He looked bemused. “Why, your sister’s case, of course. Today is the anniversary of—”
Another screech echoed through the bar, courtesy of the Prince wanna-be, and Taylor set her glass on the bar a little too hard. Everybody was a flippin’ expert. Everybody had heard about poor Taylor Sinclair and the hunt for her missing sister. Everyone had a goddamn theory and a profile on the abductor.
As if the Bureau’s lead cold case investigator hadn’t gone over every possible aspect of the case a million times already, eviscerating her heart each and every time.
“Of course. Silly me.” Taylor pasted on a fake smile and used her equally fake cheery voice. “Why don’t you grab those two agents from Vermont? They’re over there at that table. You all can have fun discussing your meaningless theories while I go gag myself.”
Tom/Ted raised his brows as Leo sputtered something she didn’t hear.
Unfortunately, the Bureau hadn’t sprung for any of her teammates to accompany her to the conference. She needed a wingman—or another drink—but there was no one else in the vicinity she was remotely interested in talking to, and even liquor couldn’t dull the ice in her chest. She should just call it a night. Try to sleep.
As if.
“I used to like that song,” a deep male voice said from behind her.
One distraction coming up.
“Me, too,” she said, hoping the man matched the voice as she pivoted to take a peek.
And,ho-boy, he was as sexy as that deep voice, but dammit, why did it have to behim?
Even in her heels, she had to look up. There she saw blue eyes so vivid in the subpar lighting they nearly blinded her. The smile wasn’t bad either. A little crooked, with a couple days worth of beard growth on the jawline, but it matched the messy hair and made his eyes crinkle good-naturedly in the corners.
“Matt Stephens,” she said. “What a surprise.”Not.
Matt “Mad Dog” Stephens looked pleased that she remembered his name. Hard not to when he’d stolen a case out from under her a year ago. Hard not to remember those intense, sky-blue eyes and that crooked smile that irritated the crap out of her.
“Special Agent Taylor Sinclair.” The way he rolled her name off his tongue made it sound like he was sucking on a piece of sweet candy. “I didn’t take you for a Prince fan.”
The karaoke had mercifully stopped and someone hit the jukebox, a Rhianna song kicking in.
Taylor was about to blow Matt off even though he was cute and kind of charming, because no way was she cavorting with the enemy. But then, from the corner of her eye, she noticed Leo and his friends staring at her withthatlook. The one people used forpoor Taylor Sinclair, sister of an abducted girl and from a broken family.
Show them you’re fine. Better than fine.
She gave Matt a flirty smile and playfully punched his arm like they were buddies.Hello, new wingman. “Why wouldn’t I be a Prince fan? That’s practically sacrilegious or unpatriotic, or something, isn’t it?”
“I’ve been trying to talk to you all day,” he said, flashing that infectious, quirky smile again.
She fought to keep her lips from mirroring his. “Why?”
“Duh. You’re the brainiest chick here. Your close rate makes me a huge fanboy. Plus, I’m not one to ignore beautiful women. Why wouldn’t I want to talk to you?”
Damn, he was cute. A liar, but a cute one. “Yeah, so you can steal my cases.”
His eyes grew serious. “Look, I know you think I stole the Riley Miller case, but the FBI was limited in what it could do. I have more…”—he shrugged—“resources.”
Illegal ones. “So you’re feeling guilty. That’s good. You can buy me a fresh drink.”
He grinned and took her hand, stroking his thumb over her palm. “How about a dance instead?”
She should pull her hand back. “Oh, hell, no. I don’t dance with the enemy.”
He grabbed her hand again, tickled the palm. “But you’d drink with him?”
Her turn to grin, the ice in her chest melting a smidgen. “Depends on whether he provides top-shelf sustenance.”
They stared at each other for a long moment and something changed between them. Something hot and sexy that warmed Taylor’s blood even more than the scotch she’d consumed listening to Tom/Ted.
