Black Aura by Jaycee Clark Page A

with it. Turning more in her chair, she cupped his face and kissed him back.
    It was as if months of self-doubt washed away to clear a brilliant path.
    And that path led to Max.
    The man could kiss.
    Lake closed her eyes, lost herself in the pleasant, welcoming charge of being wanted. Bright lights shimmered just at the edge of her vision behind her eyelids, but she held them at bay.
    Suspense.
    His tongue traced her lips and she shuddered, opening her mouth to him.
    Max’s hands cupped her jaw, his fingers trailing into her hair as those feelings simmered stronger.
    She could…she could… feel him. Not his physical want of her, but his desire, that elusive feeling. She could sense it, read it, so much so, she could all but taste the heady scent in the back of her mouth.
    His tongue danced and dueled with hers.
    Suspense, caution.
    She slowly pulled back, even as his fingers momentarily gripped her head as if he didn’t want her to go. Then he relaxed his hold on her and she sat back, staring into those slate gray eyes, tumultuous just now.
    “We shouldn’t rush it.”
    Those eyes stared into hers, reached into her very soul as if trying to see what was completely inside her.
    Finally he said softly, “No, we shouldn’t rush it. That would be a damn shame.”
    Then he straightened and gathered up the used containers before dumping them into the trash. He moved like a cat. Not a slick alley cat. No, he was more like a tamed…jaguar, she decided. Smooth and graceful, but just there under the edge lurked a danger.
    And that was what she needed to understand first.
    “I better be going,” she said, standing up. “Thanks for dinner.”
    His smile reached his eyes. Desire still thrummed off him and battered against her, but she let it go. For now.
    “You’re welcome. I haven’t enjoyed an evening this much in a long time.”
    “Me either,” she agreed. Then realized how true that was. “Me either.”
    His head tilted to the side and the lights shot silver off the gray at his temples, and his eyes studied her again in that intense way of his.
    Life father like daughter, she thought.
    “I have a feeling you’re being honest about that.” Then he shifted, his muscles rippling under the dark purple shirt, slick and looking damn good on him. “Which sounds odd, I’m sure.”
    She laughed. “Odd is as odd does, and no, it doesn’t. It sounds honest. Honesty is always, always preferred.”
    “Same goes,” he added with a slight tilt of his head.
    For a moment, they stared at each other. “Well, I better be going.”
    Motioning to the door, he said, “I’ll walk you home.”
    “A desirable man and he’s a gentleman too. Wow, will wonders never cease,” she quipped.
    He halted and grabbed his jacket. “He really did a number on you, didn’t he?”
    She met his gaze before looking down at the scuffed wooden floor. Then she plastered a smile on her face. Desire was one thing, indulging her darkest memories was not. “Suspense, remember?” She waved a hand at him. “Don’t worry about walking me home. I can make it across the street.”
    He took a deep breath as if he was about to argue. “Fine, but I’ll walk you out.”
    They made their way out through the hall entryway, out onto the landing and down the outside steps.
    “Again, thanks for dinner. I had a great time,” she said when they reached the gate.
    “Me too. Do it again?”
    “Definitely.”
    “When?”
    “Whenever.”
    “Tomorrow morning. Breakfast.”
    She did laugh then, a full-throated belly laugh. “I do not get up at the crack of dawn like some people. I like my beauty sleep, not sweating at daybreak. I’ll walk. Upon occasion, I’ll ride a bike. Yoga is good. I’m not into the whole mile-or-more runs, bike rides or triathlons.”
    He leaned against the gate. “You get up between seven and eight. Unless you haven’t slept well, then it’s earlier. Then you shower and get ready before heading downstairs to have a coffee, and