Chapter 4

Mac was still giddy as she stepped out of the elevator and weaved her way through the newsroom to her desk. Today had gone better than she could have imagined. Not only had she learned enough to know there was definitely something shady going on at the SWAT compound, but she was also pretty sure Gage Dixon was attracted to her. Even though he was supposed to be the focus of her investigation, that thrilled the hell out of her. If she was lucky, she might be able to get her story and still stay on Gage’s good side. Right. Like Gage was going to forget she’d exposed whoever was using drugs and gotten them suspended…or worse. But a girl could dream. At least for tonight.

She sat down at her desk and grabbed a half-eaten bag of pita chips she’d stashed in her top drawer the previous day. She hadn’t realized she was starving until she’d left the compound. There was absolutely no way she could make it to dinner without eating. She hadn’t gotten more than a handful of the salty, but supposedly healthy, chips in her mouth when Zak sauntered over.

“Hey, you’re back.” He perched on one corner of her desk. “Ted wants to talk to you.”

Mac nodded and shoved another handful of chips into her mouth.

“So, how’d things go with SWAT?” Zak asked, completely disregarding the fact she was busy with a mouthful of food.

She got enough down to answer. “They went great. I mean, I haven’t learned anything definitive yet, but I discovered enough to certainly pique my curiosity, for sure.”

Zak’s mouth quirked. “You are talking about the story, right?”

“Very funny. Yes, I was talking about the story. What the heck did you think I meant?”

He reached into the bag to steal some of her chips. “Well, I know you have a thing for muscular men in uniform.”

Mac gave him an indignant look. “I do not!”

“Right.” He snorted. “So, what’d you learn?”

Mac told him about the bloody bandages and her suspicions about the night vision goggles. She left out the part about having a date with the SWAT commander. Zak was her best friend in the world and the older brother she’d never had, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Okay,” he said as he grabbed some more chips. “What aren’t you telling me?”

She stifled the urge to groan. He should have been a journalist instead of a photographer with that nose of his. He could smell a lie a mile away. But if she told him about having dinner with Gage, he’d only disapprove. Not of flirting with Gage to get a story. She’d done that before. He wouldn’t even have an issue with her being attracted to Gage. That had happened a time or two as well. The thing that’d bother Zak was this crazy idea of hers that she could have her cake and eat it, too.

“You can’t work both sides of the fence,” he had said more than once. “Figure out what you want and go after it, but don’t be greedy. If you do, you’ll end up getting hurt. Or hurting someone you end up caring about.”

Even though she thought he was being melodramatic, she’d always backed off. Not from going after a story she wanted, but from getting involved with whomever she was investigating. The story was always more important. But this time was different. She couldn’t forget about that crazy reaction she’d had when her arm had brushed Gage’s.

She popped another chip in her mouth. “Nothing. That’s the whole enchilada.”

Zak regarded her doubtfully. “Sure, whatever you say, Mac. But promise me you’ll be careful. If you’re right and these SWAT guys are crooked, you need to be careful. There are a lot of scary people in this town who piss in their boots at the idea of the DPD SWAT coming through their front door. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t,” she promised. “Now, stop worrying. I’m going to go see Ted. Don’t eat all my pita chips while I’m gone.”

Ted Simms had been her editor since she’d started working at the newspaper. A big man with a serious twang and more awards than Mac could even name, Ted could be a teddy bear one minute and a grizzly the next, but she wouldn’t want to work for anyone else.

He looked up from his computer when she walked in, his bushy brows coming together over his reading glasses. “Where the hell have you been all day?”

She flopped down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. “I told Zak to tell you I’d be out at the SWAT compound.”

“For five hours?”

“Four, actually.” But who was counting? “I got the guided tour. And starting tomorrow, I’ve been given a free pass to spend the next few days with them.” She grinned. “No one has ever gotten this kind of access, Ted. No one!”

She didn’t expect her editor to fist-bump her or anything, but he looked as if he’d just eaten something that didn’t agree with him.

He took off his glasses and set them on the desk. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to spend too much time with those SWAT guys, Mac.”

