Neal had tried to keep well out of Agent Edgerton's way, but it came down to the problem of the immovable object and the unstoppable force. In the end, Edgerton had one major unfair advantage over Neal: the lack of an anklet, and being on FBI territory. Okay, he had two unfair advantages over Neal: the lack of an anklet, and-
"I'm not trying to hunt you down, Caffrey-Halden-Fairweather-Cassidy," Edgerton said amiably.
It was hard to take it at face value with the man's unsettling grin towering over him.
"Please, just call me Neal," Neal said, unleashing the full wattage of one of his charming-but-demure smiles.
Edgerton huffed an amused laugh.
"You're not my type," he said, raising his eyebrows to complete the smirk. From any other man Neal would have taken it for some kind of reverse flirting. Negative flirting? "I don't specialize in city boys. I just wanted to meet the legend."
Neal gulped in what he hoped was a discreet, inconspicuous manner.
"You're a bit of a legend yourself."
"Am I?" Edgerton's smile took on an edge, fine and barely detectable. Like a razor blade that could cut before you could feel it.
"Not among my... peers," Neal clarified uneasily.
"Good." Edgerton leaned in, brushing some invisible speck of dust from Neal's impeccable suit, and patting his lapel in an intentionally patronizing gesture. "Burke hates it when he loses a bet, and I bet him I could track you down faster than he could."
This was half-murmured, half-whispered in Neal's ear, and Neal's mouth got very dry, very suddenly. He had to do something about his addiction to danger, he thought dizzily.
A few steps later, Edgerton waved him goodbye from the door of the office. Between his long, steady sniper's fingers he held the card that Neal had swiped off their CalSci consultant earlier, presumably unnoticed.
Neal definitely didn't find this admirable, and his mouth certainly didn't get any drier. He really had to do something about his attraction to dangerous men and women.