by standing there. It made him feel uncomfortably exposed, vulnerable.
Edgy.
“It smarts … a little.” She shrugged her oh-so-elegant shoulders, a gesture of such profound, unfolding grace he felt an echoing ache in his chest.
He was so screwed.
“But I’m okay,” she said.
Yeah, sure, him, too.
“Good.” It took a lot to get the word out, and in the ensuing silence of his failure to voice another one, she cast her gaze downward—which pretty much fascinated the hell out of him. Like she needed any more help in that department.
They were probably both in over their heads.
“Look at me,” he said, and, after a slight hesitation, she complied, tilting her chin up.
This was the time to tell her he needed to go after that guy, whoever he was. To tell her the ghostly tracker wouldn’t get by him—and the bastard wouldn’t, no matter what kind of laboratory had made him. To tell her she was safe in this house, and that he’d be back.
But, God, she was exquisite.
Abso-fucking-lutely irresistible.
He knew better, but “better” didn’t seem to matter, not in the heated shadows of this hallway with her hands practically in his pants, still holding on to him so tightly.
Geezus, baby, do you know? He lifted his hand and slid the tips of his fingers across her cheek, feeling the softness of her skin, watching her eyes darken to an even more verdant shade of green. Do you know what you’re doing to me?
He’d be crazy to get involved with her. With half a chance, he could still make a break for it.
But she didn’t give him half a chance. Without another move, without so much as the blink of an eye or a twitch of a smile, between one breath and the next, she captured him completely.
There was no help for it and no escape.
None.
She was the Wild Thing, everything he remembered and something he hadn’t known for a long time. The lush, alluring scent of her awareness filled his senses, all of it female. Every fiber of her being was alert to their closeness. She fairly vibrated with it, and it was turning him inside out with longing.
“I’m not the man you knew.” No matter what happened here tonight, he couldn’t afford to be anything less than honest with her.
“No,” she said. “No, you’re not.” Her voice was soft, barely audible, but her gaze was direct, and the temperature of her skin subtly rose with a blush, a more telling confession than the words themselves.
“I don’t know how much time I have, maybe only weeks, maybe months.” More brutal honesty. He really didn’t think he would live out the year, not the way things had been going for him lately.
Distress flattened her expression, but her gaze stayed locked onto him.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “I understand.”
He doubted it. Hell, he didn’t understand it himself, how he could be so strong one minute and crash the next. Souk had been such a sick bastard. In the hands of a humanitarian, of a doctor who cared, Souk’s research could have changed the world. He could have helped people and saved lives.
Instead, along had come another crazy sick bastard working somewhere out of Thailand, jacking warriors up for profit and unleashing a monster on the earth.
Lancaster had a lot to answer for.
“Six years in the wasteland,” he said, gently rubbing his thumb across the soft fullness of her lower lip. “And then there you are, walking down Wazee Street, turning my world inside out, and things start coming back to me.”
Maybe this was it, he thought, maybe he was dying and this thing with her was his whole-life-flashing-before-his-eyes setup, except his “flash” was going in slow motion, one memory at a time, starting with Corinna and Hawkins, and Kid, and Denver, memories of 738 Steele Street and this house on the west side, and especially of her, Jane Linden, Robin Rulz.
His recollections of her were so clear, but sex had a way of focusing a guy’s mind like a laser beam—and his feelings for her were very sexual.
“So,” he said, “this guy you had the date with tonight …”
“Wouldn’t have gotten me into half the trouble you did.”
Sweet thing, she said it with a straight face, as if there might actually be somebody out there who could have gotten her into even more trouble.
He doubted it.
“An accountant?” he guessed.
“Cop.”
Geezus. He couldn’t help himself, he grinned.
“Yeah,” she said, a small grin lifting a corner of her mouth, as well. “I know.”