What the heck? She’d just told him she got a ticket on the fifty-yard line of the biggest game in town, and now he didn’t want her to go?

“Ted, I know you think these SWAT guys are squeaky clean, but I’m telling you they’re up to something,” she said. “I promise I won’t print a word unless it’s Pulitzer-worthy. If this turns out to be a simple case of cops on the take, I’ll drop the whole thing.”

Her editor sighed. “Do you know who was killed during the SWAT raid this morning?”

The sudden change of gear caught her off guard. “What? No, I don’t know who it was. And this may sound terrible, but I saw the video of how the guy was acting—slapping women around and waving his gun everywhere—so I don’t have a problem with him being dead. The SWAT team may be up to something, but they did Dallas a service by killing that thug.”

“That thug was Ryan Hardy.”

“As in the son of Walter Hardy?”

She wasn’t on a first-name basis with many thugs, but she knew Walter—everyone in Dallas knew him.

“Yes.” Ted’s mouth tightened. “His only son. As in the kid the crazy bastard dotes on.”

Now she was the one who felt as if she’d eaten something that didn’t agree with her. “Oh, crap.”

“Yeah—crap. Now do you understand why you need to stay away from this?”

Mac understood all right. She’d made a living out of dealing with some unsavory men, but Walter Hardy had to be at the top of the heap when it came to assholes. Drugs, stolen cars, prostitutes, sex slaves, weapons, murder—if there was an illegal way to make money and hurt people in the process, Hardy was involved in it. And in almost forty years in the business on both sides of the border, no one had ever come close to proving anything. He’d never even been taken in for questioning, much less arrested.

Part of it was because the man was more intelligent than the average criminal. He was Oxford educated and had multiple degrees to go along with a ton of street smarts. On top of that, he was rich beyond belief. And in a city of very rich men, that was saying a lot. He owned more real estate and cargo ships than anyone could count, not to mention that he sat on the board of a dozen major companies. To say he was powerful and connected was putting it mildly. He was definitely a man people didn’t want to mess with.

“Rumor is he believes the federal, state, and local governments conspired to kill his son because they couldn’t get to him. He’s overlooking the fact that his son broke into a bank, shot several cops, then took all those hostages—all on video.” Ted shook his head. “But facts never get in the way for people like Hardy.”

No, they didn’t. “Okay, so Hardy thinks the government is out to get him. What does any of this have to do with my investigation of SWAT?”

“Because while Hardy might not be able to go after some supposed government officials who gave the orders to kill his son, he can go after the people who pulled the trigger. He’s going to make someone pay, Mac, and that someone is SWAT.”

Her editor had good reason to be worried, but as sensible as it was to keep her distance from all things SWAT at the moment, she couldn’t do that. It wasn’t that she was crazy or reckless. She simply knew a good story when she saw one. And this story had just gotten better.

Ted must have figured that out, too, because he sighed. “I’m not going to be able to stop you, am I? Then at least promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I will,” she said. When he lifted a brow, she added, “I promise.”

***

Gage knocked on her door exactly on time. No surprise there. He’d probably gotten to her apartment building ten minutes early just so he could drive around and memorize the layout of the neighborhood.

Mac gave her reflection one more look in the bedroom’s full-length mirror, wondering for about the tenth time if she should have worn jeans instead of the little black dress she had on. But somewhere between the fourth and fifth change of clothes, she’d admitted to herself that this date was about more than simply being a means to an end. She liked spending time with Gage. That wasn’t such a bad thing, right?

Of course, if Gage took her to the local pizza place down the street, she was going to regret not wearing something more casual.

Her worries disappeared when she opened the door to discover the SWAT commander hadn’t gone the jeans and T-shirt route, either. Instead, he was wearing a suit that showed off his impressive height and wide shoulders. Damn, he looked good enough to eat.

Gage flashed her a smile. “Hope I’m not too early.”

“You’re perfect.” If he was any more perfect, there’d have to be a warning label on him. “Let me grab my purse.”

When she turned back around, she found Gage eyeing her like she was going to be on tonight’s menu. If any other man undressed her with his eyes like that, she would have been uncomfortable. But the heat from his molten eyes made her warm all over.

