“The desk sergeant said you were one of the youngest detectives on the force.”
“I am. Were you checking up on me? Doubting my abilities?”
“I didn’t have to say a word. I think he has a fatherly fondness for you. The guy got his back up.”
Sienna shrugged. “What did you do to get his back up?”
“It might have been the simple question I asked.”
“What was the question?”
“I asked him if you were attached.”
“You did?” She stopped a little too hard at the stop sign. Another traffic rule she took completely at face value. No rolling stops for this woman.
“What did he say?” She turned large green eyes on him.
“He said no and that I shouldn’t get any bright ideas in that area if my intentions weren’t honorable.”
“What did you say?”
“I asked him if he was your father.”
“So, are your intentions honorable?”
His eyes traveled from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. “No.”
“Thanks for warning me.”
“You’re pretty cool under fire.”
“I have the feeling you are, too.”
“Steady as a rock.”
“So nothing can shake you?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On the circumstances.” She had squared him up pretty good. SEAL training was the toughest around, and it had prepared him well for combat. He’d always maintained his cool under fire. A SEAL once told him that some guys get that way. They see everything clearly and know exactly what to do. The guy had called him a born leader.
It didn’t take long after she parked her car in the underground garage to get up the elevator to her apartment. She poured him a glass of iced tea and disappeared into her room. A.J. looked out her window, admiring her sweet view of the bay.
He loved the water and, in fact, his nickname during Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training or BUD/S had been Shamu. The water was like another world to him, quiet, shielding, and familiar. During his training, he had won the record for holding his breath the longest underwater.
But when he heard Sienna come out of her bedroom and he turned, the fact that he could hold his breath the longest kept him from passing out. She was bending over slightly to slip on a strappy gold sandal. His eyes went up her exquisite body, all five feet, five inches of her. The tight, sleeveless, jade green micro-dress fit her like a second skin, the hem of the dress hitting her at the top of her well-toned, mouthwatering thighs. He wondered about what he couldn’t see. What kind of streamlined underwear could be so seamless? His mouth went dry at the thought. Her hair was on top of her head where she’d pinned it up, but it was a gorgeous haphazard free fall and tumbled in untidy tendrils to her nape, her throat, and around her delicate face.
She looked voluptuous and wild and sexual, and she looked—ah, man, she looked…
Off-limits, he thought, finally taking a deep breath to feed his oxygen-starved brain. Yet it wasn’t his brain that was paying attention to Sienna Parker.
She looked up then, after checking the tiny buckle on the sandal, her face perplexed. “What’s wrong?”
“Remember when I said that I don’t shake easily?”
Her face scrunched up and then cleared. “Right, depends on the circumstances.”