Not physically. Nothing physical could happen between them. He was too old for her and did not date other agents, especially junior agents. He wasn’t about to take advantage of someone younger or more vulnerable. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I thought we were working this case?”
She chewed her lip, which didn’t help his resolve to keep things strictly professional.
“How can we if we don’t have access to the case files?” she asked.
The doorbell rang again.
“We have something else. Something better.”
“More beef stew?” she asked dryly, trailing behind him to the front door.
He turned so abruptly she bumped into him. Electricity shot through him. It had nothing to do with the pain from his injuries.
He steadied her with his good hand. “There’s no line up of ex-lovers. I don’t usually get involved with women who don’t realize upfront what I’m interested in, and I’m only ever interested in short-term.”
Their gazes locked, and he could feel his heart beating just a fraction too hard. He wasn’t proud of his commitment issues, but his mother’s death, combined with a rotating door of temporary step-mothers had left him leery of even the pretense of emotional attachment. Why get invested when chances were it wouldn’t work out anyway?
He reached out and couldn’t stop himself from hooking a lock of hair that had escaped out of her tight bun behind her ear. “I’m sorry I used you to try to drive Suzanna away, even if it was only implied. I won’t do that again.”
She trembled in his hold.
Was she cold or did she feel this inconvenient attraction too? He hoped to hell it was all one-sided, because that would make it much easier to keep his hands to himself.
Her hazel eyes were huge and full of shadows. She swallowed noisily. “Sorry. I was projecting. I’ve been on the receiving end of enough brushoffs to feel sorry for Suzanna. It sucks.”
“I’ve been there too, Ava. Most people have.” His gaze flicked to the blemish on her brow and the fresh graze on her cheek. “Is that how you got the scar?”
“No.”
“Not gonna tell me that story?”
“I doubt it.”
He laughed. At least she was honest.
The doorbell rang again.
Ava blinked, and he stepped back. He wasn’t doing a good job of keeping her at arm’s length but here came the cavalry. Dominic checked the peephole this time.
Lincoln Frazer, head of BAU-4, peered back at him, looking pissed at being kept waiting.
Dominic swung the door open. Lincoln stepped inside to be greeted by the dog who went ballistic sniffing the guy’s pant legs. Lincoln was followed by the heavily pregnant agent who’d accompanied him to the scene of the shooting at Van’s funeral. Agent Mallory Rooney. The senator’s daughter.
He winced because he hated when people did that—labeled him by his father’s achievements rather than his own.
Another man stood behind them, assessing Dominic with quiet gray eyes.
Lincoln eyed his bruised face. “Hurt much?”
Dominic shrugged.
“Thought so.” The man grinned. “So, I guess the big question is, who wants you dead and why?”
Chapter Twelve
“You guys remember Special Agent Ava Kanas?” Dominic asked as he closed the door behind the newcomers.
“How could we forget the Special Agent who is single-handedly saving America,” Lincoln Frazer commented dryly, but his tone was amused rather than critical.
The third man stepped forward and held out his hand. “Alex Parker. Agent Rooney’s husband. I consult for the FBI on cybersecurity matters.”
Ava shook his hand. This was the guy rumored to have worked for the CIA before he was incarcerated in a Moroccan jail. Ava noted they wore matching scars on their brows. She wondered if he’d got his from being pistol whipped after watching his father’s murder. Something in the depths of his eyes suggested worse. Much worse.
He smiled, and she found herself smiling back.
Sheridan led the way to the dining room. Ava followed, walking beside the heavily pregnant agent. Parker played with the dog as he brought up the rear.
“When’s your baby due?” Ava asked.
Rooney shot her a rueful glance. “Three more weeks. I feel like I’ve been pregnant forever.”
“You’re working right up until the birth?”
“To the bitter end, which is why Alex is hovering even more than he usually does,” Rooney said with a smile that suggested she didn’t mind. “I’m actually surprised he hasn’t signed up for a midwifery course just in case something goes wrong.”
“Where do you think I go every Thursday afternoon?” he asked with a straight face.
Rooney gave her husband a quelling look, then nodded toward Frazer. “The boss banned me from traveling for work, but this is within easy driving distance of Quantico. I’d rather do something useful than sit around wondering where my toes went.”
Ava laughed. “Enjoy the freedom while you can.”
“You have kids?”
Dominic glanced sharply over his shoulder.
Ava shook her head. She had no idea how she’d be able to meld a family with a successful FBI career, or unsuccessful one for that matter. Rooney obviously had a supportive husband, but not everyone was a millionaire who could consult for the FBI.
Ava was only twenty-six and, despite her mother’s incessant nagging, wasn’t in any rush to get hitched. She didn’t want to be tied down any more than Sheridan did. “My sister has two kids under two. We talk.”
Rooney blew out a breath that made her bangs dance. “Now that’s bravery.”
Dominic led them to his fancy dining table and invited them all to sit. He went and grabbed his laptop, then sat at the head of the table. He moved stiffly, obviously in pain, but too stoic to admit it. He probably shouldn’t even be out of bed, never mind working a case.