Here For Me: Hawkeye, #1 by Sierra Cartwright

Author:Sierra Cartwright
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sierra Cartwright

Chapter 2

Madre de Dios.

Trace hadn’t been sure what to expect when Ms. Inamorata summoned him to her office a couple of hours ago. She was always composed, calm under pressure, which was why Hawkeye trusted her implicitly and had made her part of his inner circle. Whenever a situation got out of hand, she could be counted on to deal with local and federal authorities, smoothing over all the details. According to Hawkeye, she batted cleanup better than any major leaguer.

So when Trace saw her, blonde hair mussed as if she’d dragged a hand through it, worrying a pen between her teeth, he’d taken a seat and never considered refusing the request to look after her younger sister, a part-time adjunct professor who was working on a top secret project for an unnamed Hawkeye client. Inamorata had declined to provide any further information, but added that she would clear Aimee to share details if she wanted to.

Inamorata confessed she was perplexed by the break-in. Nothing had been taken, or so it appeared. Theoretically, no one knew who Aimee was. As far as friends and neighbors were concerned, she taught at the college and worked on educational software.

Bad guys shouldn’t know of her existence.

But still, Ms. Inamorata wasn’t willing to take any unnecessary risks.

Despite Aimee’s protests that she didn’t need protection, it wouldn’t hurt to monitor the situation. Her routine was predictable. She rarely went out, except for her latte and daily exercise. This semester, she wasn’t teaching.

He’d expected Aimee’s fiery protests when he arrived, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of her sculptured body or his intense physical reaction to her. It was a force of its own, startling and demanding, as unwelcome as it was unexpected.

Shaking his head to clear it, he opened her bedroom door. Like the rest of the house, it was uncluttered. Her bed was made, and soft, feminine pillows adorned the bright pink quilt. With determination, he shoved aside the thought of taking her on it, exorcising the need that consumed him.

Trace strode to her closet. It, too, was exactly what he expected. She had half a dozen pairs of running shoes, some dress sandals, lots of outdoor and sports gear, and a tennis racquet. She didn’t have many clothes hanging there, just a few pairs of slacks, several skirts, a number of blouses, and a bunch of sleeveless shirts. The slinky black dress tucked in the corner intrigued him, and he had to forcibly remind himself he was here for work. If he’d met her at the annual holiday party, things would have been different…much different.

He crouched in front of her bookcase. Half a shelf of self-help titles. A couple of text books, a few bestsellers, and on the bottom right, an extensive collection of erotic fiction along with two respected how-to manuals about BDSM.

Fuck.

Aimee Inamorata had carnal interests that matched his own.

Double fuck. This was dangerous knowledge. He had no business thinking about her in a sexual way.

He moved to her dresser, checked beneath her jewelry box, behind picture frames.

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