They sat side-by-side on a bench near the first turn on the running track. Emily had waved Mark off to the side, partly because she knew Adams wanted a moment alone and partly because Adams had earned it.
But also, the intensity of Mark’s gaze had moved from his typical healthy, lustful leer toward ravenous. He’d applauded harder than anyone when Adams had bowed to her. He’d slapped his painted-over Night Stalker’s tattoo and shot her a thumbs-up, making her blush.
And she needed him at a distance because the fight had wound her up as well. With the way her body felt, if they weren’t in the middle of Secret Service headquarters, she’d throw him down on the wrestling mat and taken all he could give and more. Regulations and missions be damned. She needed a cold shower, with ice in it.
Bu
