Saving Amber - Zoe Dawson Page 0,9
pacing with the pent-up memories and the regret that he hadn’t tried harder. He should have tried harder. Of course, she would say that. Cops were a suspicious bunch by nature and, in his experience, had a tendency to jump to conclusions.
There was a banging on his door and when he opened it, Amber said, “Listen, I’m sorry. This must have been a terrible day for you and now I’m invading your space. But the job has to be done and they’ve sent me to do it. I’ve been traveling all day and was totally blindsided by this storm. I’ve had my car run off the road by Bullwinkle, walked all the way to the middle of nowhere in freezing temperatures, and I’m still chilled to the bone and totally exhausted. I’m supposed to be on vacation! Hot beaches, cool drinks, relaxation. I wish it were different. I really do.”
“I wish you weren’t here, and James was alive,” he said his voice subdued.
She nodded. “I really am sorry.”
She turned and headed to her room. He had a clear view of her fine, tight ass, her thick, gorgeous blonde hair flying around her shoulders and upper back. She paused for a moment, giving him a sympathetic look, and his chest tightened up. He didn’t want to be moved by this woman. He scowled at her and closed the door, not wanting to give an inch. It was a good thing that beautiful, distracting Amber was only going to be here for a short time. And, he got the feeling she wasn’t going to take any of his crap.
He went to unsnap his jeans but swore and rubbed his hand over his face. He had been rude, but he hadn’t wanted those reminders of his failures. Feeling he’d let James down somehow made all that consulate stuff and other failures from his past surface. What had James been doing up on that ridge? Had he lost his way? That seemed so completely unlike him. The sniper was very competent and had already been to that part of the mountain. He wouldn’t have forgotten or gotten lost.
His thoughts went back to Amber. He had to give her points for standing up to him.
With a curse he walked to his door and opened it. He knocked on hers and it was a moment before she pulled it open, every delectable inch of her on guard. He met her green eyes and his chest expanded, and for a moment, he was caught up in just looking at her. He certainly didn’t miss the way her eyes traveled over his bare chest.
“Still not keen on NCIS but thank you for caring about James on more than just a case level,” he said, then spun on his heel and went back into his bedroom.
Morning came all too swiftly, regardless of whether he’d slept or not. He’d gotten some sleep, but his thoughts about James’s death had raced and tormented him, and when he wasn’t feeling god-awful guilty about that, he was thinking about Amber and all her smooth skin, soft silky hair and firm, tight ass. How it would be so nice to sink into oblivion with her, into the comfort of a woman’s arms.
It had been way too long since he’d been laid. That was all. He was lonely and horny. The trick was remaining professionally detached around her. He could do that. He wasn’t the most diplomatic guy, but he could be adept at being courteous if he put his mind to it. He got up and went out into the living room and stopped dead. He had to take several breaths.
Courteous and professional went out the window. Trouble. God, he was in trouble here.
Stretched out on a mat in front of the couch and the picture window, Tristan had an unobstructed view of Amber’s firm, shapely ass. It was currently in the air in some yoga pose. She was wearing a pair of very tight black shorts and a sports bra, leaving her creamy shoulders and midriff bare. Everything male in him responded to her immediately. It was good that his T-shirt was long enough to cover his groin, where his dick was loose in his pajama pants. Make that was loose, now he was just painfully erect.
Which was so damned professional.
She looked at him through her legs as she did some other kind of pretzel move that was limber and mesmerizing. “Good morning.”
He grunted and headed across the living area to the kitchen