If anyone could pull off coattails and gloves it would be Clint. Phil could find him attractive in just about anything he wore. It's a curse of being in love with the man.

Phil leans in close so that Clint won't miss a single word of what he says next nor the way he practically growls it. "I cannot be held responsible for my actions when we're alone and you're in that vest, agent."

The trim line of Clint's waist will pleasantly haunt Phil's memories for years and years to come. If he wore that and rolled up his sleeves? Phil would have to drag him to the nearest closet and ruin him.

He drew back and settled comfortably back into his unflappable agent role.