“Danielle, open up.” Cole sounds stressed and by that, I mean more so than usual.
Rushing across the room, I slide the chain, turn the bolt, and push on the barrier.
My jaw drops. “Holy God almighty, what happened to your face?”
“Pack your stuff, you’re coming with me.” Scraped hands grab my waist while blood runs down his right cheek.
“Huh? Where? No, I can’t. I’m right in the middle of important work.”
Without asking, he unplugs my computer and places the charger in my hand. “I’m giving you five while I wash up. You got a problem? I’ll place you under protective custody. You can spend the night in jail.”
I hit save and while the icons swirl, I throw clothes in my suitcase. “Can you at least tell me what’s going on?”
Patting his swollen eye dry, his head pops out of the bathroom. “Someone tried to kill you.”
“No, they didn’t. I was here the whole time, just like you asked.” I slide out of my PJ bottoms, grab my jeans, and when I glance up, he’s in front of the mirror, jaw dropped with this deer-in-the-headlights expression.
I stop what I’m doing and stare back, the heat in the room rising about ten degrees.
“Sorry.” After the longest pause, he breaks away.
Brain cells rebooted, I finish dressing and crack open the restroom door. “I’m done. You can come out, now.”
In one giant step, he closes the distance between us, and chucks my chin. “Your rental car was sabotaged. No more taking chances, Dan. I mean it.”
“Is that why you’re all banged up. Someone cut my brakes?” I struggle to believe him but what other explanation is there?
His tongue flicks over his lower lip, inches from mine. “Worse.”
Time stands still as his dark orbs bore a hole into my weakening resolve. One nostril widens as his gaze travels down my body. Pain furrows his brows, he steps back, and severs the sexual connection.
“Let’s go.” He shuts my suitcase and wheels it to the door while I find my socks, and shove my feet into my boots.
Laptop, coat, and gloves in my arms, I rush to catch up as he bangs the down arrow at the elevator bay. Placing my computer bag between my feet, I don my outer gear.
“Where’re we going?”
“My place.”
“Oh, no, no, no.”Did I say that out loud?I was thinking of a safe house in the woods with cameras and trip wires. I am not sleeping in the same building as him.
“I won’t jump you, if that’s what you’re fretting about. You made it plenty clear you’re not interested.” The doors glide open, he makes sure I enter, and follows me into the lift.
I read somewhere that hell is not fire and brimstone, rather reliving your worst mistakes over and over for eternity. As I jog across the street, I wonder if this will be yet another in my long list. At his truck bed, I tap him on the shoulder and force him to face me.
“I am interested. Too interested.”
“Huh.” He swings my suitcase into the back and jumps into the driver’s side.
That’s his response?Stepping on the baseboard, I hop in the passenger side, snap my seatbelt, and vow to stay silent forever.
About a mile down the road, he glances over. “Did you mean it?”
“What do you think?”Why in the world can’t we have normal conversations involving real sentences, like regular people?
“Damn.” A smile breaks out on his face and the moment he places his large hand on my upper thigh, zings shoot to my core.
For the rest of the drive, I squeeze my legs together, marveling at the sensation he causes with a simple touch. Minutes later, we’re turning into his driveway and my heart races. Will we make out, make love, or forget the lusty heat and go to bed?
