He reached out and grabbed her arm, and a blaze of sensation shot through her, like she’d suddenly grabbed a liveelectric wire, and the current was sizzling along her nerve endings.
But it was more than a physical reaction. So much more. Part sexual. Part longing. Part intimacy. None of which she could explain.
She’d never met this man before. Was he even real?
Yes!
It was like when she was reading the cards and she got a sudden insight into the person sitting across from her. Only this was so much deeper.
Did he feel it too?
Yes.
He hadn’t spoken. But she had heard the word in her head.
Before she could stop to consider that, he was urging her to leave.
Come on.He said again, another mind to mind communication.
She’d never experienced anything like it, nor did she know what to make of it.
But she got out of bed, wearing a sheer white nightgown that did nothing to hide her body from him.
He gave her a long, hot glance, and she knew that under other circumstances, they would be heading back to the bed, not away from it.
Instead, he led her quickly to the French doors.
They stepped out and ran across the terrace, just as a man burst through the doors behind them, and she knew that if they didn’t get away, they were dead.
The man who had first come to her room jumped nimbly down to the street level and held out his arms.
Without hesitation, she gave him her total trust, jumping into his embrace, crashing against him. He staggered back but kept his balance. When his arms came up to enfold her, she burrowed into him, feeling safe and at the same timemore terrified than she ever had in her life. Not just because someone was after them. It was him. Them. Whatever was between them was going to change her whole life, and she couldn’t stop it.
He lowered his mouth to hers for a hard, frantic kiss. As the contact deepened, something strange happened. She felt as though she was looking right into his mind, and the experience was like nothing she had ever imagined.
She opened for him, tasting him, taking in the flavor of man and fine wine.
She was so wrapped up in the experience that she had forgotten all about the guy on the terrace, until his shadow loomed over them.
She saw it, even with her eyes closed.
Breaking away, she gasped.
Even though they were supposed to be running from an intruder, they had gotten wound up in each other. Now they were trapped.
She woke with a start, the dream leaving her feeling disoriented and scared and exhilarated, all at the same time.
She lay in bed, breathing hard, going over the details of the encounter. The man who had first come to her room had been familiar. She should know him. But she couldn’t dredge up his name.
He had come to warn her that they were in danger. Was it a premonition? Or had she made it all up because she was upset about Evelyn Morgan?
Rachel was restless all the next day and feeling as though she wasn’t doing her best work for her clients. Finally, in frustration, she closed the shop and changed into a comfortable dress and low-heeled shoes before stopping to put on a little lip gloss and blusher.
The building she owned was several blocks from the BourbonStreet Arms, and she had plenty of time to change her mind as she walked through the winter New Orleans evening, past bars and restaurants, tee shirt shops and strip joints–that rich mix of French Quarter sights and sounds she’d known all her life.
It was still early, and the Quarter was crowded with tourists and locals out to have a good time, many of them walking along carrying cups of beer or mixed drinks.
Everybody appeared to be having fun, but she was feeling like she was going to her own funeral.
