in for hours on end?
“Take a seat,” came the order from behind her.
The inherent command in his voice had her spine straightening. She turned very carefully on her heel and faced him. He was leaning back too casually against the door she hadn’t heard him close. Augusta shook her head once, then she stood motionless as he studied her from beneath a hooded gaze. She took that chance to study him in turn.
She hadn’t seen him in nearly a day and found herself disgustingly eager to refresh her memory. Not that her memory needed refreshing. She had him, his looks, his scent, his taste, his very presence, engraved in her mind. Quite simply, she couldn’t forget him had she wanted to. And if it was only lust, she could’ve handled that.
“Why are you here?”
His question made her blink twice. It was obvious, wasn’t it?
“This,” he began, holding up the rolled Times , “wouldn’t have been enough to send you here. Not when you balked at the mere thought of walking through the doors yesterday.”
Augusta’s hands shot out and gripped the back of a chair. Her knuckles were white. “I went home earlier and found reporters camped out in front of my house. But,” she continued, her voice rising and the words coming out more quickly with the resurgence of her anger, “that was only after I discovered the vultures circling the campus building where my office is and was consequently told by the faculty dean to take a leave of absence until further notice. They might as well have outright fired me. All because of that damned article. And you.” She took a deep breath, released it and regained a measure of control. “A ‘trusted source within the NYPD’ confirmed that you are concentrating your efforts on me because the latest theory is that I hired an assassin to do away with my estranged husband before the divorce could be finalized.” A sardonic eyebrow inched upwards as her voice cooled considerably. “Trying to sway public opinion so the trial’ll be easier? I didn’t think you would resort to such underhanded measures, Detective Markov.”
There was the scraping of chair legs on the floor, then he was suddenly looming in front of her, over her, but Augusta refused to back down. She wasn’t about to give him the pleasure of knowing he could intimidate her. He had already taken enough from her. Her job, her privacy, her life. The life she was only beginning to reconstruct again.
Nick cupped her shoulders and gave her a small shake. “Do you think I’d set you up? That I’d leak that garbage to the press?” When she didn’t answer, he shook her again and her hair came free of the loose swirl she had pinned above the nape of her neck. Her hair fell forward to obscure the sides of her face. “Jesus Christ. I spent the good part of my morning defending you. Everyone else is ready to hang you. Can you understand that? I’m the only one on your side at the moment.” His fingers tightened on her shoulders, making her wince, but she didn’t pull away. “And when I find the leak, he’s going to be writing traffic tickets for the rest of his career.”
The anger dissipated, replaced by burgeoning hope tempered with wariness as she considered the possibility that he was on her side…and not simply biding his time. Very slowly, very carefully, her head tipped forward to rest against his sternum.
His rough palms slid up her shoulders, lightly scratching her skin and leaving a trail of heat in his wake. His long fingers encircled her neck, his thumbs gently tilting her chin up. “How can you think that I would do something like that to you after what happened?”
Her smile was sad and fleeting. “That was lust.”
She felt his muscles stiffen and his fingers flex, and she prepared herself to be shaken once more. But he only said evenly, “It was more than lust, and you know it. You’re just too damned scared to admit it.”
Perhaps that
“Take a seat,” came the order from behind her.
The inherent command in his voice had her spine straightening. She turned very carefully on her heel and faced him. He was leaning back too casually against the door she hadn’t heard him close. Augusta shook her head once, then she stood motionless as he studied her from beneath a hooded gaze. She took that chance to study him in turn.
She hadn’t seen him in nearly a day and found herself disgustingly eager to refresh her memory. Not that her memory needed refreshing. She had him, his looks, his scent, his taste, his very presence, engraved in her mind. Quite simply, she couldn’t forget him had she wanted to. And if it was only lust, she could’ve handled that.
“Why are you here?”
His question made her blink twice. It was obvious, wasn’t it?
“This,” he began, holding up the rolled Times , “wouldn’t have been enough to send you here. Not when you balked at the mere thought of walking through the doors yesterday.”
Augusta’s hands shot out and gripped the back of a chair. Her knuckles were white. “I went home earlier and found reporters camped out in front of my house. But,” she continued, her voice rising and the words coming out more quickly with the resurgence of her anger, “that was only after I discovered the vultures circling the campus building where my office is and was consequently told by the faculty dean to take a leave of absence until further notice. They might as well have outright fired me. All because of that damned article. And you.” She took a deep breath, released it and regained a measure of control. “A ‘trusted source within the NYPD’ confirmed that you are concentrating your efforts on me because the latest theory is that I hired an assassin to do away with my estranged husband before the divorce could be finalized.” A sardonic eyebrow inched upwards as her voice cooled considerably. “Trying to sway public opinion so the trial’ll be easier? I didn’t think you would resort to such underhanded measures, Detective Markov.”
There was the scraping of chair legs on the floor, then he was suddenly looming in front of her, over her, but Augusta refused to back down. She wasn’t about to give him the pleasure of knowing he could intimidate her. He had already taken enough from her. Her job, her privacy, her life. The life she was only beginning to reconstruct again.
Nick cupped her shoulders and gave her a small shake. “Do you think I’d set you up? That I’d leak that garbage to the press?” When she didn’t answer, he shook her again and her hair came free of the loose swirl she had pinned above the nape of her neck. Her hair fell forward to obscure the sides of her face. “Jesus Christ. I spent the good part of my morning defending you. Everyone else is ready to hang you. Can you understand that? I’m the only one on your side at the moment.” His fingers tightened on her shoulders, making her wince, but she didn’t pull away. “And when I find the leak, he’s going to be writing traffic tickets for the rest of his career.”
The anger dissipated, replaced by burgeoning hope tempered with wariness as she considered the possibility that he was on her side…and not simply biding his time. Very slowly, very carefully, her head tipped forward to rest against his sternum.
His rough palms slid up her shoulders, lightly scratching her skin and leaving a trail of heat in his wake. His long fingers encircled her neck, his thumbs gently tilting her chin up. “How can you think that I would do something like that to you after what happened?”
Her smile was sad and fleeting. “That was lust.”
She felt his muscles stiffen and his fingers flex, and she prepared herself to be shaken once more. But he only said evenly, “It was more than lust, and you know it. You’re just too damned scared to admit it.”
Perhaps that
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