Strong, Sleek and Sinful - By Lorie O'Clare Page 0,166

It was as bad as if he wore dark sunglasses late at night. “I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and a moment of silence passed before his deep baritone brushed over her again, causing every hair on her body to stand at attention and her insides to tighten, creating a heat she was sure he must be able to notice.

“I find it hard to believe a special agent with the FBI wasn’t paying attention,” he accused. “Why are you here, Kylie?”

His cold words were a stab to her heart. He didn’t want her here. She could barely answer from the lump that threatened to close her throat. Worse yet, she didn’t know how to answer. And if she did, her voice would crack, her leg would give out, or something else would happen to make this moment turn from bad to worse.

As a warm breeze wrapped around her, a damp sweat spread over her body and her heart pattered furiously in her chest. Lately panic attacks were hitting her without warning. The psychiatrist she’d been forced to visit after being shot told her they were possibly a reaction to the medication she’d been on in the hospital. Not to mention, being shot was a traumatic experience, not only physically but also emotionally. Everyone handled it differently.

Kylie wasn’t sure she agreed either of those was the reason for her sudden erratic emotions. “I have some time off,” she heard herself say.

“So passing through again?”

Maybe it was for the best that she not even make it into town before learning she wasn’t wanted here. If she continued with this conversation she would break down, right here on the side of the interstate in the dark. Stability would return to her in time. And her own mental counseling told her that once she put closure where closure belonged and understood if there was anything between her and Perry, she would have better control of her emotions. As before, she would be able to keep them in check, under lock and key.

First, though, she feared, she needed to get that key back, because someone had stolen her heart.

“Let me get my driver’s license. You need to write your ticket.” She couldn’t take him standing there, not moving, his dark, cold manner eating her alive. “I promise not to speed again.”

He didn’t stop her, or comment, when she turned her back on him and leaned into her car. When the muscles in her outer thigh, around the mending wound, quivered as she shifted her weight, she braced herself, putting her hand on her opened door. Perry didn’t say anything, or stop her from getting her purse and registration out of her car.

An emptiness consumed her when he took her information and returned to his car. He didn’t tell her to wait in her car or follow him to his. She saw his partner sitting in the passenger seat, although she didn’t take time to note his reaction to her being here. She’d never had time to know Carl Ramos, but more than likely he would know something about her. At least Perry’s opinion of her being here when he returned to his patrol car.

Kylie felt as though she floated without direction all of a sudden. While recovering and then after spending time with her parents, she knew without a doubt she would return here. All that was on her mind throughout her recovery was seeing Perry. Maybe she should have exerted the effort to pick up the phone and call him. Why had she thought returning here would be like it was in movies, with the two of them running into each other’s arms and promising to be together forever?

Forever didn’t exist for her.

Although it seemed like forever, barely eight minutes passed before Perry returned, handing her personal information back to her, and a small clipboard for her to sign for the speeding ticket. Her hand was so damp and she was so shaken, she doubted the signature was legible. It didn’t matter. He tore her copy for her, handed it to her with his gloved hand, without bending down to see her better as she sat in her car. Another plus, tears threatened to fall and a pending pity party would release soon enough.

“You didn’t say how long you would be here,” he said, his tone still flat, unwelcoming, while he stood outside her car door.

With her window down, the temperature inside her car rose drastically. Sweat beaded