Free Red. (Den of Mercenaries #1) by London Miller

like any businessman she had ever seen—and though he had the muscle, he didn’t look like a gym trainer either.
    “Journalist?”
    That, at least, got a laugh out of him. “Really? What makes you think that?”
    “I’d guess, through this entire conversation, you’ve learned more about me than I’ve learned about you. I’d imagine a journalist was good at that.” After a moment though, Reagan shook her head. “On the other hand, you don’t really seem to have the attitude for it. You have that whole…brooding thing going on.”
    Cutting into his steak, he looked to her with a raised brow. “That sounds like an insult.”
    “Not at all.”
    It worked for him, more than it did for anyone else. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, as though he didn’t care about anything or anyone, or just the way he spoke that made her crave to know more about him.
    If anything, it was more of a compliment.
    “If I told you what I did, you wouldn’t believe me.”
    Intrigued, Reagan rested her elbows on the table, leaning towards him. “Oh? Try me.”
    “Sanitation.”
    “Seriously?”
    He shrugged a shoulder, finishing his bite of steak. “Someone has to do it.”
    “You don’t smell like a garbage guy.” She imagined that even with multiple showers, there would still be that trace of foul odor attached to them.
    “And what do I smell like?”
    Nice. He smelled nice—more than a little nice if she was being honest. Clean, almost woodsy, with a darker undertone that she couldn’t make out. Overall, his scent made her want to stay exactly where she was so she could indulge in it.
    But to answer his question, she merely shook her head with a slight smile. There was no way she’d be able to answer that without blushing.
    “Reagan?”
    Both she and Niklaus looked in the direction of her boss who was peeking through the little window at them, waving her over with his spatula.
    “Looks like I have to get back to work,” she said standing, smoothing a hand over the front of her uniform, trying to pretend like she didn’t notice the way his eyes followed the movement. “It was nice talking to you, Niklaus.”
    This time, he offered her a smile, one that made her legs feel like jelly. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
    She hoped so.
    God, how she hoped so.

Chapter Eleven
    A nd there he was again .
    It was only the third time he had frequented the diner in the late hours of the night, but each time he came in, Reagan’s heart raced a little bit faster. She had thought maybe she had mistaken his interest that first night and had wanted to put him out of her mind. When he had come in the next day they were unusually busy. There was an open seat on the other side of the diner, but he still chose to wait until there was a vacancy at his table before he sat.
    No, there was no mistaking that.
    And then there was the way he studied her, how his eyes lingered when she was close. She could practically feel his gaze on her when she was at another table. She felt almost giddy at the knowledge that she had his interest, even if for a short while.
    But that was yesterday, which almost felt like a lifetime ago as she had been counting down the hours until she came back to work and maybe, hopefully, would see him again.
    He was dressed in his usual ensemble of dark clothing, his leather jacket abandoned on the seat beside him. Was it premature, her thinking she knew him? They hadn’t spoken all that much, but what little conversation they had had felt strangely intimate, like there was more than passing curiosity.
    As soon as he was seated, Reagan headed over, refusing to pretend like she hadn’t noticed his presence the minute he had pushed through those doors. On the way, she grabbed a mug and a pot, already knowing that he would order a cup.
    He seemed to be a creature of habit.
    The minute she started in his direction, Niklaus’ eyes lifted, drifting over her as they did every time, as though her appearance might