that other room. In that very, very small bed.
She groaned, braced her hands on the sink and dropped her head. A series of deep breaths helped settle the nerves in her stomach, and when she looked up, all she saw was a foggy mirror and a blurred image.
Better that she not see her wanton reflection. It would only reaffirm what she knew was true. She was dangerously close to jumping his bones.
Well, that wasn’t going to happen. With a shake of her head, she squared her shoulders and hefted the backpack up onto the edge of the sink. She opened the latch, reached inside and pulled out her Beretta. The metal felt cool in her hands, solid and familiar. Out of habit she checked the magazine, snapped it back into place and made sure the safety was set. She was prepared to use it if she had to, though deep inside, she really, really hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
Funny, she thought as she tipped her head and studied the gun in her hand. The whole time she and Pete had been running over the last few hours, she hadn’t had a chance to pull her weapon. Or maybe she just hadn’t thought to do so. A gun she hadn’t once forgotten to slip in the nightstand beside her bed in more years than she could count. A gun she never went anywhere without.
She knew why instantly and hated the reason. Because no matter how many times she questioned his ethics, she still felt safer with Pete than without him.
Heaving a sigh at the emotions that thought stirred in her, she slipped the gun back into her pack. Her fingers brushed a fabric pouch, and she drew out the necklace she’d stolen from his auction.
For a moment she thought about opening it but then changed her mind. This wasn’t the time. Just like the bathroom at that rundown diner hadn’t been either. When she was alone and could think without this sex-charged brain fuzz, then she’d take the time she needed and look at what she’d hidden inside.
Her shower did little to settle her nerves, and when she stepped out and dried off, the idea of putting her dirty clothes back on made her cringe. But she wasn’t going out there naked, and she hadn’t thought ahead far enough to stick a change of clothing in her pack back in New York.
The bra was a necessity, but the two-day-old panties were not. She tossed them in the trash and pulled on her jeans.
One deep breath and she knew she’d spent as much time in the bathroom as she could. Kat picked up her pack and opened the bathroom door. The bedside lamp was off, a low hum echoing through the room from the heater under the window. From the light in the bathroom behind her, she could see Pete laid out on the mattress, the blankets and sheets pulled down to the foot of the bed, one arm tucked behind his head as he eyed the door.
One bed. One bed. He’d gotten a room with one bed.
“Are you coming or what?” he asked in a thick, sexy voice that sent heat rushing through her body.
Oh, geez. What a question. To be taken in several different ways.
Use your brain, Kat. You know, that thing taking up space between your ears?
But still she didn’t move. Only breathed deep and was sure he could hear every pull and draw of air in her lungs.
He sat up slowly and dropped his legs over the side of the bed. “I know it’s not the Ritz, but my cash reserves are running low, and until I can replenish, I didn’t want to risk using my credit card. You can make do for one night.”
Kat opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
Before she could get her mouth working, Pete’s expression eased. “They didn’t have a room with two beds, and I wasn’t about to let you stay by yourself. At least not until we know Minyawi’s out of the country.”
She should have felt relief. Instead she was still so keyed up she didn’t know what to think. He didn’t want to sleep with her after all? The knowledge was almost harder to deal with than thinking he had something sinister planned.
“Lie down, Kat,” he said, his voice hard. “You’re not going to be any use to me tomorrow if you’re dead on your feet. We’re both tired. We need to sleep while we can.”
Her eyes