Meant to Be Immortal (Argeneau #32) - Lynsay Sands Page 0,12

God he wouldn’t be in her car, or her life, for long.

Twenty minutes, she told herself. That’s how long the ride back to the station would be, and then she wouldn’t have to worry about, or see, Macon (sexy as hell Mac) Argeneau again. Just one twenty-minute silent car ride. She could handle that, she reassured herself. Just concentrate on the road and don’t look at the man.

“So, you aren’t from Sandford?”

CJ blinked at the man, noting that the lights from the GPS screen and various other dials and whatnot in the car all seemed to be glowing on him so that she could see him quite well. Dear Lord he was gorgeous.

“You mentioned staying at the bed-and-breakfast,” he explained, apparently thinking she was gaping at him from surprise rather than simply goggling at his male beauty. “I assume that means you aren’t from town.”

His comment served to bring her out of her momentary fog of lust, and CJ forced her gaze back to the road ahead and nodded. “Yes. I mean, no, I’m not from Sandford.”

She didn’t expand on that, but clenched the steering wheel and told herself to keep her eyes on the road. Safety first, she reminded herself, and it was definitely all kinds of safe for her to concentrate on driving and ignore the man next to her. She managed to do that for the forty-five seconds he let pass before speaking again.

“You’re here to help the police?”

CJ was silent for a minute, her mind taken up with the way he slid in and out of formal speaking. Sometimes he used contractions sounding much more informal, and sometimes he didn’t. It was kind of weird, she decided. She’d only seen that in people who learned English as a second language.

“Ms. Cummings?” Mac asked when she didn’t respond.

His words managed to pull her from her thoughts, but then dropped her into a new one, and that was to wonder how he knew her name and why it sounded so naughty when he spoke it. Simpson must have told him, she decided, and forced herself to the topic at hand, but it was oddly difficult. It took her a full minute to recall his earlier question.

“Right. Helping the police,” she muttered, and then shook her head. “No. Definitely not. I’m here to investigate them. I only agreed to help out tonight because they were in a pinch.”

There, that sounded perfectly normal, she reassured herself, not at all like she was a drooling idiot preoccupied with wondering how his soft lips might feel on her body.

“Wow! Where did that come from?” she muttered to herself with dismay.

“What?” Mac asked. “Where did what come from?”

CJ was so surprised by the question and the fact that it meant she’d apparently spoken out loud that she glanced over at him askance. Fortunately, he was busy peering worriedly out the front window, apparently trying to see what might be ahead. Mouth tightening, she forced her attention forward again and said, “Nothing. A deer just ran across the road.”

A complete and utter lie, she acknowledged, but better than admitting she had been talking to herself. Out loud. About this sudden lust she had for him. Puffing out an exasperated breath, she reached over and turned on the radio. At least they couldn’t talk that way, which seemed the safer bet.

“Perfect,” she breathed unhappily as “Burnin’ for You” by Blue Öyster Cult filled the car. Obviously, the universe was laughing at her, because that was a pretty good description of how she was feeling at the moment. But at least with the music on she could pretend she was alone and ignore the man seated beside her. Or try to. He was hard to ignore. CJ was aware of every movement he made as he shifted to a more comfortable position. She was also aware that he was watching her. She could actually feel his eyes on her skin. Or it felt like she could, and she wanted to yell at him to keep those silver-blue orbs to himself. Instead, she just straightened her shoulders and stared grimly ahead for the next seventeen and a half minutes until they’d reached the police station.

Mac shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat, trying to take pressure off his backside. He didn’t know why, but while the rest of him was mostly healed, that area seemed to have been left for last. He was pretty sure the blisters were gone but there the area was still tender. The only