Heaving a sigh of relief, Kendra immediately started planning her next moves. “That leaves me at least three hours to?—”
“Not if he takes the helicopter,” a voice she hadn’t heard in days drawled from behind her, and every nerve ending in her body fired at once, locking her muscles.
Her breathing accelerated, her blood raced, and her heart pounded—her prey drive kicked into gear—Run! Flee! Hide!
No! No! No!
He couldn’t be there—she wasn’t ready!
Her voice ragged, she rasped, “Cora…I-I’ve got to go.”
Cora was silent for a moment, then sneered, “That asshole is there, isn’t he?”
Behind her, Gideon grunted.
Swallowing, Kendra replied, “Yes.”
Cora cursed, then said, “Call me if you need me, and I’ll be there.”
“Okay,” Kendra murmured, shaking.
“Be careful, and take care of yourself—that baby needs you healthy, okay?”
The baby…oh God! Did Gideon know about the baby, is that why he was there?
Before she could say goodbye, a hand she could trace in her mind reached around her, took the phone from her hand, and disconnected the call.
He was right there, right at her back, and her body knew his by instinct, raising goosebumps on her flesh in response—its master was there, and the primitive drive to obey master was overwhelming.
Immediately, she was hit with the heat of him, emanating from a body hewn from hard work, and carefully crafted for the maximum effect—making her weak and needy and desperate. But that wasn’t he worst part; his scent enveloped her, warm cloves, rich sandalwood, masculine and utterly spellbinding.
He knew she loved how he smelled, would often sigh at her when she tucked her face into his throat and sniffed him. His scent had never failed to bring her comfort, that sense of home and rightness, that contentment and joy at being close to the man she loved…and she thought loved her.
But it had been a lie.
Her muscles still locked, she didn’t stop him from gripping her shoulders, and slowly turning her to face him.
Still not ready to see him, she snapped her eyes shut—like a kindergartener who truly believed that if she couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see her, and she could hide there until he left.
She stood there, long moments, holding her breath, wishing herself away—anywhere—but nothing happened. She could feel his gaze on her, but…it was different.
Before, it was cold as ice, penetrating deep, and only sometimes scorching her with his desire, his need in times ofpassion. But now…it was…softer, like he was looking deeper, sketching her in his mind, with gentle yet strong hands.
When a large, warm hand pressed against her belly, right where the baby was nestled, the air trapped in her lungs exploded out, making her stumble back and her eyes fly open.
And there he was, standing before her—and she’d never seen him look so darkly beautiful.
Powerful, tall, dangerously masculine, magnetic, predatory—in a hand-tailored Italian suit, the man was devastating, capable of bringing any woman to their knees before him. And she’d been one of them, losing her breath that first night, three years ago, when she’d first spotted him across the gala.
The man was walking, talking, thrumming intensity on any given day, especially when he was dressed to kill in the boardroom.
But today…he was dressed in a pair of distressed jeans, a black t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. A pair of black biker boots on his feet completed the packaged look of a dangerous man. His hair, usually held in place by God and pomade, was mussed—more than likely wind tossed by the helicopter rotor as he exited.
His face was the same one she’d adored over three years, cut from stone, dark stubble on his chin, but where there were typically hard lines of tension and cold deliberation, there were now lines of weariness and concern beside his eyes.
And his eyes—emerald green, glinting, sharp—were now vibrant, dark and yet lit with fire, and beneath it all was a hauntedness, like he’d experienced things he couldn’t unsee, couldn’t undo.
And…even deeper than that…an atavistic light that was all animal.