“You look beautiful,” he said as they rode down in the elevator.

“Thank you.” She smiled. “I’m just glad I picked the right one. I didn’t realize until I started getting dressed that I never asked where we were going.”

“I made reservations at Chambre Francaise. I hope that’s okay with you?”

Whoa. Mac was so surprised she teetered a little on her high heels as she stepped out of the elevator. Chambre Francaise was one very fancy restaurant, not to mention ungodly expensive. And about as far from the pizza place down the street as you could get and still be on the same planet. It definitely wasn’t the type of place she imagined Gage taking her. He seemed more like a steak-and-potatoes guy. Apparently, looks could be deceiving. She felt bad about the dent having dinner there was going to leave in Gage’s wallet, though.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said. “I know how difficult it can be getting into that place.”

Gage opened the door of his shiny, black Dodge Charger for her—no guy had done that for her since her high school crush had taken her to the prom.

He gave her a lopsided grin. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but the only reason I was able to get in the place at all is because I helped out the head chef’s son a while back. He promised me a table for two anytime I asked.”

“Now, that sounds like a story I’d be interested in hearing. But still,” she said when he’d climbed in beside her and started the engine, “Chambre Francaise is a very nice place. And expensive.”

He glanced at her as he guided the car out of the parking garage and into downtown traffic. “I’m sure it’ll be money well spent.”

That look turned up the heat between them even more. “You think?”

“I do,” he said. “Although in the interest of full disclosure, I have to tell you the table also comes with a major discount. Which is actually the only way I’m able to afford to take you there. But like they say, it’s the thought that counts.”

She couldn’t help laughing. “You really do hang out with men all day, don’t you? Little piece of advice—don’t let a woman know she’s getting dinner at a discount. It sort of ruins the gesture.”

He chuckled. “For some reason I thought a journalist like you would be fixated on the truth.”

“I am,” she said. “But just because I’m a journalist, it doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate a little chivalry now and then.”

He gave her another smoldering look. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Five minutes in and they were already flirting. At this rate, she was going to have a hard time remembering this was supposed to be a fishing expedition. Because so far, it was feeling a lot more like a date to her. She needed to steer the conversation back into safer territory, and fast. So, she brought up the one subject sure to cool things down—the man his SWAT team had killed at the warehouse.

“I guess by now the department has told you who that thug at the warehouse was, huh?”

If Gage was caught off guard by the sudden shift in subject, he didn’t let on. In fact, his expression didn’t change at all as he took his eyes off the road to check the rearview mirror. “Actually, I didn’t know who he was until I got home and saw it on the news.”

She turned a little in her seat so she could see his face better. “Seriously? Isn’t the fact that a member of your team just killed the son of the most powerful criminal in the northern hemisphere something your boss thought he should mention?”

“The department doesn’t work like that,” he said. “Internal Affairs talked to Xander and me, but their only concern is whether it was a clean shooting or not. They rarely tell us the name of the suspect in a case like that. The shrinks think it makes it too personal for the officer and can make the post-shooting counseling session even harder.”

Huh. Considering their hard-core image, she hadn’t thought an officer in SWAT would even attend counseling like that.

“That’s all fine and good if Xander shot your average guy,” she agreed. “But this was Ryan Hardy, the son of a man most people consider pretty damn scary. Word on the street is that he’s already blaming your SWAT team for assassinating his son.”

He shrugged. “People always stir up crap when things like this happen, but they get over it—or they don’t. What’s Hardy going to do, take out a contract on the entire SWAT team?”

“That’s exactly what I would think he’s going to do.”

Gage didn’t act as if he thought that was very likely, but she noticed he spent a lot of time checking his mirrors. Dallas traffic was bad, but not that bad.

Mac opened her mouth to call him on it, but Gage asked how long she’d lived in Dallas. Guess that was his subtle way of saying he didn’t want to talk about Hardy. Okay, she wouldn’t push. For now.

“Since graduating from college,” she said in answer to his question. “I interned at the Dallas Daily Sun in the summers and loved it so much, I couldn’t turn them down when they offered me a full-time job.”

