“You’re frowning.”
He wasn’t. He knew he wasn’t. Inside maybe, but not on the outside. “You’re not supposed to be able to read my mind.”
Her laughter slipped out. Those bright notes that sounded too much like sunshine when nothing in his life had ever made him feel the way she did. It wasn’t even the chemistry arcing between them like electricity—so much he expected to see white sparks snapping off their skin whenever they were too close. It was the things about her that he’d learned while watching her from a distance. From reading the reports Javier had given to him. The generous way she interacted with others. She was real.
Gideon had no idea how or why she managed to take away his demons, but she did. “It’s probably best if you can’t read minds.” It slipped out before he could stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth.Hell.
Her eyebrow went up. She had a hint of red in her eyebrows. Staring at them was much safer than staring at her lips.
“What is going on in your mind that I shouldn’t know about?”
Gideon turned fully toward her, drawn by a source outside himself that was much more powerful than he could control. He shook his head. “I didn’t lure you up here to scare you. I’ve never been so attracted to a woman in my life. I didn’t expect the kind of chemistry we have between us. I’m hoping it isn’t all on my side.”
Her emerald eyes drifted over his face inch by slow inch. He swore he could hear his heart drumming out a beat louder than the pounding sea. A slow demure smile curved her full lips, drawing his attention right back to her mouth. “I don’t believe it is all on your side, Gideon.”
He let his breath out, the relief tremendous. She was honest and she hadn’t taken the least offense. He reached for the cooler in an effort to distract himself from his need to kiss her. “Beer? A soft drink? Water? Flavored water?”
“Water sounds good to me.” She opened the picnic basket. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“I waited to eat, so yes, I’m very hungry.”
He loosened the cap on the bottle of water and held it out to her rather than putting it on the table between them. Mostly it was an excuse to touch her. He wanted to feel her skin again. The pads of his fingers slid over her wrist when she took the bottle. Once again, he felt electrical charges snapping between them.
“What did you bring?” He slid his index finger back and forth along her inner wrist. He knew he shouldn’t, but the sensation created between her satin skin and the snapping electrical flashes was too hot to resist. Heat poured through his veins, and he felt the answering fire in hers, as if the connection between them was growing stronger.
She didn’t pull away. “Traditional picnic fare. Fried chicken and potato salad, but then I went off the rails and made spring rolls and shrimp fried rice. I thought it would be fun to try a couple of different dishes, and you seemed open to new possibilities.”
He liked that she thought he would be adventurous enough to try something different. “I do like to try new foods. When I travel for work, I make it a point to try the local dishes.” He had to release her, and he did so reluctantly.
“Do you do your own gardening?”
“For the most part. Gardening is soothing to me. Everything up here is designed around making this a peaceful retreat.” That along with protecting him if he had to defend his team from enemy fire.
“I do the same thing with my much smaller rooftop patio.” Shemade up a plate of food and passed it to him with a fork and napkin. “Your rooftop is huge and has all sorts of cool recesses built into it. Were they already there?”
He hesitated. It was a natural question. “I tried to stay as close to the original blueprints as possible on the outside of the building, but not up here. I designed most of this myself.” He could see miles out to sea, all over the harbor, blocks on either side of the road. It was a sniper’s dream, and if drones or helicopters were put in the air, he had so many places to hide, it would be impossible to see him.
“I’ve never quite understood what makes a person decide to put roots down in one place,” Rory said, curiosity in her voice. “Or what causes them to choose that place.”
Her green eyes met his intently but then slid away from his gaze. To give himself time to assess the situation properly, he took a bite of the potato salad. “This is outstanding,” he declared after chewing it properly and taking a second bite, just to be sure that he was right about it. “Yep, fantastic.”
He studied her averted face. “It’s perfectly all right that you enjoy seeing new places. I see them when I’m working. I’m certain traveling to various places for work satisfies my need to see new horizons. Do you think traveling is something you want to do, or something you’re compelled to do?”
Rory’s eyebrows drew together. The elegant lines had those same hints of dark cherry red when the lights fell across her face directly. He had to keep himself from leaning into her and brushing kisses over those winged brows. He even liked the way she contemplated his questions. She was thoughtful, not answering immediately.
“I don’t have family. Nothing to tie me to one place. I guess I thought it would be good to see all the places I would want to while I could, before I settled down to have a family. I suppose it’sbecome a habit. I’m used to being alone now. It gets difficult to be in the company of too many people for too long.”
“And yet you bartend,” he pointed out. “The chicken is delicious.”
“Thank you. I found that recipe online a few years ago and then experimented a little bit until I got it exactly the way I wanted it.” She flashed him a little smile that turned her green eyes to a dark emerald. “I do like to bartend, and the bar puts a barrier between me and everyone else. Even when it gets crowded, I feel safe. Or safer, I suppose, is what I should say.”
Taking his time, he thought that over as he ate the fried chicken. She had put that in a peculiar way. When it got crowded, she felt safe. Or safer. Why did she need to feel safe? Why was she continually moving? He was beginning to revisit the idea that she might be running from someone. But if she was, it didn’t make sense that she used the same name everywhere she went and that she grew comfortable with the people around her. She was relaxed and didn’t appear to be paranoid about her security. That didn’t go with someone on the run.
Rory still felt like a GhostWalker to him. He had no idea why. She didn’t act like one in the least. She didn’t have a GhostWalker tattoo that he could see on her. She didn’t appear to have any unique special skills, although he suspected she was extremely good at her job due to a psychic ability, but many people had psychic gifts they weren’t aware of.
Gideon was around GhostWalkers every day. He knew them. The energy that surrounded them. They controlled that energy to a point, but everyone gave off energy. It was simply a matter of being alive. At times, like now, when she was restful, Rory gave off that low energy the GhostWalkers did, so low one was barely aware of their existence. They could be in the same room and no onewould notice them. An enemy would walk right past them. It happened all the time.
“The bar makes you feel safe,” he echoed casually. “Safe from what?”
