I can go all. Night. Long.

Offer to buy me dinner first, then I’m all yours.

I usually charge for that.

Damn, I love the tango,” he whispered, tickling her ear.

Grant glanced down at his khaki jacket. Since he’d slipped on the US Navy uniform in Agent Bounter’s office, he’d felt a confident swagger possess him. His spine lengthened, and his shoulders retracted. He should’ve...