He let his gaze slide down. Her breasts were voluptuous, their peaks hardening through the tightly-buttoned checked shirt even as he watched. Her skirt was brown, and though it swirled lightly around her feet, it was slit up the sides to her knees and would undoubtedly reveal tantalizing flashes of leg when she moved. He ached to explore what was still hidden, to slide his hand up the silky flesh of her thighs and discover paradise...
"What do you want?" His voice came out harsh, roughened as much by need as anger at his own reaction. Good lord, he wasn't so starved for sex that he'd take his ease on a whore. He hadn't been that desperate for a long, long time.
She studied him for a moment, and then licked her lips. Like a lamb caught in the stare of a wolf, he watched, as if hypnotized.
And that only succeeded in making him angrier. There had to be magic involved. What else could account for such a strong and instant attraction?
"We need to talk," she repeated eventually.
"So you said. About what?"
His voice was still harsh, but if she sensed his anger, she wasn't showing any fear. Either she was as stupid as a mule, or she was more capable of looking after herself than she appeared. Or, as he'd originally thought, she was protected by some form of magic. He could probably discover the truth if he stepped closer, but instinct suggested he shouldn't. He didn't know why, but for the moment, he was following instinct.
"I know why you're here in Hartwell," she said softly.
"Do you now?"
She shifted, affording him a glimpse of lightly tanned leg and thick boots. Not the shoe of choice for a whore, normally. "You're here to hunt down and kill a man by the name of Dunleavy." He continued to glare at her. She shifted again, yet still there was no sign of fear in her mannerisms—no tremor in her voice, no avoidance of his eyes, no fluttering, nervous movements. Maybe the little fool didn't even realize he could snap her neck in the blink of an eye.
"What makes you think that?" he asked.
"Because I'm hunting him, too."
He couldn't stop the laugh that escaped. "You? Hunting a man like Dunleavy? Sweetheart, he'd eat you up in half a second."
Her eyes darkened imperceptibly at the endearment. "No, he won't. Nor will you."
"You think?"