Page 79 of Inferno

Stan didn’t wear cologne on the days he was on duty. So when he came to her office, she could only detect a hint of soap or a freshly laundered shirt underlaid by warm male skin. But tonight he wore something subtle and woodsy.Potently masculine.

As her mouth watered, she smiled up at him. “You dance remarkably well.”

He spared her a brief glance. “Thanks.”

Swallowing a sharp pang of disappointment that he hadn’t returned the compliment, she lowered her gaze to his full, sexy lips framed by a manicured goatee. She was so tempted to lay her head on his shoulder and close her eyes with dreamy ecstasy, as Prissy had done. But she knew she couldn’t do that. People were watching them, so she had to keep up appearances. And the rigid tension in Stan’s body warned her that he wouldn’t welcome such a blatant gesture of intimacy.

So she contented herself with simply being in his arms, which was more than enough for now. Of course, she’d be even happier if she could get him to stop staring at his damn wife and focus onher.

Trying to capture his attention, she remarked conversationally, “Everything looks really—”

Suddenly those obsidian eyes snapped to hers, impaling her with the piercing directness of a high-powered laser. “Why did you do this?” he demanded.

Caught off guard by the question—and the harsh accusation blazing in his eyes—she stumbled over her feet.

Stan smoothly righted her without missing a step.

“W-What do you mean?” she stammered weakly. “Do what?”

“I told you I couldn’t introduce you to my wife.”

“I know,” Erin mumbled.

“So you should have kept your damn distance.”

She blinked rapidly, dismayed to feel tears welling in her eyes. As he looked away again she ducked her head, fighting shame and a crushing humiliation that was like nothing she’d ever experienced before.

The moment the song wasover,Stan released her and stepped back.

As they regarded each other, he smiled smoothly and sketched a gallant bow, no doubt for the benefit of anyone watching them. But onlyshesaw the steely glint in his eyes, the unyielding set of his jaw.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening,” he said, deceptively mild.

She summoned a shaky smile.“Same to you.”

He inclined his head, then turned and sauntered away from her without a backward glance.

She watched as he retrieved his wife from Van Dorn’s clutches, possessively cupping her elbow and leading her away.

Suddenly Prissy looked over her shoulder at Erin.

Their eyes met and held.

A range of emotions flickered across Prissy’s face—suspicion, anger, fear, uncertainty—before she glanced away and kept walking.

And for the first time that evening, Erin felt a glimmer of hope.

Because even though Stan had coldly rebuffed her, she’d accomplished her mission.

She’d forced his hand.