Provocative Passion. AlTonya Washington

his eyes, unmistakable challenge enhancing her dark lovely face. “Is this about ringing up an ex-lover for another go? Ah...there it is.” She caught sight of the jaw muscle he clenched. “I was wondering if you still had that temper.” She snuggled into the sofa, intent on capturing one of the plump shrimp amid the noodles.

      “Yeah, I’ve still got the temper, Sophie. Stupidity always brings it out in me.”

      Sophia caught the shrimp and popped the morsel into her mouth. “Stupidity? Hmph, I thought I was being very perceptive.” She managed to sound cool enough when it was all she could do to chew her food as she weighed his reaction.

      When there was no reaction, she returned her flint-colored gaze to the pint of food. “Why did you call me, Tig?” she whispered.

      “I miss you. I miss you in every way.” There was no hesitation in his response.

      Sophia worked the chopsticks deeper into the box and smiled. “So this was about calling me up for another go?”

      “Is that why you answered?” he countered.

      “Of course not.” She cleared her throat on the lie.

      What else could she say, though? That she hadn’t had sex with anyone since him? That on more occasions than she cared to admit, she could only fall asleep after pleasuring herself using memories of them together for stimulus?

      She observed him covertly through the thickness of her lashes. He was a picture of ease. She’d be a fool to say he didn’t affect her. What woman wouldn’t be affected by him? His features were a perfect mesh of his biracial heritage, compliments of his African-American mother and Puerto Rican father. His eyes even carried traces of both parents. The gold flecks were a testament to his mother’s rich hazel gaze. They sparkled amid a sea of bottomless ebony, compliments of his father. The fierce perfection of his features was softened by the easy humor that lurked in his stare.

      What woman wouldn’t mind being the target of his attention? Sophia asked herself again. He’d always been able to gauge the tracks of her thoughts using little effort, and she resented him for it.

      In spite of their years together, she had never been able to get a line on his innermost thoughts. The fact that she was a cop and pretty good at getting into other people’s heads made acknowledging her failure at reading Tigo’s mind a difficult thing to admit.

      Then again, she wasn’t a cop around Santigo Rodriguez, was she? She was a woman, just a woman who craved the man who sat in her living room acting like he had no idea what he did to her.

      “Thanks for dinner, Tig.” She uncrossed her legs and scooted forward to gather empty and nearly empty containers. “It’s been a long time since I enjoyed Chinese with someone.” She returned the items to the carryout bag.

      Tigo wondered how often she enjoyed food at all. He knew that she had a tendency to forgo eating when she was in the middle of a project. Years ago, work had consisted of school. Now, it consisted of crime solving and saving lives. Yes, he had a fine idea of how often and how well she ate.

      Thankfully, the bad habit hadn’t taken a negative toll on the shapeliness of her tall, mahogany-brown frame. Every part of him roared that he was a pure idiot for denying her when she was all but handing herself to him on a platter.

      She hadn’t changed. Correction, she had changed in the most beautifully subtle ways he could imagine. She’d always been tall, but her very slender frame had acquired an alluring set of curves honed by her very active lifestyle. The bow-shaped mouth and tiny nose still gave her the doll-like appearance that clashed provocatively with the dark gray, almond-shaped eyes. His fingers literally ached to lose themselves in the loose shoulder-length curls that were as mahogany-rich as her skin.

      “I should go.” He muttered the phrase “pure idiot” below his breath as soon as he heard the words leave his tongue.

      “Yeah, you probably should.” Sophia was shoving used napkins and utensils into the bag.

      “See me out?” he asked, wondering if she’d oblige or hurl the carryout bag at his head. When she stood and turned for the door, he smiled. He wondered how well her innately polite nature fared in the midst of her daily police duties.

      Sophia had already pulled open the door and stood steeling herself against the desire to tap her bare foot.

      Santigo took his time about approaching the door. Once he’d closed whatever distance there was between them, Sophia drew on every ounce of will not to throw herself on him again.

      Tigo leaned into her, dipping his head to trail his nose across her temple, down her cheek... Cuffing her neck in his palm, he placed a lingering kiss on her earlobe.

      “See you tomorrow.”

      “Tig...” Her tone was half needy, half tortured.

      Santigo slid the kiss below her earlobe and then alongside her neck, and he felt her shudder.

      Sophia had no more words. She could only turn her face toward him, where she breathed in the cologne he wore. The subtle fragrance triggered every hormone she claimed.

      “Lock up.” He spoke the order into the hollow at her throat. He straightened, taking delight in her reaction to his touch.

      He gave her bottom a squeeze and proprietary pat; then he was gone. Sophia had just enough strength in her hand to set the locks before she had to rely on the door for support—her legs had become totally useless.

      * * *

      Linus Brooks was used to being the more wary head between his two partners. Elias was usually immovable, with the ability to make precise decisions based on the facts at hand. Santigo used his capacity for calm and easygoingness to give people enough rope to hang themselves. It was his method of separating trash from treasure.

      Linus felt he’d crafted the art of seeing folks for what they were right off the bat. Therefore, he took great enjoyment in taking the lead during meetings.

      That morning, his joy was overshadowed by Santigo’s obvious mood. Linus found himself letting the architects on one of their latest projects off the hook a bit more easily as he was anxious to discover what was up with his friend.

      “Spill it,” Linus ordered once the architects had beat a hasty path for the conference room door.

      Tigo was still gathering his thoughts when he heard his partner. He frowned, noticing Linus’s liquid brown eyes on him. “What?”

      “What’s up with the mood? I’m supposed to be the brooding one.”

      Linus’s playfully put-out tone brought an unwilling grin to Tigo’s face. After a few seconds of debate, he set the tablet and mobile on the table and then loosened the olive-green tie from his collar.

      “Saw Sophia last night.”

      Linus whistled. “Now that’s a name from the past.”

      “Yeah...” Tigo worked the bunched muscles at his neck once he’d loosened the top buttons of his shirt. “I saw her having lunch with Clarissa a while back. Soap was helping her get to the bottom of that mess with her aunt’s clubs.”

      “So next you’re calling her and then...what?” Linus reared back in the black swivel chair and crossed his feet atop the long rectangular table. “Will you be next to head off on a ‘business’ trip?” He curved his index and middle fingers to quote the word.

      Tigo chuckled, recognizing the dig at Elias’s trip with Clarissa. “We’re not there yet. Far from it.” He sighed.

      “Ah...” Linus grinned and folded his hands in his lap. “Detective Hail’s gonna make you work for it, huh?”

      “Hmm...” Tigo scratched his eyebrow and took a seat on the edge of the table. “It’s not her. I’m the one who wants to...work for it.”

      “Say what?” Linus almost laughed the words while he pulled his feet off the table and leaned