“Hello, Chelsea,” he greeted her, his voice low. “Can I come in for a minute?”
Dressed in dark slacks and a long-sleeved white shirt, the sleeves of which were rolled back, he looked far too handsome in a rough, rugged sort of way. Those Breed genetics he possessed might be recessed, but the unique handsomeness Breed males possessed was in full force.
From his amber-flecked green eyes, to the longish, once black, now dark blond hair streaked with darker brown hues, to the tall, muscular form of his body, he was the very essence of a woman’s most sexual dream. And like all the other women who lusted after his arrogant ass, she couldn’t help but want to pull him straight into her bed and just have her way with him.
“Why?” The question popped out of her mouth before she could stop it.
Those devilish lips quirked into a hint of an amused grin as he scratched at the closely cropped beard he was now sporting. When had he decided to wear a beard?
“Because I wanted to see how you were doing?” he quipped, the dark timbre of his voice sending a thrill of sensation racing down her spine. “See if you were still mad at me.”
Mad at him? She was still furious with him, but she stepped back and waved him in, despite the feeling that she should have just closed the door in his face.
She knew Cullen. He didn’t just make friendly visits to anyone’s house. He always had a reason, an agenda.
“I still think you’re an ass,” she informed him, turning for the kitchen. “But I have time for a cup of coffee before I have to leave.”
Work, she reminded herself. She had a job to do, and doing it didn’t include entertaining her former boss or lusting over him for the evening.
“You’re going to Graeme’s dressed in jeans?” There was a hint of surprise in his voice.
“I’m not going to Graeme’s.” She kept her back to him as she spoke and busied herself with the coffeemaker.
Looking at him just made her feel way too conflicted.
Not to mention too damned aroused. Thank God he didn’t have the normal senses a Breed possessed. Like that pesky sense of smell that alerted them whenever a woman was aroused by them. That was just wrong as far as she was concerned. On so many levels.
“So what’s more important tonight than making certain my brother doesn’t involve himself in your life?” he asked, the mockery not in the least subtle. “Missing one of his dinner parties is guaranteed to make him suspicious, you know?”
Finishing the coffee, she picked up both cups, turned and moved to the table. Her gaze lifted to his as he stood in the doorway, his shoulder resting against the frame as he crossed his arms over his chest. Placing his cup on the table, Chelsea stepped back, leaned against the counter and sipped at the hot brew, all the while holding his gaze.
Graeme had no reason to involve himself in her life. Missing a dinner party wasn’t exactly a crime.
“I’m certain Graeme and I both will survive me missing one of my cousin’s little get-togethers,” she assured him.
Cullen’s lips quirked knowingly. It wasn’t a smile, it wasn’t a grimace. It was a look of certainty and pure confidence.
“You don’t know my brother very well, Chelsea.” The chastisement in his voice was more than a little mocking. “He seems to be fond of you, and after catching wind of that Coyote attack the other night, he’s concerned.” His voice lowered, hardened as his expression turned downright dangerous. “You could say I’m a bit concerned myself.”
Chelsea placed her cup of coffee on the counter more as an excuse to break his gaze and gather her thoughts than to keep from throwing the cup at him.
“Concerned, are you?” she scoffed, turning back to him. “I haven’t seen or heard from you in weeks, and now you’re supposedly so concerned for me?” Her brows lifted in disbelief at the very thought of it. “Sorry, Cullen, not buying it, and I don’t have time to stand here discussing it with you.”
Maybe if he’d shown a little interest in the past weeks, then he might have been able to fool her. If he had been the one to tell her Louisa hadn’t survived, if he’d at least been there to share her sorrow.
His eyes narrowed on her, dark green glittering between heavy gold-tipped dark brown lashes. She didn’t like that look either. It was one she’d only seen rarely, and then only during interrogations of some low-life suspect as she watched from behind a two-way mirror. Until now, he had never turned that look on her, though.
It was a bit unsettling.
“What are you up to, Chelsea?” He questioned her softly, the tension in the room rising by the second. “And who are you working for? I’d have thought that night in the desert would have caused you to at least show some caution for a little while.”
Chelsea lifted her brow, disgust surging inside her as anger threatened to get the better of her.
“You need a ladder to climb out of my business?” She tried for sarcasm, but even she heard the hurt in her voice. “What I’m doing and whoever I may be doing it for doesn’t concern you in the least. I resigned from the Agency. Remember?”
There was a predatory grace in the way he straightened from the door frame. His head lifted, his expression tightening until for a moment, it would have been easy to believe that those Breed genetics he possessed were anything but recessed.
“And you think resigning from the Agency meant I’d stand aside and let you get yourself killed?” His lips peeled back in a snarl, prominent canines flashing dangerously. “Chelsea, sweetheart, you should know better after that night in the desert.”