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“Was he cute?”
Jet cocked her head. “I guess. Yeah, he was.”
Cain scowled. Some dickhead had sent her a mixed bouquet. Could the guy not figure out what flowers suited her best? Jeez, there were even chrysanthemums in there. They were too ordinary for Jet.
She set the vase down on her desk, then sat, still smiling.
He picked up his phone and tapped.
Chrysanthemums? So lame.
He saw her read the message. Her brows snapped together.
How did you know I got flowers?
I’m a spy, remember? And those are not flowers. They’re a bunch of lame.
She scanned the area, a fierce scowl on her face.
You’d better not have a camera in here, Bond! And what, I’m not worth sending flowers to?
That’s not it. You’re just worth more than lame, boring flowers.
Shit, he knew he was skirting a line. He shouldn’t be flirting with her.
On the screen, she looked frozen. Then her fingers moved.
That’s kind of…nice.
I can be nice. I know what a smart, beautiful woman deserves.
Actually, he was pretty sure no one would ever accuse him of being nice. He saw Jet bite her lip and he swallowed a groan. He felt that small move in his cock. Then his eyes were on those lips, and he was imagining them wrapped around his cock.
What does she deserve?
He stared at her message for a beat, then tapped on the phone.
The best. Beautiful pink lilies with colorful dahlias.
Those are my favorite flowers.
Oh, he knew.
You deserve breakfast in bed, and someone to worship that small, sexy body.
On the screen, he saw her jaw move, her lips murmuring his name.
Fuck, what the hell are you doing, Cavanagh?He shouldn’t be doing this.
He watched Jet tap.
He also needs to be here doing all of that.
Cain sighed, staring at her message. He wished he could, but there were so many reasons why he couldn’t. Most of all, he wasn’t capable of that. Of a relationship.
He didn’t respond and shoved his phone away.
No more flirty texts. He needed to stay away from temptation.
