Fatal Secrets - Desiree Holt Page 0,8

her. Three days made drearier by the constant rain. The unexpected stop at Red’s Bar to chase some of the frustration. The drinks. Dancing with Sean Whoever-he-was. Oh yeah. That was definitely some dancing, even with that tiny hitch in his gait.

She wondered what that was about. Was he injured in some way? Did he have scars he hadn’t wanted her to see? Was that why he hadn’t wanted the lights on in the room? What kind of an injury? And why couldn’t she just shut off her damn reporter’s brain, which was already over its allotment of questions?

She slid her glance toward him again. His eyes were closed so maybe he was still asleep. Last night had been undeniably incredible, nearly finishing her off. It was way more than she’d been prepared for, as if something invisible ignited between them. She almost never had no-holds-barred sex with someone she knew well, never mind a stranger. It shocked her that it happened last night.

Sean either had a lot of experience or a great imagination. The sex was hot and intense, exploring some of the darker fantasies she’d kept hidden for so long. Was he as affected by it as she was? She could still hardly believe all the things they’d done. No wonder he looked exhausted. She was sure she looked the same.

She slid a glance at him, lying with one arm thrown back over his head. He’d apparently had a battle with the sheet, because it was only partially draped over his body. As her eyes adjusted to the gray light of the fading darkness, she saw an angry red scar that went from the top of his left thigh at an angle to the side of his knee. Another one that looked as if he had acquired it about the same time angled from beneath his left nipple almost to his pelvic bone.

Damn!

What the hell did this guy do for a living, anyway, to acquire scars like that?

Oh, wait! There. On his hip. She made out the tattoo of a trident, and something clicked in her brain. He was a SEAL. Or, more likely, a former one. And those were combat scars. But what was he doing marking time at Red’s? He obviously wasn’t from around here. Didn’t he have a home? The thought that he might not made a wave of sadness wash through her.

She was stunned at the invisible connection they’d made. It was more than the sex. Whatever it was had wound its way deep inside her and didn’t want to let go. How was that even possible, after only a few hours? But what did she do now?

Leave. Get the hell out of here.

Good idea. Her entire focus had to be on the book. She couldn’t afford to have it diluted by both an emotional and physical attraction to the first man she’d felt like that with in forever. Besides, from what she’d observed last night, he was a rolling stone gathering no moss on his aimless journey to wherever.

When she looked back up at him, he was staring at her, his face a hard mask. Great. Good thing she was taking her own advice because he looked like he couldn’t wait to get rid of her. He grabbed the edge of the sheet and pulled it up to his neck then closed his eyes again.

Well, okay, then. She could almost hear his thoughts.

Nice knowing you. Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out.

She slid out of bed, grabbed her clothes from the floor, and headed for the miniscule bathroom in the grade C motel room. Her body ached in delicious places. She’d done unbelievable erotic things with this total stranger. But maybe that was why she did them, because they’d never see each other again.

Forgoing makeup and with her hair pulled back in a hasty ponytail, she gathered her purse and slowly unlocked and opened the door to the room. Glancing at the bed, she saw Sean was in practically the same position as before, sheet and all. What did one do in this situation? Say thank you? Slide quickly out the door?

When Sean never uttered a sound, she opted for choice number two and quietly exited the room. Right now she wanted to go home, take a hot shower, fix a mug of coffee, and curl up on the couch, wondering what the hell she thought she’d been doing last night. That wasn’t her, not even a