Jacquie D’Alessandro - Just Trust Me…

“Do I smell briny?”

“Not that I can tell. But I figured a fisherman would need to differentiate between cod and salmon and mahi mahi. That sort of thing.”

“I wouldn’t know a mahi mahi if it jumped up and bit my butt.”

“I didn’t know mahi mahi had teeth.”

He laughed. “They probably don’t. I wouldn’t know. Give up?”

“Not yet.” She appeared to give him the once-over. “Your obvious fondness for Hawaiian shirts rules out any career in the fashion industry-”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I bought this from a guy selling clothes out of the back of a truck on Madison Avenue.”

“I like your shirt just fine. I’m just saying the folks over at Ralph Lauren and Calvin Klein probably wouldn’t. Back to my guessing-you appear to be in good shape…carpenter?”

“Nope.”

“Forest ranger?”

“’Fraid not.”

“Banker? Lawyer? Realtor? Mechanic?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at her rapid-fire guesses. “No to all.”

“Fine. I officially give up.”

“Hmmm. I wouldn’t have pegged you for a quitter.”

She lifted her chin. “There’s a difference between quitting and strategically knowing when to throw in the towel.”

“I see. It’s a matter of timing.”

“Exactly.”

“In that case, I’ll let you off the hook. I’m a scientist. I’m accustomed in my work to using my sense of smell to distinguish between chemicals and compounds, none of which are normally coconut and lime.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a scientist before.”

“That’s because they don’t let us out of the laboratory very often.”

“What precisely does a scientist do?”

“Research mostly. I also do some teaching.”

“I have to admit I’d never have guessed. I thought scientists had wild electrocuted-looking hair and crazed gleams in their eyes.”

“That’s only the mad scientists. They get all the good movie roles.” He heaved an exaggerated sigh. “The relatively sane ones, like me, are always passed over by those Hollywood types.”

“Hmmm. But for all I know, your sunglasses might be hiding a crazed gleam in your eyes.”

Brett suspected his eyes were indeed gleaming. Not with madness, but with unmistakable heated stirrings of lust. He wasn’t sure if it was the heady sense of having escaped New York, or the magic that seemed to shimmer in the air in this ancient city, or the delicious scent and smile and laughter of the woman sitting across from him, or the fire her transparent skirt had lit, or hell, even the high altitude, but for the first time in a long while he felt…free. Relaxed. And very attracted to a woman whose face remained half-hidden.

“There’s only way to find out if my shades are hiding anything,” he said softly. He rested his forearms on the table and leaned forward in invitation. “Take them off. See for yourself.”

KAYLA HESITATED, relegated, for reasons she couldn’t fully explain, to mute stillness by his husky-voiced invitation. Other than to know it surprised her. As had he since he’d first smiled at her.

He wasn’t at all what she’d expected, either in looks or demeanor. Based on his two interviews she’d read-before he’d ceased granting them-industry scuttlebutt, her own staff’s difficulties in making any inroads with the man, and the way he’d rudely ditched his party, she’d predicted a pompous, stuffed-shirt jerk. Instead he was warm and funny and friendly.

And based on the several grainy news photos she’d seen, she’d expected a scrawny, nerdy geek. But clearly the man was just unphotogenic, because while he wasn’t in the same league as the male models with whom her job put her in contact, he by no means appeared unattractive.

No, in fact, he had a really nice smile-sort of lopsided and quirky. And cute. And a rugged, square jaw. And what appeared to be a downright impressive physique hiding under his Hawaiian shirt and T-shirt. Certainly his arms looked nice, as did the breadth of his shoulders. And his thick, dark, rumpled hair begged her fingers to test its wavy texture. In fact, when she’d first seen him, she’d almost believed he was the wrong man. It wasn’t until he’d actually introduced himself that she’d been certain he was the person she sought.

And now, faced with the opportunity to remove his sunglasses and unmask him, she felt an odd combination of curiosity and inexplicable nervousness. It hadn’t once occurred to her that this man she’d been sent to spy on, to whom she’d relished giving a bit of ditch-the-party-and-leave-me-holding-the-bag payback might be in any way likable or attractive.

Pulling in a bracing breath she was frankly surprised she needed, she reached out, lightly grasped the black frames, then slowly lowered her hands. And stared. Into the most compelling, intense brown eyes she’d ever seen.

Those eyes, gilded with intriguing flecks of gold, seemed to laser through the protection of her glasses. His gaze was mesmerizing and sucked her in like a pool of quicksand. Whew. This extremely attractive man was definitely not what she’d expected to see. And in spite of the fact that she wasn’t fond of surprises, she couldn’t deny that she very much liked what she saw.

Intelligence and humor gleamed in those golden-brown depths. Along with interest. Very definite interest. Of the very heated variety. Awareness tingled under her skin, and she fought the sudden surge to fan herself. For several long seconds she simply stared at him, unable to look away, her gaze roaming his features, noting the fine grain of his skin. The shaded beginnings of a five o’clock shadow. His well defined lips that somehow looked both firm and soft. And very, very kissable. Was it possible that a reclusive science geek who undoubtedly spent all his time in a lab peering through microscopes and examining test tubes, or whatever scientists did, could be as good a kisser as his gorgeous mouth would suggest?

“Well?” he asked softly.

That single word yanked her from her thoughts. Her very inappropriate thoughts. She needed to recall that she didn’t like this man. And that she was on a fact-finding mission-and not of the how-does-he-kiss variety.

Unfortunately, as she’d lost the entire thread of the conversation, she was forced to ask, “Well what?”

“Any sign of a crazed gleam?”

“A gleam…maybe. Crazed? I don’t think so.”

“The gleam’s all your fault, you know.” A slow smile curved up one corner of his gorgeous mouth, denting a dimple that could only be described as sexy in his cheek. “I’m positive it wasn’t there until you showed up.”

Yikes. This man and his damn dimple and damn brown eyes were potent. Like a shot of tequila on an empty stomach. Forcing a light tone, she matched his earlier words. “I bet you say that to all the out-of-balance New Yorkers you meet.”

His smile faded and his gaze flicked down to her lips. “Actually, right now I can’t imagine saying it to anyone else but you.”

She’d been around the block enough times to know when she was being fed a line, and her first instinct was to believe he was full of crap. But something in his voice, in the way he was looking at her, as if he, too, was surprised by what he saw and liked it very much, shoved her cynical thoughts aside. Something was clicking here between them, something electric and exciting…wasn’t it? It sure felt like it to her-in a way that had nothing to do with formulas or La Fleur or her spying mission. Obviously the high altitude was affecting her brain, but hey, if he was attracted to her, so much the better. It certainly would make getting him to open up to her that much easier.

Yet even as the thought occurred to her, her conscience tossed a cold bucket of guilt on her. While she’d been okay with the idea of covertly seeking information from the unlikable Dr. Thornton, trying to pry information from the very personable Brett suddenly felt like…lying. And she didn’t care for it one bit.