Flame sucked in her breath sharply. “I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care if you believe me. She’s married to another GhostWalker, Nicolas Trevane.” Gator raked a hand through his hair in agitation until waves spilled across his forehead. “Okay. That was a lie. I do care that you believe me. Why would I lie?”
“To get me to go back with you. I’m never going back with you, not for any reason. You’re a smart man. Do you think the government and Whitney are going to sink millions of dollars into experimental weapons and then just let them run around loose? You aren’t that stupid. You’re either up to your neck swimming in their cesspool or you’ve been brainwashed.”
“You could be wrong, you know,” Gator pointed out. “You might consider that.”
“You might consider that Lily wasn’t the only one of us with an enormous IQ. If
I’m wrong, why do we have this thing between us?” She stuck her chin in the air and fiddled with the edges of her scarf, but her gaze was steady on his, almost a challenge.
“Which thing? The knife? The bike? The baby? Or the sexual attraction that, quite frankly, might be off the Richter scale?”
“The sexual attraction. That’s what’s really making you so angry, isn’t it? You don’t trust it any more than I do. And you’re angry with me for making you feel the way you do.”
“Yeah. Maybe. But I’m not the only one royally pissed about it,” he pointed out.
“You’re right, I don’t like it. I don’t trust you. Why the hell would I feel attracted to you?”
“My charm and good looks.”
“You aren’t that charming. And you have the despicable reputation of being a hound dog. I know because I asked around and your grandmother told me.”
“No doubt to endear me further to you.”
She narrowed her gaze. “You’re a breaker of hearts. A rake and a playboy.” She made a face. “A disgusting playboy who isn’t even concerned with safety issues.”
“Grand-mere didn’t say that, did she?”
She smirked at him. “Well, you got me pregnant, didn’t you?”
A faint smile stole over his face. “I guess I did. I’m potent. Even from a distance.”
“That’s a scary thought. Do you really know Joy Chiasson?”
“Yes. You can ask Grand-mere Nonny all about her tomorrow when you show up for tea. Our families have been friends for years.”
Flame spread her hands out. “So what are we doing out here in the middle of the night?”
“We’re talking truce, cher.” His slow smile matched the warm molasses in his drawl.
“Don’t you think before we talk truce it would be a gesture of good faith to give me back my motorcycle?”
“Have you shoved my brother’s Jeep into the Mississippi yet?”
“That was on the schedule for tonight.”
“It’s my brother’s Jeep,” he reminded her, fingertips tracing the smudges on her throat. “Not mine. I just borrowed it.”
“Bad decision on his part to lend it to you.”
His eyes darkened as his gaze drifted over her throat. “I’m sorry about this, cher. I could kiss it better for you.”
She remained absolutely still beneath his touch, her heart beginning to hammer in time to the blood roaring through her veins. The heat of the bayou enveloped them in the perfume of the night and the rich rhythm of life. “You aren’t going to seduce me into cooperating with you and, if you try, the Jeep definitely goes into the Mississippi.”
“It was a bad decision on his part to lend it to me.” Gator murmured the words against her soft throat, his body pressed against hers, although he didn’t wrap his arms around her. He simply stood leaning into her, the warmth of his breath touching her skin.
She swallowed hard when his lips pressed against her throat, feather-light, velvet soft. “So you’re willing to sacrifice the Jeep.”