Gage gave her a sidelong glance. “Being a journalist is in your blood, I guess.”

She laughed. “I guess. I have my parents to thank for that. They’re both English professors at A&M. According to them, I started writing when I was four and haven’t stopped. I think they thought I’d follow in their footsteps, but I always wanted to be a journalist. What about you? Are you originally from Dallas?”

“San Antonio.”

She would have asked more, but they’d already pulled up in front of the restaurant. A valet immediately came around to take Gage’s keys while another opened her door. The rest of the conversation would have to wait until they were seated.

There was a line of people waiting for tables, so Mac was surprised when the hostess seated them right away. But while the chef might have promised Gage a table for two any time he requested it, the Chambre Francaise was packed seven days a week. So their booth ended up being very small and out of the way. It wasn’t exactly in the kitchen, but close. Mac didn’t mind, though. The short, rotund chef, however, was clearly embarrassed he only had the small booth to offer them.

“Don’t worry about it, Emile.” Gage stood and took the shorter man’s hand in one of his, clapping him on the back with the other. “The way I see it, this is the best seat in the house. I couldn’t ask for a better place to have a nice, quiet dinner, which is exactly what we’re looking for. How’s Kyle getting along?”

Emile beamed as only a proud parent could. “He is doing very well. Good grades, and more importantly, he’s passionate about what he’s learning. And once again, I owe that all to you.”

“It was all Kyle,” Gage insisted.

Emile looked as if he would have argued, but Gage introduced Mac before the man could say anything else.

The round chef took her hand in both of his with a smile. “A pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle.” He gave Gage an approving nod. “Finally, you bring a beautiful woman with you to dinner. I was starting to worry that with your job, you would be alone forever.”

Mac laughed. If she didn’t know better, she’d think Gage was actually blushing.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Emile,” he said as he slid into the booth. “But this is a working dinner.”

The chef smiled. “It has been my experience that the best relationships start in the workplace. Look at me and my Fifi.” His smile broadened. “Okay, okay. I won’t embarrass you further, my friend. I will go back to the kitchen. Enjoy your dinner.”

Gage shook his head as Emile disappeared through the door that led to the kitchen. “Sorry about that. He can be a bit outrageous at times. Goes along with being a head chef, I guess.”

“Because he thought we were here on a date? I would have thought the same thing in his shoes, so no, I’m not embarrassed.” She looked around. The brocade wallpaper, gold accents, and crystal chandeliers were even more elegant than she remembered. “Do you eat here often?”

He shook his head. “About once a month. Mostly to make Emile happy. He worries I don’t have enough fat in my diet.”

Mac thought about how Gage looked in his uniform pants and tight T-shirt. Emile was probably right. “Yeah, I could see why he might think that.” She picked up her glass of water and took a sip. “So, what kind of favor did you do for him?”

Gage shrugged. “His son Kyle got involved in some gang stuff. Nothing too serious, but the kid was definitely heading down the wrong path. The other guys on the team and I got him out and back on the straight and narrow. Once he figured out it was okay for a man to be a pastry chef, he decided to go to culinary school. I didn’t really do much except give him a little advice.”

She waited until the waiter who’d appeared to pour glasses of white wine for both of them left. “Something tells me you’re downplaying your part. The head chef of one of the best restaurants in Dallas doesn’t offer a reserved table for life to someone who just gave some advice to his son.”

Gage shrugged again in that self-deprecating way Mac was starting to like—a lot. “Maybe a little.”

Mac would have pressed for more, but their waitress placed plates of salad in front of them. Mac had a tomato halfway to her mouth before she realized they hadn’t ordered anything.

“Hey,” she said. “We never asked for salad.”

Gage chuckled. “That’s my fault. I told Emile to surprise me the first time I came here for dinner. He hasn’t given me a menu since. If you don’t like it, I can ask him to send out something else.”

She never would have pegged Gage as the kind of man who liked surprises, but if he could trust Emile’s choices, she supposed she could, too. Besides, she didn’t want to insult the chef.

“No. This is perfect.”

