“Of course, Pavel. But what about you? Is there anything I can do for you?”
The slightest hint of red bloomed over the bridge of his nose. “Watching out for my little boy is a request for me.”
“But you also had something else in mind.”
“Behavioral analysis was my career. On top of that, your girl’s got a doctorate in clinical psych with interdisciplinary work in behavioral neuroscience. I know what you want.”
“You’re my girl?”
Embarrassment needled the skin on her face. “It’s an expression.”
He leaned toward her, his fresh-out-of-the-shower scent giving her a fervent sort of high, and trapped the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth. It then slipped from his mouth so slowly, she had to stop herself from leaning forward for a lick.
“What do I want, then?” he asked. “You used to be a profiler. Profile me.”