“This is my friend Sabrina. She’s the one I sent your photo to. The one with a thing for uniforms.”

She leaves the frame in my hand and returns to her bedroom. She sits on the end of the bed and kicks a leg up to buckle on sandals. Long, fluid skirts flatter her svelte form.

“If you’d like to meet her, I can set that up.”

The photograph is of Alex and a blonde girl. The angle of the photograph offers a nice view of cleavage. The top of the other girl’s head reaches Alex’s shoulder, and judging from the way her shoulders cave in, I’d bet Alex is crouching for the photo. The curvy blonde is objectively attractive and has a nice set of tits, but Alex steals the show with her angular features, dark hair, long lashes, and thick eyebrows. I set the frame down on the table.

“Are you trying to play matchmaker?”

Alex’s face is hidden behind her knee. I asked Alex to dinner, and she shot me down. It’s not a big deal, as I don’t do relationships. But I’m certainly not going to pretend to be interested in one of Alex’s friends.

“She’s really great. Everyone loves her.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?” Shoes fastened, she scoots off the bed.

“I’d rather take you to dinner.” She studies me. I’m not sure what she’s looking for, but I stare right back.

Our gazes deadlock. I will not back down. I’m not asking anything that isn’t appropriate. Jack confirmed nothing is going on between the two of them. Her eyes flit to the frame.

“Me?” Disbelief colors the singular notion.

“Yes. You.” I’d like to do a lot more than take her out to dinner.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She leans back against the doorframe. One arm crosses her stomach, one hand goes to her mouth, and her teeth scrape her thumbnail.

“Dinner isn’t a good idea?” She’s out of her mind. The sexual chemistry between us practically crackles, so intense her little dog glances back and forth between the two of us, as if questioning which one of us will lead the pack.

“I mean, it’s just that, you know.”

“No, Alex. I don’t know.”

“What would other people think?”

“What other people?”

“I mean, within Arrow. Or the FBI guy we’re about to meet.”

“I don’t believe he’ll question us about our dinner plans.” She rolls her eyes and drops her hand from her mouth, where it lands on the curve of her hip. “You know what I mean.”

Growing tired of this game, I stand and scoot the chair back under the table.

“Alex, I can assure you I wouldn’t feel it necessary to tell anyone working on this case if you and I decided to have dinner. As a matter of fact, if you wanted to keep things between us private…” I let the word hang for a beat for maximum effect. Her tongue flicks over her lower lip. “I wouldn’t have an issue with that.”