Delicious too, she thought as she took a bite. She knew she should be trying to wheedle information out of him that she could use in her exposé, but right now her story was the furthest thing from her mind. Anyway, it wasn’t like she could just come out and ask him why his men didn’t wear their NVGs, why they hadn’t taken Martinez to the hospital, or what kind of drug his team used to help them get their job done.

So instead, she asked him why he’d joined the military straight out of high school. But while Gage willingly talked about himself, she noticed he kept bringing the conversation back around to her. By the time they’d finished their French onion soup, he probably knew more about her life growing up in College Station as she did. When he did talk about SWAT, it was about the men who worked for him and their accomplishments. He even admitted he worried about their safety.

“Sometimes, I feel more like their father than their commander,” he said wryly.

Mac couldn’t help but smile. Who’d have thought a big, hunky guy like Gage Dixon would have a paternal side? One more thing to like about him.

“You’re definitely nowhere near old enough to be their father,” she told him.

“Just listen to a conversation between Becker and me sometime,” he said. “There’s not a suspension bridge around that could span that generation gap.”

She laughed. All her working dinners should be this much fun. They were usually spent parked in front of her laptop with a TV dinner and the television for company. She hadn’t realized how dull that was until now. She could definitely get used to sitting across the table from Gage every night. Especially one this small.

It’d started with a few accidental touches as their legs brushed under the tiny table while they ate their salads. They both apologized, but when it happened again over soup, then again during the main course, she began to think maybe it wasn’t accidental at all. Not that she minded. Every time his pants-covered leg pressed up against her bare one, a warm tingle spiraled through her and settled in her tummy. That was when she realized she was the one initiating the contact, not Gage. In fact, he hadn’t moved at all.

She blushed, attempting to restrain herself from playing footsie as she pushed a piece of lightly breaded chicken around the creamy wine sauce it was smothered in while Gage told her why he’d become a cop after pulling a six-year hitch in the army. She didn’t quite succeed, mostly because she couldn’t bring herself to totally break contact with the solid form of his muscular thigh. But it was the best she could do given the limited space under the small table.

That was a lie, though. She didn’t stop because touching him felt too damn good. Hell, she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d been on a date. She hadn’t realized how much she missed it.

She pressed her leg more firmly against his inner thigh and rubbed her knee against his as he steered the conversation back around to her again. If it bothered him, she had no doubt he’d let her know.

But Gage didn’t even seem to notice. Or maybe he had noticed and simply didn’t want her to stop.

“It sounds like you spend a lot of time at the office,” Gage observed as he sipped his wine. “That’s gotta be hell on your social life.”

Her first instinct was to deny it and tell him she was getting busy every night. Not because she wanted to play hard to get, but because she didn’t want to seem like the pathetic workaholic she was. She caught herself, though. It wasn’t as if he was accusing her of being a loser, just busy.

She finished her chicken and set her knife and fork on her plate. “Pretty much. I spent most of my adult life getting to the top of my profession, and every minute since then working to stay there. It doesn’t leave much time for anything else.”

Gage smiled, and she could have sworn she felt his knee rub against hers. “Well, it’s not like I can say I’m much better. I’ve already admitted I spend a couple nights out of every week in the office doing paperwork, so you know my social life sucks.”

She let out a little snort of laughter. “We do make quite the pair, don’t we?”

He gave her one of those smoldering looks of his. “Yes, we do.”

His leg most definitely rubbed against hers, she was sure of it.

By the time dessert came out, she was starting to think Emile had turned up the heat in the restaurant. At least that would explain why she suddenly felt hot all over. Of course, the recent temperature spike might also have to do with the fact that she’d dropped her high heel off her right foot and begun casually running her toes up and down Gage’s lower leg.

Gage leaned back comfortably in his side of the booth, watching her with smoky eyes the whole time she did it. In between, he asked her little tidbits about her life. Like whether she’d ever thought about making the jump to New York or Washington, why journalists made more money than reporters, and whether she liked to cook or order takeout.

