Grace’s fingers tingled from Hunter’s touch, and she forced herself to concentrate on that instead of the horror of her partner’s death. Because if she focused on the horror of her partner’s death, she might finally give in to corner-rocking, teeth-gnashing, hair-pulling breakdown that’d been threatening ever since she’d stumbled into Stewart’s adjoining motel room.
So…Hunter. The ultimate distraction. Capable of staving off even a well-deserved panic attack.
She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but he was even more handsome than she remembered.
His short brown hair seemed darker, more the color of mink. His sexy five-o’clock shadow was toeing over the line into beard territory. And the gold rimming the pupils of his hazel eyes appeared brighter, reminding her of a jungle cat staring out at her from deep inside the shadows of dense foliage.
Also…is he taller?
The notion was ridiculous, of course. A man in his thirties was well past growth spurts. It had to be the thick soles on his steel-toed biker boots. But still…
Yowza.
The first time she’d laid eyes on him, a word had sprung to life inside her head in all capital letters. MAN. It was there in the broadness of his palms, the jut of his Adam’s apple, the dark, crinkly hair she’d glimpsed poking above the collar of his T-shirt.
He was one of those guys who oozed testosterone. Not in a toxically masculine way that was all about arrogance and aggression. But in the way he seemed so confident and comfortable in his own skin. In the way he came off as strong and capable, and yet was sensitive enough to take one look at her and know what she needed from him.
Her mind drifted back to that ballroom. To him turning to frame her face. To the feel of his hot mouth claiming her own.
Was she a fool for having spent the last three years dreaming of that kiss?
Yes,the little voice in her head declared.Because it wasn’t a real kiss. It was a pity kiss.
“Anddidyou kill your partner?” Sam dragged her from her thoughts which…boo, hiss.Her past—at least the part involving Hunter—was far preferable to her present.
“If you believe wishes can turn into stab wounds, then yeah.” When Sam only blinked, she sighed. “Look, Stewart and I had only been partnered up for two months. But in that time, we’d managed to ruffle each other’s feathers. I expected him to fall in line and follow my lead. And he was your typical frat-boy misogynist raised to believe he was the king of the world. He hated that I, awoman,” she stressed, “who was two years younger than him, was the senior agent.”
She screwed up her lips. “Of course, his lack of promotion probably stemmed from him being unable to find his ass with a map and a microscope. And I’ve been in forests less shady. He flashed his credentials every chance he got, hoping it’d get him free coffee, free dinner, the waitress’s phone number, etcetera.”
She shuddered thinking of what a worthless excuse for a partner Stewart had been. She’d run into plenty of people in her life whom she’d disliked. But Stewart? Him she’dloathed.
Even still, he hadn’t deserved…
She shuddered at the memory of his last moments. At the fear and desperation in his eyes. And then…at the very end…at the look of understanding and resignation that’d crossed his face.
As much as she had despised him, she’d give just about anything to go back in time and save him from his fate. Go back and hide her pocketknife. Go back and take him up on his offer to order some Chinese food and watch reruns ofThe Office.
See? He wasn’t all bad. At least he had good taste in television.
Of course, she suspected his favorite part of the show was Michael’s obsession withthat’s what she saidjokes. But that was beside the point.
The point was, despite all his faults, she’d have never wished on him such a violent and painful death.
Hell, she wouldn’t wish that kind of death on anyone.
“Last week I emailed a request to have him transferred.” She winced. “I think my exact words to the director were, ‘Pair him with someone else or I’ll wind up killing him.’ Which, yeah, probably wasn’t the best choice of words given how things turned out.”
Hunter ran a hand over the stubble on his cheek. It made a deliciousscritchingsound that reminded her it’d been years since she’d had beard burn. Since she’d pressed her cheek up against a man’s and experienced the thrill of soft skin meeting rough.
After her divorce, she’d been a classic case ofonce bitten, twice shy. And except for those four brief days she’d spent with Hunter in Michigan, that’s the way she’d stayed.
But now…
Oh, now her hibernating libido was waking up after a long, hard winter. And wouldn’t you know it? It wasravenous.
I want to jump in his lap and lick him until my tongue gets tired, she thought with no small amount of self-recrimination because…seriously?Now is not the time, Grace!
Besides, even if it were the time, she wasn’t his type.
