Page 7 of Nothing to Fear

Gideon popped the chocolate in his mouth, moaning mmmm, an intense look on his face, fingers curling as he savored it. Oh, she’d love to melt in his mouth like that. Mmmm, indeed.

But even if she managed to get through a conversation without babbling or blowing it by being herself, she’d heard through office gossip about the way he picked up women at Rocky’s Bar. For one night only. Reminded her of a Broadway musical song her mom had loved.

“One night only,” she sang under her breath, “come on, baby.”

“What’d you say?” Gideon licked the remnants of chocolate from his fingers.

“Oh, nothing.” Her cheeks burned. Shut. Up.

“Why didn’t you take any fudge? Don’t like chocolate?”

“I love chocolate, but I don’t eat homemade stuff other people bring in.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know if their kitchen is clean, if they have cats or wash their hands before cooking. Amanda told me her son, Jackson, sneezed in cake batter once, and she still baked it.”

Willow’s skin crawled with the heebie-jeebies.

“Don’t you have a dog?”

“Cats and dogs are different. Cats climb all over everything. But no, I don’t have a dog.”

Gideon nodded with another constipated expression. She bit her lip, quickening her step.

In the central hall, they passed Director Sanborn talking to two forensic accountants who’d been ordered to report here even though it was a holiday. The chief wanted to follow the money to find the mole by auditing everyone. The pressure on him was immense. Surely, the director of national intelligence and the president, the only two people Sanborn answered to, were looking at this situation under a microscope.

The chief was a good man and always looked out for her. She didn’t want to let him down. Hopefully, her new program would help catch the traitor.

Gideon tapped the button for the elevator and stood behind her, where she’d have to look over her shoulder to see him. Glancing at the carpet, she slipped her purse strap across her body and peeked back to glimpse his boots. He had big feet to match the rest of him.

“Sorry I held you up at your desk.” His warm breath brushed the nape of her neck, and her skin tingled.

“It’s okay.” She fought the dangerous impulse to look back.

“Are you hurrying off to an appointment?”

“Sort of.” After the last around-the-clock mission, she’d made a promise to be home for dinner every night this week and make fresh-cooked meals.

The ten-inch reinforced-steel elevator doors opened. She stepped inside with a shaky exhale and slunk to the far corner, needing a little distance between herself and him.

Gideon strode into the car. The heavy doors slid shut with a soft thud. He leaned against the side of the elevator and crossed his arms. Light danced off his hair, forming a halo, but his hard body and smooth swagger spelled unabashed sinner rather than saint.

His gaze homed in on hers. A shiver chased through her down to her thighs.

“You never told me what happened to your face,” he said.

“Yes, I did.” Her voice was the barest thread of sound.

“You neglected to mention who’s responsible.”

“It’s none of your business.”

He pressed his lips together and lowered his head for a second. “You’re right. I don’t mean to pry. I’m concerned, that’s all.” He pushed off the wall and moved toward her. The stark power of his impossible-to-ignore masculinity drove her feet backward.

“There’s nothing to be concerned about,” she said.

“Then what happened? A guy threw something at you?”