Carrying on a completely normal first-date conversation with an extremely attractive man while caressing his leg with her foot was probably the most erotic thing she’d ever done in a nonerotic setting. That the man just so happened to be the focus of her investigation also made it one of the crazier things she’d ever done. She was putting her story and her reputation at risk, and she couldn’t for the life of her say why. She couldn’t help it. There was something about Gage that brought out her inner seductress. The combination of physical perfection, charming personality, and vibrant masculinity did it for her. It was all she could do not to sit in his lap and kiss the hell out of him. Damn, if she could figure out how to bottle whatever it was about him that was so alluring, she’d quit her job and start a new line of men’s body spray—one that actually worked, unlike those silly commercials she saw all the time.

It took every ounce of self-control she possessed to keep her foot to those parts of his leg below the knee. The way he was leaning back it was almost as if he was inviting her to run her toes up a little higher. But she knew that if she let herself start to wander, she wasn’t likely to stop until she got to his crotch. And that would be totally going too far. The thought alone was enough to make her whole body tremble.

Mac pulled her gaze away from Gage to see what kind of dessert Emile had selected for them—chocolate soufflé, of course. She dipped her spoon into the center and tasted it. She sighed, unable to help herself.

The sound made Gage look up from his own dessert, his dark eyes almost gold in the candlelight. She smiled at him.

“When you asked me to have dinner with you earlier today, you said you needed to get to know me better so you’d feel more comfortable with me hanging around the compound.” She ran her toes up and down his leg again. “Did it work?”

“Mostly,” he said. “I just have one more question.”

His face turned so serious that she stopped moving her foot and lowered it to the floor. Maybe she’d been wrong to try and mix business with pleasure. What if he thought her flirting was a game to get him to agree to let her hang around the compound? She wasn’t above flirting to get a scoop, but that wasn’t what she’d been doing with him. She was seriously attracted to Gage.

“Okay,” she said. “What’s your question?”

He was silent, as if he was searching for the right words. His eyes were so intense it almost took her breath away.

“Would you print the story of a lifetime if it meant that innocent people got hurt?”

She’d expected him to ask her if she was playing games with him to get what she wanted. She hadn’t expected a philosophical question like that.

But looking into Gage’s dark eyes, she realized it hadn’t been a philosophical question about a hypothetical story. He was asking if the story she was planning to write about SWAT would hurt the people he cared about—his men.

“I would never write a story if it meant innocent people would get hurt—no matter how big it was.”

He regarded her in silence for so long she thought he didn’t believe her. But then the corners of his mouth curved. “Then consider me completely comfortable with you hanging around the compound.”

Mac almost sagged with relief. “Are you sure the department won’t mind?”

“They won’t mind.” He took a bite of the rich dessert. “They’re always trying to get me to do more community outreach. They’ll be thrilled.”

Until they see the story on the front page.

He gestured with his spoon. “Eat your soufflé before it gets cold.”

She spooned another scoop of the scrumptious chocolate dessert into her mouth, chewing slowly as she wondered whether she should go back to playing footsie again when she felt Gage’s hand on her knee. The sigh she let out this time had nothing to do with how good Emile’s soufflé was. She thought for sure the sexual thermostat had been turned down for the evening after what they’d just discussed. Guess she’d been wrong.

Mac forced herself to play it cool while they talked about her newest obsession—pita chips—and the sweet older lady who lived in the apartment next door to hers. But it was nearly impossible not to sigh with pleasure as Gage made slow, little circles on her knee with his finger. He never ventured more than an inch or two up her thigh—even though she silently prayed he would—but it still felt heavenly. The tingling she’d felt before had disappeared, replaced by a warm rush of heat between her thighs.

She bit her lip. Damn, she really needed to get out more. All Gage did was caress her knee and she got wet. If he touched her anywhere else, she’d probably pass out.

But she was willing to risk it.

It was in that moment of bliss that Emile decided to come over and wish them a pleasurable evening. Mac had to bite her tongue to keep from telling the man that she and Gage were already in the pleasurable part of the evening—thank you and please go away. She almost groaned when Gage took his hand off her knee so he could shake the man’s hand again. She pushed herself up on weak legs to do the same.

“Dinner was delicious,” she told him. “I loved every bite.”

“I’m so glad you enjoyed yourselves.” Emile hugged her, putting his mouth to her ear. “You make Gage happy, Mackenzie. And it would make me very happy if you came with him the next time he eats here.”

