The afternoon had been too quiet, way too full of time to wish like hell that something would break in this case. But nothing yet. Bailey’s house hadn’t turned up any unfamiliar prints. The sketch hadn’t been released so far. Sean had offered to see if anyone could get a pinpoint on LOSS’s location and recent activities. The investigative standstill skewered Joaquin’s nerves. Then there was Bailey herself. He’d brought her lunch, his stomach twisting with nerves. He’d fought criminals, tangled with a hurricane, and hunted terrorists for almost a decade. Why should a woman who barely came up to his shoulders turn him inside out? Because he’d put the ball in her court and swore he wouldn’t touch her until she asked him to. That didn’t stop desire from clawing his insides. And if she never asked him? Joaquin didn’t want to imagine never feeling her delicate body against him, their hearts pounding together as he claimed her lips and— Not a helpful train of thought.
