Explosive Attraction - By Lena Diaz Page 0,23
was searching for the bomber?”
He grunted noncommittally.
“Why didn’t you stop back there?”
When he finally looked at her, she sucked in her breath, shocked at the raw pain and bitterness stamped across his face.
“Jake was my wife’s brother. He blames me for her death.”
Chapter Six
The two double beds in Darby’s motel room boasted neon green coverlets with palm fronds and brightly colored parrots. Beach-scene prints decorated the walls. The carpet was a faded royal blue. The room screamed “cheap,” but thankfully, when Darby stepped into the tiny bathroom to take a look, it was blessedly clean. Bright white subway tiles reflected the overhead light without a hint of mildew or grime.
She stepped back into the main room. “Which room will you be in?”
The corner of his mouth tilted up. “You thought I was staying in a separate room?”
She folded her arms. “Yes, of course. It’s not like we’re...you know...courting.”
“‘Courting’?” His grin widened. “Do people really say that in this century?”
She narrowed her eyes at him.
His smile faded, and in four long strides he was standing in front of her, his usual serious expression firmly in place. “I can’t protect you from another room. Like it or not, we’re stuck together until the bomber is caught.”
The thought of him sleeping in a bed a few feet away had her belly tightening. A memory flashed through her mind...his hard lips molding to hers, his warm hand caressing her bottom as he pulled her close, his body hardening against her. Her breath caught in her throat.
He cocked his head, studying her. “The psychiatrist said you didn’t remember what happened when you were in the trance. Is it starting to come back?”
Come back? She’d never forgotten. She’d been frozen, unable to move or respond, but she’d been aware of everything around her. And she hadn’t forgotten. She’d just been too embarrassed to admit it.
She remembered everything.
He took a step toward her, then another. “In the ceiling, when we heard the gunman below us, you whimpered. I had to kiss you, to silence you. And then I—”
“Stop,” she whispered.
He gently lifted her chin. “You do remember.”
“I don’t... I don’t want to...” She licked her lips, her gaze falling to his mouth. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
His hands moved to her shoulders. He braced his legs on each side of her, surrounding her with his heat. “When I...touched you...”
She leaned toward him. “Yes?”
His thumbs traced small patterns on her shoulders, making her shiver with longing.
“I need you to understand,” he said, his voice rough, raspy. He cleared his throat. “I was only trying to shock you into moving. You realize that, right? I was trying to protect you. I wasn’t...” He rested his forehead against hers.
Darby slid her hands up his chest. “You weren’t...what?” she whispered.
He shuddered and took a step back, then another. “I wasn’t trying to take advantage. I apologize.”
Darby blinked. Rafe stood two feet in front of her, looking chagrined. What had just happened? He’d caressed her shoulders. His voice had thickened when he spoke to her.
Had she imagined that?
Apparently she had. But she certainly hadn’t imagined her own reaction. She’d wanted, needed, to touch him, and had desperately wanted him to touch her in return. She twisted her fingers together. She wasn’t thinking clearly. Lack of sleep had muddled her mind. She had actually convinced herself that Detective Rafe Morgan, a man who’d never made any pretense at even liking her, was attracted to her—and that she was attracted to him.
How humiliating.
If the floor had opened up beneath her right now she would have gladly jumped in the hole.
No matter how tight and dark it was.
“No problem.” She struggled to sound nonchalant. “I understand you were just trying to protect me. And of course it makes sense for you to stay in this room with me. After all, you are my babysitter.”
He frowned and looked as though he wanted to argue, but she grabbed her suitcase and swept past him.
“I’m going to take a shower.”
* * *
AFTER SPENDING ALL DAY and all night cooped up in the motel room, Darby was more than ready to go somewhere else, anywhere else. Still, the police station wouldn’t have been her first choice. But Rafe wanted her to meet with the sketch artist this morning.
The sprawling complex off U.S. 1 that housed the police department was almost a second home for Darby. She’d been in the driver’s license office next door a couple of times. She’d been at the courthouse as an expert witness