He hauled his shirt over his head, and she should have turned but didn’t. He was incredibly well built. His smooth lines conjured a feeling that he should’ve been on a pedestal, like a statue or a sports car at an auto show. Though sleek and perfectly designed, he had one imperfection. A round quarter-sized scar on the left side of his chest. The puckered skin was lighter than the rest that surrounded it. She stepped forward to examine the mark, but he cleared his throat, making her look up.
“Kate,” he said in a tone of voice that was both amused and stern. “I’m a strange man and clearly dangerous. Should you be this close to me while I undress?”
“You kill ventala. There’s not a single door in the house that you couldn’t come through if you wanted to. Actually, you probably could have kicked open the back door, too.”
He smiled, which turned his handsome face glorious. Things low in her belly tightened, and she fought not to reach for him. Her fingers wanted to touch. Her mouth wanted to taste. Was his overwhelming appeal magical? If not ventala, could he be a male descendant of the muses?
“I assume that smile means you realized you could’ve broken the door open,” she said.
“I did.”
“Were you tempted to force your way in?”
“A little,” he admitted. “It’s very cold out there.”
“And yet you restrained yourself. Well done.”
He raised his brows. “You suspect it was a struggle for me?”
“I honestly don’t know.” In her nightmares, despite the blade against her throat, he didn’t try to reason with his enemy, didn’t try to get her out from between them. He lunged into battle, oblivious to whether she would be injured. That thought sobered her. She turned, holding her hand out to the side. “Give me your clothes. I’ll take care of them for you.”
A moment later, she had them, such as they were. She exited without looking back and heard the water jets as she closed the door.
At the washing machine, she glanced over his clothes. No underwear? And what was with the uneven stitching? Were they hand-sewn? There were no care tags inside, and the fabric was rough. She pictured him buying them at a bazaar in a third-world country. Maybe he had been a soldier. Perhaps stationed in the Middle East? But that didn’t explain why he wasn’t dressed for Colorado weather now.
In the kitchen, she warmed corn chowder and toasted thick slices of buttered French bread in the oven. In between preparing lunch, she checked the Boulder Police Department’s online blotter. The only local missing person report was of an elderly woman who’d wandered away from a nursing home.
After she fed him, Kate would drive her mystery guest to the police department to start the formal process of finding out who he was.
“Kate,” he said, rushing into the room with a towel barely fastened around his hips. Muscles deep inside her contracted. Wet and nearly naked, he looked ... edible.
Then he flashed a smile, and his sudden exuberance was like champagne and strawberries, intoxicating her, curving her lips into a smile.
“Kate,” he repeated, tapping the counter with his palm.
“Yes?”
“What part of the Roman Empire is this?”
She raised her brows and set her spatula on the stove. “No part. There is no Roman Empire anymore.”
“Defeated? How long ago?”
“Around fifteen hundred years ago.”
“That long,” he mused, taking a step back. “Apparently I’m very good at what I do.”
“And what is that?”
Triumphant as a conquering hero, he grinned. “I’m a time traveler.”
Chapter Three
“There’s nothing as satisfying as breaking the law,” Tamberi said, smirking.
Her brother, Cato, laughed in agreement.
Dark as a womb, the deep, damp cave sheltered bats, rats, and a delicious secret. It was about to become a vortex of forbidden magic.