nodded and helped her.
“He doesn’t really want the plant, anyway,” Lark tried to convince herself. “He’ll want the data. It won’t help him much, though. The stuff at—wherever they treated you. That’s what he really wants.”
“He can’t get to it. This is the next best thing.” He pushed the last one down and covered it. “Come on, we’re running out of time.”
Lark didn’t need further urging. She grabbed her files from the spare bedroom, which were extensive but still fit in a lockable case Jason could carry. Then she threw a few things in a bag, checked her messages, watered her regular plants, and called work to take a leave of absence for “stress” after the afternoon’s incident. Luckily, Ralph was still tied up with the break-in. Lark left a message with his assistant, brisk and straightforward and giving her no time to ask questions. Then Jason ghosted them out again.
Back in the car a few minutes later, she took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”
“At the safe house.”
She considered arguing, but she didn’t want to split his attention. First, because it occurred to her he might not have driven for six months, and they’d both be safer if he could concentrate. Second, because she wanted it all. So she just said, “It better not be far.”
“It’s not.”
“Good.” She slid down on her spine and closed her eyes. “Wake me when we get there.”
Jason waited until he had some open highway and was positive they weren’t being tailed before he studied Lark. He knew she wasn’t sleeping. She’d never been able to sleep while traveling. That could have changed, but her breathing stayed light, her body held taut, if not tensely.
He let out a breath. Shit, she’d grown into her potential. Matt had shown him pictures so he’d be sure to recognize her when she wasn’t wet. The photos displayed plastic beauty. Perfect skin, brilliant teeth, smooth forehead, and glossy dark hair covering a hard shell and projecting little substance. In person, though, she was different. Her ancestry—as far as he knew, a mix of Middle Eastern, Native American, and Far Eastern origin—gave her exotically shaped dark eyes and dark hair that was almost a living color, it had so many variations. Her beauty appealed to him more than he’d have expected, and it took him off guard, even after he’d adjusted his mental image of her from coltish teenager to sophisticated woman.
Jason had watched Lark with Isaac, as he’d slipped up behind him in her greenhouse at work. She’d resisted but kept her head, didn’t do anything foolish, and had shown no fear. She’d probably kept up some self-defense training; that gave confidence in a confrontation. Plus, Donald probably was blind, but she wasn’t freaking out at what she’d done. The combination was a bigger turn-on than anything had been in a long time.
He glanced at her again. She had the glossy hair and the perfect skin the pictures displayed, but she also had dark dirt under her fingernails and streaking her pants. Her shirt was worn denim, and hid a body that had felt small but strong under his arm when he caught her earlier. He had a feeling she kept good care of herself out of practicality rather than vanity. She hadn’t packed a lot of makeup and junk when they were at the apartment.
He stared at the road ahead, trying to ignore the feeling filling him now. He’d conditioned himself against adrenaline-fueled attraction once he hit the management track. He worked with—and was the boss of—too many women to risk indulging it, even as a quick rush. This wasn’t like that, anyway. Not superficial excitement pumping through him, but something deeper, more complex. Fuck.
He’s your best mate floated through his brain. Jason tried not to imagine Matt’s reaction if he ever found out. He was ten years older than Lark, for one thing. Even though Matt was ten years older than Jason, he still saw them as
“He doesn’t really want the plant, anyway,” Lark tried to convince herself. “He’ll want the data. It won’t help him much, though. The stuff at—wherever they treated you. That’s what he really wants.”
“He can’t get to it. This is the next best thing.” He pushed the last one down and covered it. “Come on, we’re running out of time.”
Lark didn’t need further urging. She grabbed her files from the spare bedroom, which were extensive but still fit in a lockable case Jason could carry. Then she threw a few things in a bag, checked her messages, watered her regular plants, and called work to take a leave of absence for “stress” after the afternoon’s incident. Luckily, Ralph was still tied up with the break-in. Lark left a message with his assistant, brisk and straightforward and giving her no time to ask questions. Then Jason ghosted them out again.
Back in the car a few minutes later, she took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”
“At the safe house.”
She considered arguing, but she didn’t want to split his attention. First, because it occurred to her he might not have driven for six months, and they’d both be safer if he could concentrate. Second, because she wanted it all. So she just said, “It better not be far.”
“It’s not.”
“Good.” She slid down on her spine and closed her eyes. “Wake me when we get there.”
Jason waited until he had some open highway and was positive they weren’t being tailed before he studied Lark. He knew she wasn’t sleeping. She’d never been able to sleep while traveling. That could have changed, but her breathing stayed light, her body held taut, if not tensely.
He let out a breath. Shit, she’d grown into her potential. Matt had shown him pictures so he’d be sure to recognize her when she wasn’t wet. The photos displayed plastic beauty. Perfect skin, brilliant teeth, smooth forehead, and glossy dark hair covering a hard shell and projecting little substance. In person, though, she was different. Her ancestry—as far as he knew, a mix of Middle Eastern, Native American, and Far Eastern origin—gave her exotically shaped dark eyes and dark hair that was almost a living color, it had so many variations. Her beauty appealed to him more than he’d have expected, and it took him off guard, even after he’d adjusted his mental image of her from coltish teenager to sophisticated woman.
Jason had watched Lark with Isaac, as he’d slipped up behind him in her greenhouse at work. She’d resisted but kept her head, didn’t do anything foolish, and had shown no fear. She’d probably kept up some self-defense training; that gave confidence in a confrontation. Plus, Donald probably was blind, but she wasn’t freaking out at what she’d done. The combination was a bigger turn-on than anything had been in a long time.
He glanced at her again. She had the glossy hair and the perfect skin the pictures displayed, but she also had dark dirt under her fingernails and streaking her pants. Her shirt was worn denim, and hid a body that had felt small but strong under his arm when he caught her earlier. He had a feeling she kept good care of herself out of practicality rather than vanity. She hadn’t packed a lot of makeup and junk when they were at the apartment.
He stared at the road ahead, trying to ignore the feeling filling him now. He’d conditioned himself against adrenaline-fueled attraction once he hit the management track. He worked with—and was the boss of—too many women to risk indulging it, even as a quick rush. This wasn’t like that, anyway. Not superficial excitement pumping through him, but something deeper, more complex. Fuck.
He’s your best mate floated through his brain. Jason tried not to imagine Matt’s reaction if he ever found out. He was ten years older than Lark, for one thing. Even though Matt was ten years older than Jason, he still saw them as
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