situation alone.”

  “No,” the chief replied. “We need the woman. She’s the key. Plus, there isn’t another female available who speaks fluent Russian.”

  “That’s not true. I can name four assets—”

  “Law,” he interrupted. “Do I have to spell it out for you?”

  Law raised an eyebrow. Subtext again. What the hell was in the connotation of this? If Jessica was a field agent, he wouldn’t blink an eye at what unsavory acts the job required, but Banning was back office.

  “Jessica is my choice for the job. She fits the profile of what’s needed to pull this off. She’s an analyst. A strategist. So meet her for a drink and go over strategy. We’re used to dealing in ambiguities, but she’s used to dealing in facts and the outcome probabilities based on those facts. Give her something to sink her teeth into so she stays calm and focused. Got it?”

  Devlin exhaled. “Loud and clear.”

  He hit end on his phone and tossed it onto his night table. If he had his way, he’d give her something to sink her teeth into all right. He scrubbed his face with his palm, Meade’s words in his head.

  Fuck the code.

  Something felt off in this and he’d follow his gut to make sure Jessica was safe. She needed someone to have her back, and he was just the guy. Another protective wave clenched his gut, punching straight to his cock. He’d been that guy from afar for way too long.

  Chapter Three

  Devlin’s eyes swept the place as they walked into the bar. “This building has some serious history. Did you know it was formerly a church?”

  He pointed to the small spiritual touches saved for aesthetics in the décor. “The upstairs bar used to be the choir loft. Designers worked the original steeple into one of the main attractions.”

  “Impressive. Are you a regular here?” Jessica asked, sliding into a chair at an intimate little table.

  He shrugged. “Now and then. They make the best martinis in Washington,” he quoted, tapping the shiny blurb on the back of the drink menu.

  Jessica took the laminated card and looked at the pictures of the fancy drinks. “It also says the restaurant closes at ten p.m.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m starving, so we’d better order before we’re out of luck.”

  Devlin slid the menu from her fingers, letting his linger on hers a little longer than necessary. She swallowed, knowing color stained her cheeks, so when he lifted her hand to his mouth and turned her palm upward, she silently squealed as he pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

  “I know you, Jessica,” he said, looking up from her wrist. “I know I sound like some creepy stalker, but I do…I know you.”


  The feel of his mouth on her skin, subtle and warm, and watching the sexy way he whispered against her skin made the butterflies in her stomach dive straight for her sex.

  Her pulse increased with each passing moment since he rang her doorbell earlier, and she knew she was throwing off fuck-me signals in rapid fire succession.

  Devlin Law wasn’t a pencil-pushing desk jockey like most of the men she knew. He was worldly, dangerous, and she knew he sensed the effect he had on her as well.

  He lifted his head and placed her hand on the table, his eyes locked with hers. They were dark, and her mouth went dry with the intensity of his gaze. He was as turned on as she.

  “You don’t know me, Devlin.”

  She slipped her hand from his and crossed her arms on the table, leaning in a bit so he could have a better view. In that moment, she was glad she wore a low-cut, bare-shouldered jumper, or sweater as they say in America, with a straight skirt and knee-high boots.

  He looked amazing as always. Black jeans and a black V-neck sweater highlighted his hard-muscled body, and a charcoal sport coat added the nod to his trademark style. She licked her lips. The man looked as if he walked off the cover of GQ magazine. So what was he doing here with her?

  “You only think you know me because you’ve seen me around the grounds.” She shrugged. “Like I’ve seen you around, too.”

  He nodded. “Yes, but in my work, a single glance tells me volumes about a person. Body language is truly that…a language, and just as you’re fluent in Russian, I’m fluent in what the body has to say.”

  “Really,” she leaned even closer knowing full well she played with fire. “And what does my body tell you?” she asked, ignoring the possibilities that made her panties damp.

  “You’re intrigued about me, but you’re also cautious, just as you were in the chief’s office this afternoon.” He paused. “Lauder has all the communiques for the drop. I think you should look at them before we head into Kyiv, especially since the chief thinks we’re talking strategy and analysis tonight.”

  Wait, what just happened? Who the fuck cares about communiques?

  “You’re our specialist,” Devlin continued. “If you know enough data about your opponent, you can use that information to your advantage. Fact, strategy, and probability. That’s your domain, and regardless of Meade’s bias against the fairer sex, you rule in that arena, Jessica. The chief’s right. There’s no one better for this job.”

  Still scrambled from his mixed signals, her eyes searched his, but she wasn’t convinced. “If I’m so right for this job, then why did Lauder tell you to give me the full court press about communiques? Am I suddenly your opponent? Is it your strategy to throw me off balance by dangling sex?”

  “You really are as beautiful as you are intelligent,” he said with an appreciative grin. “How do you know I didn’t volunteer to meet you just for the chance to see what else your body tells me?” Law replied.

  “So, what does my body language say? What do you recommend we do to better understand each other?”

  Devlin’s lips slid into a sideways smirk. “Do you really want to know?”

  “Sure, I’ll bite.”

  His smirk spread to a full-on grin. “I bet you do. How about we have a drink and then see?”

  “The ball’s in your court, Devlin.” She met his grin with a skeptical half-smile. “So, again. What do you recommend?”

  “How about a dirty martini? It’s salty and bites the tongue before going down easy.” He let the last part of his description trail off, but his innuendo wasn’t lost.

  Heat crawled up Jessica’s cheeks and her breasts ached. The man was as rough and dangerous in seduction as he was everywhere else.

