She walked toward the exit, Constantine waiting for her, leaning against the back wall, watchful. He wore black slacks, a black dress shirt and tie, his hair pulled back. He even made dress clothes look dangerous and sexy, and right now she hated him for it. To say she was intensely aware of him would be an understatement. Every inch of her body screamed with arousal when she looked at him. Anger and hurt did nothing to dispel the feeling. She was all for fighting battles, all for standing up and making a difference, but for once, she’d thought she wouldn’t be doing it alone. She’d been wrong. And she wished she’d never felt that “together” feeling—how do you miss what you don’t know?
Constantine grabbed the door for her, and for an instant their eyes met. Her stomach fluttered, and she quickly averted her gaze. By the time she slid into the back of an unmarked car with him, their knees brushing together, Nicole was ready to come unglued. She shivered despite herself—with want, with emotion.
Another agent started to slide in on the opposite side of the backseat, and Constantine held up a hand. In other words, “go away.” The agent nodded and did as ordered, shutting them into the backseat. Alone. A tinted glass window gave them privacy from the driver. She turned to him, surprised at his actions, not sure what to expect. The drive was short, a mere two blocks. But she didn’t have to guess his intentions for long.
Suddenly, she was in those big, strong arms, warmth surrounding her, his lips slanting over hers, tongue delving into her mouth with possessive heat. Passion and emotion washed over her, taking control, stealing her breath.
When the kiss ended all too soon, Nicole stared up at him, searching his dark eyes, eyes she could lose herself in for a lifetime. Eyes telling her he cared. A knock sounded on the window and she jumped. The short ride was over. No. They needed more time.
“One minute,” Constantine called, his attention never leaving Nicole. “I have to know you’re okay.”
She didn’t ask why. The kiss, the look in his eyes, the way she felt in his arms, told her everything. He cared. He hadn’t shut her out. “Then stay with me.”
His eyes softened a second before another knock sounded. They had to get out and pretend to be strangers again, at least until the trial was over.
Constantine brushed his cheek against hers and whispered her name. Nothing more. The next thing she knew, the door was opening, and with regret, she followed Constantine out of the backseat. Distant, but not nearly as distant as before.
She entered the hotel room a few minutes later filled with the warmth of knowing she and Constantine were finding their way back to each other. Their shared glances, as they decided to order a pizza instead of room service, were so hot, she didn’t know how the other agents could miss the sizzle. But she didn’t care. The trial was almost over, and these guys hated Alvarez. They wouldn’t work against her. They’d been rooting for her in court.
Waiting for the pizza, she sat down on the couch and wrote down notes for her closing statements to review with her team. The two agents on duty played poker on the desk. Constantine took a call from someone, went to his room a few minutes to talk, then to her surprise, returned, no longer avoiding her. He took over a nearby chair and studied a security report that Agent Nelson sent him each evening.
When a knock came at the door, her stomach grumbled hungrily. “Yes!” she said, setting down her papers, preparing to get a soda.
But the agent didn’t return with pizza. Instead, he returned with an awkward look on his face. He glanced at Constantine and then Nicole. “You have a visitor,” he informed her. “Mike Parker. He’s on the list. Says he’s, ah, your husband.”
“Ex-husband,” she corrected, eyeing Constantine. He was already on his feet, his jaw set tight, eyes averted from hers. This was so not good. Her heart felt as if it had slipped to her stomach.
“Let him in?” the agent queried.
Reconciled to her situation, she nodded at the agent. “Let him in.”
A few seconds later, Mike entered, dressed in designer dress slacks and a starched button-down shirt. Blond hair, blue eyes and a million-dollar, prep-school, fake smile were a few of the traits he used to manipulate people, both in and out of the courtroom.
He flashed her one of those smiles. “Good to see you, Nicole.” The words held the hint of flirtation that he couldn’t seem to speak to a woman without using.
She didn’t invite him to sit down. “What can I do for you, Mike?” she asked, her cold tone reserved for him. Coldness meant to repulse his advances. He’d never stopped looking at her as his possession and tried to assert his claim every chance he could. Keeping him at a distance was her best defense.