No More Mr. Nice - By Renee Roszel Page 0,44

halted, wisely not voicing his thought.

“Don’t you dare say, either,” Lucas warned. “We’re going to find the glitch in the program and get this deal if it’s the last thing we do.”

“Uh, right,” Fletch said. “You find anything on your end?”

“No. I’m working on it now.” Deciding not to tell Fletch the absurd story about how his computer got thrown into the lake, he just said, “Had a problem with my XJ 9000 this morning. What about you and Sol? Find anything in the sensor system?”

“Nada, but we’re staying with it.”

“Check with me before you go home.”

“Home?” Fletch scoffed. “I’m not familiar with the word.”

“Hilarious,” Lucas said tonelessly, then hung up.

As he moved to reset his computer, he paused, cursed and sagged back wearily. Closing his eyes, he did something he rarely ever did—let his mind wander. Irritated, but knowing he wasn’t getting any work done, he decided he might as well get this thing sorted out in his mind and file it away so he could get on with his life, and his work. What difference would fifteen lousy minutes make?

Why in hell had he kissed Jess Glen last night? The question had gnawed at him all day. And, if he were to be honest, it had cost him what little sleep he might have had when he’d finally given in to exhaustion around four in the morning, and had fallen into bed.

Maybe his lapse had been due partly to nostalgia. He hadn’t gone walking in that part of the woods since—well, for years. It had brought back memories of happier times. That’s probably why he’d lingered with Jess instead of going back to the house. Damn, it had been eerie to walk there. To be so near his…

He ran a restless hand through his hair, cursed again and decided to face the fact that it hadn’t been only that. Not simple nostalgia. It had been Jess, too. That flustered, brave little speech had given him new insight into why she was the way she was, why she automatically disliked men like him and was nervous when he was around.

She’d been bossed and badgered a lot in her life, and she was sick of it. He could see now why she wanted desperately to be a person in her own right—not one who someone else was molding like sculptor’s clay, but her own person. People in her past had made her terribly vulnerable, damn them. She’d proved that today when she would rather have drowned than accept his help and maybe get a little ribbing. When she’d pleaded with him, choking and coughing, her frightened eyes bright with tears, he’d felt like kissing her again, right there in front of God and everyone.

What was it about her that made him want to take her in his arms and protect her? That was the last thing she wanted from him—or from anyone. She wanted respect and fair treatment, and he didn’t blame her, didn’t fault her. Unexpectedly, last night he’d felt her pain, witnessed her shattered confidence, and it had touched something inside him.

He’d made an effort over the years to empty himself of emotions and sentiment. That’s why the kiss had surprised him so. It had shocked her, but it had blown him away. He hadn’t kissed a woman out of simple caring in a lot of years; had never expected or wanted to, again. Yet, he’d felt a stirring last night, and had acted on it. Not the brightest idea he’d had lately, but it had been too strong to ignore.

It had been some sort of twisted, crazy urge to help, he guessed—no doubt due to his fatigue and the lack of female companionship since he’d begun this damned Takahashi thing a month ago. He’d regretted his actions immediately, but hadn’t been able to forget how perfectly attuned their kiss had been, how damned quickly and thoroughly the whisper-light touch of their lips had become wildly hungry; and that memory rode him hard.

Over the years, he’d learned to distance himself from pain, both his own and other people’s. Since his divorce, he’d made it a practice—no, a strict policy—not to get involved. Especially with women who wore their hearts on their sleeves and lived by their emotions—like Jess.

Why, then, was he suddenly ambivalent about his strict policy of noninvolvement? What was it about her that made him want to punch somebody? Her father, maybe? Or her ass of an ex-husband? Why did he want to shout, “Leave the