Blind: Killer Instincts Read Free Page B

him.
    He wanted to peel back the layers, find out who she really was. What her secret for not allowing TBK to get to her was. Maybe he could learn a thing or two from her.
    “You didn’t mind so much earlier. You don’t share personal information until the second date?” Wait, what? His mouth was getting away from him. But he did want to see her again, even if it was the worst idea he’d ever had. As soon as she knew he was a cop, she’d run from him. Of that he was certain.
    She sputtered, caught off guard.
    “I mean, I figure since I’m buying you dinner and it’s just the two of us—this is kind of a date.” That was stretching the truth, but would it be so bad to see her again? He wasn’t breaking any rules.
    “But you forgot our third wheel.” She nodded toward the box.
    “It’s a dead guy and paper. I refuse to think that he counts as much as I do. I mean, I’m alive and breathing—and paying for dinner.” And she had been staring at him earlier as if she’d rather eat him than the chopped brisket sandwich she’d ordered.
    “Yeah, not first date material, sorry.” Her mouth curled up in that damn smile that made him want to pry her open, figure out what she was thinking. He was good at reading people, but right now he couldn’t get anything from her.
    He sighed and balled up his napkin. Fuck it. He wanted to see her again. “Damn, do I get to practice for this next date now?”
    “Hm, maybe.” She glanced up at the ceiling, as if she were thinking.
    “For our real first date, what would you like to do?” She didn’t strike him as the dinner and a movie kind of girl. Emma was a woman who did things.
    “You assume I’d go out with you.” She jabbed a fry at him.
    He reached out and grabbed her wrist, holding it while he leaned across the table and took the morsel of food from her fingers with his mouth. She stared at him, her eyes growing wider the closer he got. His lips touched her fingers as he bit the fry off and she sucked in a breath. Oh yeah, she wanted him, she was just playing hard to get.
    He leaned his elbow on the table and gentled his grasp on her wrist. Emma glanced around, her cheeks growing pink. Good. She was making him fucking crazy eating a damn sandwich. He’d rather lay her out and make a meal of her.
    She seemed to pull herself together a bit and leveled a glare at him.
    “You’re so sure of yourself.” She tugged against his hand, but he didn’t release his grip on her.
    “Not really, but when you see something you like, you don’t let it get away.” That sounded either smooth or creepy. He couldn’t quite decide which, but romance wasn’t exactly his strong suit.
    She bit her lip and nodded toward the menu. “When I was a teenager, my brother Travis got a dirt bike. His momma wouldn’t let him keep it, so I got it by default. I started racing in high school against the boys because there wasn’t a division for girls, and I kind of kicked their asses.”
    God, that little southern twang when she spoke did something to him. And she had a mouth on her that would make his mother blush. Most women needed a toned down version of him. He had to watch what he said, keep a tight control on his anger, and never talk work. Emma wasn’t like that. He felt more like himself than he had with another human being in ages.
    His smile widened. “I’d like to see that sometime. You still race?”
    “As often as I can. Fuck. I love it.” She brushed the crumbs from her sandwich off her fingers. “Are you from the FBI or something?”
    Jacob’s eyes widened and he swallowed his bite of food hurriedly. Damn. She was more perceptive than he’d expected, too. She might be more than a tad bit country, but that didn’t mean she was easily fooled. “No. Why would you say that?”
    “I’ve been trying to figure you out since you sat down. You aren’t like the intellectuals or the creepadoodles that usually want to see this shit. You’re younger, hot, fairly normal,