Page 64 of The Unlikely Spare

“By all means.” I gesture for him to lead the way. “Though I must say, being your target has its appeal.”

His stride falters. I count it as another small victory.

But then a flash of genuine irritation crosses his face. “This is inappropriate.”

“Undoubtedly,” I agree cheerfully. “Most enjoyable things are.”

The path branches ahead of us, a smaller trail winding away from the main route. I veer toward it without hesitation.

“That area hasn’t been secured,” O’Connell says sharply.

I glance back at him. “Then you’d better keep up, hadn’t you?”

I don’t wait for his response, already several steps ahead on the narrower path. The lights here are closer together. The sounds of the gala are completely gone now, leaving only the whisper of our footsteps on the sandy ground.

O’Connell catches up quickly, his longer stride easily matching mine. When he reaches me, he grips my arm firmly, pulling me to a stop.

“You can’t just wander off the secured route because you feel like it.” His voice is low with restrained anger.

Something honeyed and slow unfurls in my stomach. His fingers are warm through the fabric of my jacket, the pressure just shy of uncomfortable. Rather than pull away, I turn to face him fully.

“And yet, here we are. Just the two of us, off the beaten path.”

His grip tightens fractionally before he releases me, stepping back. “We need to return to the main pathway.”

“Why? Afraid of what might happen if we don’t?” I move closer, eliminating the distance he just created.

The colored lights shift around us, bathing us alternately in crimson, violet, and blue. Each new hue reveals another facet of his expression. There’s frustration, desire, and something deeper that makes my heart rate quicken.

“What the fuck are you doing?” His voice comes out in a low growl, all pretense of professionalism seemingly abandoned.

“What do you mean?” I try to keep the triumph out of my voice, but I’m rather certain I fail spectacularly.

His expression hardens, anger overtaking the other emotions warring in his eyes. “Is this a game to you?” he demands. “Because it isn’t a game to me. I’m trying to keep you alive.”

The intensity in his voice catches me off guard. Something uncomfortable blooms in my chest, too close to real emotion for comfort.

“Well, you’re doing a splendid job of it,” I recover quickly. “I’ve never felt more alive than I do at this moment.”

“See. That’s what I’m talking about. This blatant flirting you’ve been doing all evening.” He claws a hand through his hair, blowing out a frustrated breath before continuing, “What do you want me to say? Yes, my body reacted to you the other day because I’m someone who’s attracted to men and I’m not made of ice. Having an attractive man pressed up against me for that length of time caused my body to respond, but that doesn’t mean you get to play with me for your own amusement. Not all of us have the luxury of treating life like an extended game with no actual consequences.”

My heart pounds in my ears and a flicker of heat races through me at the rough edge in his voice.

But this isn’t playing out how I imagined. His frustration should have felt like victory, but instead, it’s stirring something unexpectedly real in my chest.

“And what makes you assume my flirting is a game?” I counter. “How do you know there’s no genuine sentiment behind it?”

Bloody hell.

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize the truth hiding in my question.

Iwanthim. I want this gruff Irishman. I don’t just want him to want me for my ego. I want him to desire me the same way I desire him.

Officer O’Connell pauses for a second, his face going through a myriad of emotions before it settles on scathing. “Surely even you aren’t so entitled to think anything could ever happen between us.”

His words land like a blow to my stomach.

“I’m trying to be a professional and do my job. I would appreciate it if you’d let me,” he finishes.