Pulling open the trapdoor, she glanced down. Clay had left on a light, but she couldn't see him from where she was. She made her way down on silent feet. Once she reached the bottom, she scanned the room. There were a couple of cushions on the other side, below the window, but the room was otherwise empty. She realized Clay must have bunked downstairs. She frowned. The cushions on the first level were huge but he was a big man. It couldn't be comfortable sleeping on those. Maybe he had a collapsible mattress.
Her curiosity almost made her open the second trapdoor but she stopped herself. Turning up the light from soft to super-bright, she headed to the kitchen alcove and began to search for the ingredients. She found milk and sugar but no chocolate.
"Idiot," she muttered under her breath. Clay had never liked sweets. For his eleventh birthday, Isla had given him a box of knockoff Godiva chocolates. He'd given the whole lot to Talin. She'd made herself sick gorging on them. And loved every minute of it.
She stared at the milk, thinking about simply having a warm glass of it. But she wanted hot chocolate! Tears pricked her eyes. Stupid. Stupid. But the emotional reaction kept gaining speed. She was in a house she didn't know, with a Clay who was almost all stranger, someone had crushed her cherished photographs and splashed blood on her walls, and her kids were dying. All she'd wanted was a moment's respite.
Something moved below, snapping her out of her bout of self-pity.
She rubbed at her eyes and waited, back against the counter, as Clay climbed up. His hair was tousled and he didn't look in a particularly good temper. He'd pulled on his jeans before heading up, but the top buttons were undone, the denim perched perilously low on his hips. That was another confusing thing - this sudden sexual attraction to Clay.
Intellectually, she could understand it. He was a prime example of beautiful male. Women probably begged to be allowed to crawl all over him. Add in that brooding sexuality and it was no wonder her body reacted. But...this was Clay. Her friend. Well, when he wasn't furious with her. She fisted her hands, dreadfully aware that if he yelled at her right now, she might just burst into tears. "Sorry if I woke you."
He thrust a hand through his hair and yawned, the act full of a lazy feline grace that held her spellbound. "You walk like a cat. I was already awake."
"Oh." She bit her lower lip when it threatened to tremble. "You don't have any chocolate."
"Christ, you never grew out of that sweet tooth?"
She shook her head, still feeling a little fragile.
He closed the distance between them with three long strides. "Move."
Eyes wide, she shifted to the side as he leaned up and opened a high cupboard she hadn't been able to reach. Her eye fell on his right biceps, on the tattoo there - three slashing lines, they reminded her of the markings on Lucas Hunter's face. "When did you get inked?"
A grunt was his only response. Curious, she peered at his back to check out the tattoo she'd glimpsed earlier. There it was, on the back of his left shoulder, an exquisitely detailed leopard curled up in sleep. Animal and human in one, she thought, understanding his need to acknowledge the leopard as he had never been allowed to do as a child. "I like the cat," she said, watching him close the first cupboard and open the one beside it. "Who did it?"
"A guy I knew from juvie - turned into a hotshot artist," he muttered. "Where the hell did I put it?"
Hopes rising, she stood on tiptoe beside him, trying to peek inside. "Chocolate?"
He reached deep into the space. "Chocolate." Pulling out his hand, he put a bar of luscious dark chocolate in her palm.
She could've kissed him, growly face and all. "Do you like chocolate now?"
"Hell, no. I can't stand the stuff." He closed the cupboard and leaned his hip against the counter. "Sascha, however, has a love affair with it. She gave it to me." He sounded puzzled.
"Maybe because she likes you?" Talin suggested, setting the milk to warm on the small heating unit she guessed was powered by an eco-generator. Everything in Clay's house seemed to have been designed with the forest's delicate ecology in mind. "She wanted to make you happy and probably figured that everyone likes chocolate."
"I guess." He yawned again but didn't move from where he stood only two feet from her, all dark masculine beauty. "You do this a lot?"
"Most every night," she admitted. "I don't sleep much."
"I'll need to get more chocolate, then."
"No." She looked up from peeling open the bar. "I can't stay here."
His eyes gleamed. "Why not? Afraid I'll bite you?"
"You already did," she reminded him with a scowl.
"You survived." He sounded very much like a cat at that moment.
"You know why I can't stay. We keep setting each other off. It's not exactly a peaceful environment."
"When did you get so hung up on peace?" He nodded at the milk. "Put in the chocolate."
"What? Oh." She broke off several chunks and dropped them in. "This kind makes good hot chocolate. Some of the others end up tasting weird."