She laughed. “I might just do that.”

Mac glanced at Gage out of the corner of her eye to see him flush beneath his tan. She didn’t know how he could possibly have heard Emile’s whispered words, but apparently he had.

Emile put his beefy arms around both of them as he walked them to the door. “Don’t do anything foolish with this one, Gage. She’s special.”

They didn’t talk much on the drive to her apartment, so Mac relaxed back in the seat and used the quiet time to replay the evening. Between the fantastic food, intimate conversation, and sexy footsie under the table, she wasn’t sure how the night could have been any better.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. She knew exactly how it might get better. And it’d start with inviting Gage into her apartment. Once inside, they might make it to her bedroom, but they might not. If they didn’t, the floor anywhere along the way would be just fine, too.

She smiled to herself. This was turning into the most unusual story she’d ever worked. And there was a story here—she was sure of that. But there was also a hell of a man involved. One who distracted and aroused her like no one she’d ever met before.

It was almost enough to make her consider putting the story on the back burner. Maybe after tonight, she just might.

When they got to her apartment building, Gage came around to open her door for her, then rode up in the elevator so he could escort her to the door. She took out her key and slipped it into the lock, then turned to invite him in. But Gage spoke first.

“I had an amazing time tonight. I haven’t had that much fun in a long time.”

She smiled. “Me, too.” Then she took a deep breath and jumped in the deep end. “The fun doesn’t have to end yet, you know.”

“I know.” The hot look in his eyes almost set her on fire right there in the hallway. She wasn’t sure they’d make it as far as the entryway once they got inside. But he shook his head. “We’ve got an early day tomorrow. PT starts at 0630. You need to get your sleep if you’re going to be all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for it.”

Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed? But Gage was already heading for the elevator.

“Wait!” He turned. “What’s PT, and why the hell does it start so early?”

He pushed the down button for the elevator. “It’s short for physical training—exercise. We do it three days a week, and we start early so we can get it over with before it gets too hot. You said you wanted to see us train, remember? So you’ll have proof that we’re not using PEDs.”

“But—”

Crap. After all the flirting, touching, and heated looks across the table, she’d been so sure he’d spend the night with her.

The elevator door opened and he stepped inside. “No buts, Mackenzie. See you tomorrow at 0630 hours.”

The doors closed and just like that, her chance of seeing the hunky SWAT officer naked disappeared.

She stood there staring at the elevator for a long time, sure that Gage would change his mind. But he didn’t. Sighing, she unlocked her door and walked into her apartment. What the hell had just happened? She’d been turned on, and so had Gage—she was sure of it. Why hadn’t he stayed?

Because Gage had been playing her the whole night. The answer was so obvious she almost laughed. She should be angry, but she wasn’t. She was so sure she’d been the one running the show tonight, but he’d been the one in charge the whole time. They’d spent almost the entire evening talking about her, while she knew next to nothing about Gage or the members of his team.

She kicked off her shoes, then slipped out of her dress and hung it up. If she was angry at anyone, she was angry at herself for giving up so much information. Gage knew almost everything there was to know about her—where she’d gone to school, where she’d worked, who her friends were, what kind of stories she liked to pursue. On top of all that, he’d figured out her story about the PEDs was just a front for another, more serious investigation—that was why he’d asked the question about whether she’d be willing to hurt innocent people to get a story.

All he’d had to do was gaze at her with those dark, smoldering eyes of his and she’d told him everything. The worst part was that Gage also knew how much he turned her on, and that he could use it against her.

Mac finished brushing her teeth and stripped off her underwear. Oh damn, her panties were a complete mess. She usually didn’t get this wet even after an orgasm—or two. Gage had done it with nothing more than a hand on her knee.

She tried to ignore the throbbing between her thighs and climbed into bed, absently wondering if Gage could have made her come just by caressing her thigh. She groaned. Talk about safe sex.

She was going to have to be extremely careful around him. Someone with his looks, his body, his obviously clever mind, and the ability to drive her to sexual distraction with only a touch was a very dangerous man.