“I'll leave as soon as you give me what I want.”
In another time and place, that might have a nice ring to it. But standing in a Chicago hotel room with a cub reporter as obstinate as she is hot, FBI agent Derek Knight knows he has to play it charming. Something like, “By holding on to that evidence, you're interfering with FBI business, ma'am, and by the way, those long, gorgeous legs of yours would look awfully good wrapped around my. . ." Sure, losing all sense of professionalism may not help his career, but the off-duty perks would be sensational. . .
“Yeah, right, you're an FBI agent. And I can bake a cake from scratch.”
Reese Hampton is not giving up the envelope she found in her rental car--the one with the story that could take her from journalistic Siberia straight to the front page. She'll just have to outsmart the certifiably insane Fed with the movie-star good looks. Dodge and weave. Distract and bed. No! Bad hormones, bad! Still, spending time with that unbelievably broad chest up close and personal might just add, um, depth to her story. If only she can let her robe down while keeping her guard up. . .
