“But that kiss. I don’t know if you want me analyzing that. Do you?”

He grimaced. The tough guy couldn’t stand the metaphoric heat. But then again, maybe she didn’t want to think about it either. Because when she did, she longed to taste his perfect lips again, though she was well aware of why he kissed her. He might not call it stress, but it was a reaction based entirely on their day of bullets and bruises.

“So, Winters, what’s the deal with you anyway? Who does Mister Save-The-Day Hero work for?”

He concentrated on driving and strummed his fingers across the steering wheel. His hands were rough, fingertips calloused, but they reminded her of the careful touch at the motel when he offered her a bag of ice. She jumped when he had caressed her cheek, both panic and anticipation coursed through her. It was an immediate assault to her senses. He stayed on her skin, and she…liked it.

“Should I revise and add avoidant to my assessment?” Mia struggled to keep the smile to herself.

“I’m not avoiding anything. But it’s not something I normally share. That’s all.”

“I’m supposed to trust you. And you haven’t shared a single thing.” Other than that kiss.

“All right, already. I was a SEAL. My last deployment was Afghanistan.” Winters’s jaw set hard, ending the conversation.

That wasn’t going to happen. She had questions. She needed to know something more about him. She needed to keep the conversation going. Otherwise, her mind had its own agenda.

“Bet you saw brutal stuff over there.”

“Yeah. Guess you could say that.” He shifted again and ran his hand across his face.

“So what did you do overseas?”

“Strategic and operational targets.”

“Vague. A little predictable, too, I suppose.”

“Oh yeah?” His eyes flashed to hers. He cocked his head, placed one fingertip on her knee, and snaked it up her thigh as fast as ice melted on a chilly day. He stopped at the junction between her legs. “I’ve been predictable?”

There wasn’t enough oxygen getting to her lungs. She had no idea what to do, so she changed subjects with the smoothness of sandpaper, ignoring the blooming heat near his fingers. “Who do you work for now?”

He gave a hushed chuckle, drummed his fingers on her leg, and pulled his hand away. “What’s it to you?”

“You’re so testy.” She mocked him. Childish, yes. She knew better but couldn’t help it.

He cracked the knuckles on the same hand that left fire blazing on her thigh. An unbearable need to take that hand back screamed within her. Mia closed her eyes, sucked in a breath, and sent off a prayer for strength. No fortifying breath helped right now. She needed a brick wall in between them.

“Titan Group,” he said. “I work for a tactical operations firm named Titan Group. We’re just a bunch of ex-military and former agents dickin’ around, taking on the world.” He chuckled. “Normally, I wear a cape, but it was at the dry cleaners today.”