Chapter 12

“Today isn’t my birthday, Mann. There must be some mistake. Not that I’m surprised. Does the CIA ever get anything right?”

He was watching me through his lashes, his expression hooded. “Isn’t it?” His tongue flicked out to catch a drop of wine that lingered on his lips, and I had to call on all my WBIS training not to moan. His mouth was solemn, but there was a wicked glint in his eyes. “My mistake.”

I pulled my attention away from that mouth of his, realizing that I was losing control again. What the fuck was wrong with me? I never lost control, and now twice in one evening….

To distract myself, I speared a roasted pepper from the platter between us and placed it on my plate, slicing it neatly.

Quinn made inroads on the artichoke hearts, but that was okay. I didn’t like the spiny little hairs that were somehow always left behind and got caught under my tongue; I felt like a cat trying to hack up a hairball.