  He slipped her hand into his again. “There’s nothing sexier than a confident woman who can still blush.” He kissed her knuckles and then whispered, “I’ll be right back,” before sliding his seat from the table. He got up and walked toward the bar.

  Her eyes watched his strong, sinuous stride and she exhaled the breath locked in her throat. “Bloody hell,” she mumbled. “If the man so much as touches me once, I’ll come right here, right now.”

  She smoothed the front of her sweater and then opened her purse and took out her compact to check her makeup, snapping it closed the minute he walked back to the table.

  “That’s quite a telling smile. Care to share?” Devlin asked, carrying two martini glasses filled with a cloudy liquid and a toothpick each with three olives.

  “No, just checking to see if we got the call,” Jessica said, stuffing her purse behind her on the chair.

  He winked. “Chances of that happening tonight are slim, so I’m betting tonight is ours to do with as we please. Strategy aimed at multiple fronts.”

  Again, with the innuendo. Months of pent-up fantasies about this guy were flying fast and furious. If there was ever a now-or-never moment, it was now.

  If she didn’t straddle this guy tonight, she’d need fresh batteries for her battery-operated boyfriend, pronto! Her head spun, inner arguments ping-ponging back and forth.

  Devlin handed her one of the stemmed glasses, then took his chair again. “To fact, strategy, and probabilities.” He held up his glass, his eyes never leaving hers.

  Jessica’s cheeks flamed as if he heard the volley of thoughts in her head, but she smiled and touched the edge of her glass with his. “Definitely.”

  “How long have you been with the agency?” she asked, taking a sip of her drink.

  “Ten years. Feels longer, though.”

  She nodded. “I bet. Sounds like your line of work would wear on anyone. Why do you do it, then?”

  He frowned. “Habit.”

  “Ouch. Sounds lonely.”

  He laughed. “Can be. That’s why it’s better not to have attachments. I’ve seen some pretty nasty things, which would make me hard to live with, but I’m lucky, I guess. I’ve learned to separate the work from the rest of my life. What about you?”

  “I’m pretty happy with what I do. I love the work and I love being in the States, but eventually I know I’ll have to go home.” She paused. “Funny, really. The word doesn’t fit anymore.”

  He cocked his head, curious. “What word?”

  “Home.” She gave him a close-lipped smile. “It used to mean London, but now?” She lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “It’s just a place I used to live.”

  “So, you like digging into facts and weighing probabilities. You sure you’re not just nosy,” he teased, folding his napkin.

  Jessica choked a little. “I am not nosy. I just like puzzles. I like stacking odds, using the laws of probability to factor win/loss. It a kind of gamble, so if I didn’t work for the CIA, I’d probably work for a casino in Vegas.”

  “Now that I’d like to see,” he winked.

  She crumpled her napkin and threw it at him. “Itty Bitty costumes are not part of the plan, Mr. Law. It’s the odds I like. Moves and counter moves, like playing chess. They fascinate me. My initial training in the U.K. included martial arts. I loved the strategy behind the discipline. Especially with Bunkai.”

  “Bunkai?” He raised an eyebrow.

  Jessica nodded. “The literal translation from Japanese means disassembly. It refers to the process of analyzing and extracting fighting techniques from the movements of a form or kata. The extracted fighting techniques are called Oyo.

  “Plus, the discipline had cool weapons to play with.” She smirked. “My favorites were chucks and throwing stars. I got pretty good at them too, once upon a time.”

  His eyes twinkled. “That’s some skill set to have on your resume. Makes me wonder what other talents you’re hiding beneath that understated exterior.”

  The man’s subtle flirting rocked her calm with every passing minute. If he wasn’t serious, she’d show him how impressive her skills could be.

  She took another sip and placed her drink on the napkin in front of her, and glanced around the bar. “It looks like they�
�re having a slow night.”

  “I picked this place because I knew we’d be able to talk, but if you’d rather do something else, we can finish our drinks and take it from there.”

  “Take it where?”

  He looked at her with eyes full of need. “Wherever you want it.”

  Calling his bluff, Jessica picked up her glass and drained it in one gulp, wincing as the gin scored her throat. “It’s now or never, love,” she said, surprised at the rough sound of her own voice.

  Devlin scraped his chair against the floor, causing other patrons to look their way.

  “Let’s go,” Jessica said softly, her fingers reaching for Devlin’s arm.

  With his arm around her waist, the two walked out of the bar and Devlin fished his keys from his pocket, unlocking his Jeep parked in front.

  Neither said a word as he drove, and before long she realized they were headed back to her apartment.

  She blew her hair from her forehead. She’d overplayed her hand trying to be something she wasn’t. Either that or he was never really interested.

  Devlin pulled into the parking lot and got out from the driver’s side, waiting for her by the front end of the car.

  “You don’t need to walk me upstairs, Devlin. I had one drink. I’m perfectly capable of getting to my flat in one piece.” Disappointed annoyance was clear in her voice.

  Law took her by the hand and tugged her along, the tap-tap of her boots on the concrete walk behind him. Without a word, he pushed the lobby doors open and then towed her toward the elevators.

  Pressing the up button, he turned as Jessica opened her mouth to argue again and pulled her against his chest. Steel-like arms locked around her waist and he pressed the hard length of his body to hers.

  His mouth hovered just above hers, their lips barely touching. “I’ve wanted to taste your mouth since the day I watched that pretty tongue of yours lick cream from your bottom lip.”

  “Devlin—”

  The elevator dinged and the doors opened. He walked her backwards into the empty car, not missing a beat, the flat of his palm against her back so she felt every hard-muscled inch of him as they moved.