Cole shook her head at some internal thought. “I wasn’t the perfect daughter with As because I wanted to be. I just knew it would have killed my parents if I’d become a rebel after they divorced. Becca and I had to show them we were okay, that they didn’t ruin us.”
Scott pulled up a knee and rested his elbow on it, letting the beer bottle dangle from the hook of two fingers. Unlike his own, he’d always thought she had the perfect childhood. After all, even though they were divorced, her parents had presented a united front to him. They didn’t like him.
“You never told me how the divorce affected you before.”
She glanced at him, for once without her guard up. “We didn’t do much real talking the years we were together.”
He couldn’t argue with that. Too hot to cool down. Plus, to allow her to open up would have meant she would have expected the same from him. He hadn’t wanted her to see him as he really was, not when she gazed at him like he was Superman, the Socrates of law enforcement, and the Sexiest Man Alive all rolled into one. How could he have been so blind?
“So circumstances prevented you from being…?”
She smiled. “Who knows? Goth, maybe, or I might have gotten a nose ring and tattoos—”
“Tattoos? You hate tattoos.”
“Not hate. I just didn’t want you to ruin a great body with one of those ugly biker tats you kept threatening to get. And I certainly didn’t want some biker-gang scum with an ink gun anywhere near you. Hepatitis? HIV?”
Scott let her explanation sink in. He didn’t recall any of their fights on the subject including such a reasonable argument. Or, maybe he had just stopped listening before she could make it.
“Of course, I’m not inflexible.” The corner of her mouth lifted though she didn’t glance at him. “I found a licensed artist who is working to pay her way to become a nurse practitioner.”
He sat forward suddenly. “You’ve got a tattoo?”
She nodded. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
Scott’s gaze swept over her. She’d showered and changed before they ate. Her hair was swept up in a ponytail he longed to tug at. No designs on her slender neck. The sleeveless vee-neck tee and shorts she wore couldn’t be hiding a tattoo on her arms or her legs, which meant no thigh or chest tattoos. It had to be in a secret place. A variety of possibilities invaded his thoughts, each one more intimate than the last. He felt himself begin to sweat. “Can I see it?”
To his astonishment, she gave him a secret naughty-girl smile. “In your dreams, Agent Lucca. In your dreams.”
Well hell. Now he was going to have to see it. Somehow.
Cole reached for the beer she had earlier refused. “We need to get back to business.”
She did, maybe. He wanted to continue to think about her hidden tattoo. He stretched, deliberately allowing his legs to spread until one of his denim-clad thighs leaned against her bare one. When she didn’t immediately shift away, he smiled. Now they could talk business.
“Lattimore called this afternoon. He’s sending out people in the morning to evaluate our progress. We need to get our story straight and prove to them that we can do this before we take it on the road.”
“How do we do that?”
“Glad you asked.” He clinked his bottle to hers. “We need to move in together.”
Cole bit back her initial reaction. Of course, they had to move in together. They were going to pretend to be a couple. A real couple.
“Is that a problem?” Scott leaned toward her. “You got a boyfriend somewhere who won’t like it?”
Cole had been expecting he would ask, sooner or later, if there was a man in her life. She even had a story ready. “He understands.”
“Does he?” The question came out of Scott in a huff of surprise.
Shit. That wasn’t the answer he’d wanted to hear. But he tried to play it off casually.
“I most definitely wouldn’t understand a woman I cared about moving in with another guy, even if it was strictly for the job. I’d be a wild man.”
“Yes. You would.” Kate Winslow was in the house. “That’s why he’s nothing like you.”
Scott reared back, bracing his elbows on the porch. Cole tried not to notice how his sprawl showed off his long lean body to good effect. “So, what’s he like?”
“He’s a podiatrist.” She saw his jaw drop a little before a smirk punched dimples into his cheeks. “I know. Feet. That’s what everyone thinks. But he’s a surgeon. Sports medicine. Specializing in injuries to the foot, ankle, and lower leg.”
“Sounds like a busy guy.”
“He is. Sports medicine is very lucrative.”
He gazed at her between narrowed lids. “Interesting.”
“What?”
“You haven’t mentioned his name.”
“Robert Dawson. Dr. Robert Dawson. Becca introduced us.” She had looked up the name of the doctor her sister had been trying to set her up with, in case Scott decided to check. She just hoped the guy would never know how she was lying about him.
“Doc Rob? Cute.” Scott rocked back into a seated position. “You’ve known him long?”