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at her without expression, and D.J. fought not to blush at the remembrance of what had passed between them not so long ago. He held the door partway closed, leaning against the side, as if he was afraid she'd invade his domain. |
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She held up his bag of food without a sound, not trusting her voice to speak in the detached tone she desired. He took the bag with a nod of thanks and looked inside. |
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"Thanks; this is my favorite thing on the menu. How'd you know?" |
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"I didn't," she growled. Trust McCall to ruin her petty revenge. |
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He shrugged, the movement making the muscles in his arms and neck flex and release. She stared, fascinated at the play of his skin against his bones. But when he began to close the door in her face she came out of her trance just in time to stick her foot into the opening. |
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"No." She cleared her throat, horrified at the breathiness of her voice, which made her sound like an actress in an X-rated movie. McCall's eyes narrowed, and his fingers tightened on the door. When D.J. spoke again she was pleased to find her voice was back to normal. "Leave the door open. I can't hear what's going on in your room with it closed." |
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McCall's fingers relaxed, then flexed away from the door. He raised his eyebrows. "What do you think you're going to hear, Officer?" |
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She chose to ignore his suggestive tone and the emphasis he placed on the use of her title. "I'm supposed to be protecting you. I need to hear and see |
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