LITMIR.BIZ

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      “How do you even know about the Langley bus stop?”

      “I have friends in high places.”

      She rolled her eyes. “Obviously not if you’re dogging a lowly translator.”

      “I mean it.” He grabbed her hands. “I want to see those emails. I know Denver. I’d be able to detect any falsehoods in those messages. I mean it’s all false, but I might be able to see something in the emails, some clue.”

      An edge of desperation had entered his voice, and the easygoing frat boy had morphed into this earnest man with the serious blue eyes, desperate to clear his commanding officer’s name.

      Despite herself, she felt a twinge of pity and then steeled herself against the emotion. Her father had always employed the same tone when trying to wheedle compassion from her.

      She blinked as Cam tugged on a lock of her hair. “C’mon, Martha. I saved you from an oncoming train. If you don’t want me in your personal space, you can bring your computer out to someplace neutral, if you have a laptop.”

      She inhaled the fresh, outdoorsy scent coming off him and counted the freckles on his nose. Cam already was in her personal space, and she didn’t mind one bit.

      “All right. I’ll take you back to my town house.”

      Cam waved at the waitress for the bill, and as soon as she plucked it from her apron, he snatched it from her fingers. “I’ll get this.”

      Martha didn’t even hesitate as she pulled a five and a ten from her wallet and flicked them onto the table. “That’s too much like paying for information. I’ll get my own wine.”

      Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Cam raising his eyebrows at her, but she ignored him and stashed her wallet back in her purse. “Is it all there?”

      “Yes, ma’am.” He tucked his bills and hers beneath the candle on the table, along with the check. “Walking distance?”

      “You know my address.” She folded her arms, regretting her decision already.

      “I know your address, not the area, but I figured you were close if you got off at the Metro stop.” He pushed back from his chair and stepped to the side to let her go first.

      As she shuffled past him, she noted his height again. At five foot ten, she hit eye level with most men, but her nose practically brushed the chin of this one.

      When they reached the sidewalk, Cam hunched into his jacket and flipped up the collar against the wind. “It’s not gonna snow, is it?”

      “I hope not.” She peered at the light gray sky and pulled on her gloves. “That would be pretty unusual for November.”

      They walked along the busy Georgetown sidewalk, occasionally bumping shoulders, which oddly reassured her, although she couldn’t figure out why. Cam had the type of solid build that screamed strength and fitness. Physically, he could have his way with anyone, even a tall woman like her.

      She hunched her shoulders and stuffed an errant strand of hair back under her hat. Dream on, Martha. Cam was the type of guy who’d wheedled homework assignments out of her. Just like in college, she had something he wanted—just not her body.

      She stopped in front of the town house she owned but shared with a roommate, and grabbed the iron handrail. “I’m right here.”

      “Door right onto the street.”

      “Yeah? So what?” She fished her key from the side pocket of her purse, and for the first time in a while hoped her roommate, Casey, was on the other side of that door.

      “Not that safe.”

      “If you haven’t noticed, this is a nice area.”

      He looked up and down the street. “Lots of foot traffic though.”

      She looked up from turning the key in the lock. “I’m a very careful person.”

      “And yet, here I am.”

      She opened the door and blocked it with her body. “Are you telling me not to trust you? Because I can change my mind right here and now.”

      Casey yelled from the inside. “Close the door. You’re letting in the cold air.”

      “My roommate. Protection.” Martha jerked her thumb over her shoulder.

      “Good thinking.” He rubbed his gloved hands together. “Now can we go in? It is cold out here.”

      Martha pushed into the room, and Cam followed on her heels.

      “I was just on my way...” Casey tripped to a stop in her high heels when she swung around and almost collided with Cam. “Well, hello there.”

      “Hey, what’s up?”

      “Casey, Cam. Cam, Casey, my roommate.”

      Casey stuck out her hand and wiggled her fingers, her long painted nails catching the light and glinting like she was casting a spell. “Nice to meet you. You’re the first guy Martha’s ever brought home.”

      The heat washed up Martha’s face, and she ground her teeth together. “It’s not like that. He’s not a guy.”

      Casey fluttered her long—fake—eyelashes as she gave Cam the once-over. “You could’ve fooled me.”

      “I think what Martha means—” he hooked his arm around Martha’s neck in a total buddy move and pulled her close “—is we’re just friends.”

      “Of course you are.” Casey turned toward the kitchen, giving Cam a view of her derriere in her tight dress. “Do you want a beer?”

      “I thought you were going out?” Martha ducked out of Cam’s hold and shed her coat.

      “Just showing a little hospitality.”

      “Don’t worry about it. He’s my guest. I can get him a beer if he wants one.”

      “I’m good.” Cam held out one hand as if refereeing an MMA fight. “We don’t want to hold you up, Casey. Nice meeting you.”

      Her roommate’s pretty face fell, and Martha couldn’t help the little spark of satisfaction that flared in her belly. “Have fun, Casey.”

      “Nice meeting you, Cam.” She swept up her coat from the back of a chair. “Hope to see you again sometime.”

      The door slammed behind Casey in a gust of perfume and hairspray.

      Cam cocked an eyebrow at her. “Not a good friend, I take it?”

      “Not a friend at all, and she’s a horrible roommate—messy, noisy, brings guys back here all the time.”

      “And you mean guys.”

      “Yeah. She’s a real pain.”

      “Move.”

      “It’s my place.”

      Cam’s gaze flicked around the town house, still sporting the expensive furnishings Mom had favored and she couldn’t afford to replace. “Government’s paying some solid wages.”

      “Anyway, I can’t just move.” She had no intention of getting into her personal finances—or her notorious background—with Cam.

      “Kick her out.”

      “She signed a lease.”

      “How long?”

      “Four more months. I think she’s gearing up to move out anyway.”

      “I’m sure you’re counting the days.” He clapped his hands once and she jumped. “The emails?”

      “Do you want a beer? Or something else?”

      “Just some water.”

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