Series: The Burying Water #2
Published on March 3, 2015 Genres: New Adult, Romantic Suspense
About BECOMING RAIN:
Luke Boone doesn’t know exactly what his uncle Rust is involved in but he wants in on it—the cars, the money, the women. And it looks like he’s finally getting his wish. When Rust hands him the managerial keys to the garage, they come with a second set—one that opens up the door to tons of cash and opportunity. Though it’s not exactly legal, Luke’s never been one to worry about that sort of thing. Especially when it puts him behind the wheel of a Porsche 911 and onto the radar of gorgeous socialite named Rain.
Clara Bertelli is at the top of her game—at only twenty-six years old, she’s one of the most successful undercover officers in the Washington, DC, major crime unit, and she’s just been handed a case that could catapult her career and expose one of the West coast’s most notorious car theft rings. But, in order to do it, she’ll need to go deep undercover as Rain Martines. Her target? The twenty-four-year-old nephew of a key player who appears ready to follow in his uncle’s footsteps.
As Clara drifts deeper into the luxurious lifestyle of Rain, and further into the arms of her very attractive and charming target, the lines between right and wrong start to blur, making her wonder if she’ll be able to leave it all behind. Or if she’ll even want to.
“Let us know if you have any more problems.” Luke flashes that wide, charming smile that stalls my feet just a little.
Still no mention of connecting again. In fact, I’d say Luke has gone out of his way to skirt the subject. He’s just not interested. That’s all there is to it. Or maybe he’s waiting for me to bring it up again. But if he’s not, then bringing it up will make me look desperate. I’m guessing he doesn’t like desperate women.
Luke Boone has me in a tailspin. No target has ever had me second-guessing myself this much, this early. It’s just the pressure of the case, I remind myself. “I’m sure I will.” I take long, slow steps, ensuring my movements are sleek and appealing, the opposite of my frantic thoughts, as I desperately search for another hook, since nothing I’m casting has caught so far.
“So, when did you say you’re cooking dinner for me?”
I fight the urge to groan with relief but I can’t keep the smile from exploding across my face. “Whenever you call me.” I turn to regard him, to see his smug face—like he knew I was waiting for it all along, like he was toying with me—and nod to the sheet on his desk. “You have my number.”
“I do.” His eyes twinkle. “I’ll call you soon.”
Thank fucking God.
I wait until I’m in my car and around the corner before turning off my wire and squealing like a fourteen-year-old who just got asked out to the movies. I dial Warner to debrief, my heart still racing. It’s standard protocol to call in after every meeting with my target. Up until now, I’ve had nothing but failure to report. And, while this may not seem like much . . .
I think I’m finally in.