Lie by Night: An Out of Darkness novel (Entangled Ignite) by Cathy Marlowe Page A
Book: Lie by Night: An Out of Darkness novel (Entangled Ignite) by Cathy Marlowe
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Authors: Cathy Marlowe
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possible the old man had somehow discovered Cole’s presence on the island, they agreed it was more likely the men had followed Emma. Cole thought he’d heard the gunmen refer to the lady while they were hiding. But why had they followed her?
Ending the call, he ran one hand through his grungy hair. There’d been no sign of Forrester since his escape, but Zach had doubled security at his home in southern New York.
Pulling his shirt over his head, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror and groaned. He looked like hell. No wonder Emma had looked down her nose at him.
Well, that and the fact that he’d searched her pockets.
And, of course, there was the brief yet stunningly disastrous history between them. It had been over six months since he’d begun a discreet investigation of Jacob and found himself in a dilemma. He liked the guy, was inclined to trust him, and yet Jacob had appeared to be part of Forrester’s inner circle, not merely one of his dupes.
Clearly the inclination toward trust was mutual, since Jacob had set him up with his sister.
He shucked the rest of his clothes and stepped gratefully into the hot spray. Bracing his hands against the wall on either side of the shower head, he bent his head and let the water beat down his back. He tried to focus on what he’d learned during his conversation with Zach, but visions of Emma distracted him. With her wet hair combed straight back, her nose and cheeks flushed by the shower, she’d exuded sexiness—even hidden by the plush robe. The sight of her had caused his mouth to go dry, his food to stick in his throat. And then she’d licked that drop of sauce from her bottom lip.
Trying not to think of her, he reached for the soap and scrubbed away the grime.
When he stepped out of the shower ten minutes later, he felt focused again. Intent on his mission. He slipped into running pants and a T-shirt, and finger combed his hair.
Committed to tracking down a very dangerous man, he’d keep his desire under control, quell his inclination to trust a woman who had other priorities.
Cole opened the bathroom door and stepped into the bedroom. Emma lay curled atop the bed, huddled inside her robe, asleep, her damp hair falling in disarray around her face.
She whimpered and shifted slightly, her nightmares having followed her across the open water. Quietly he separated the clean dishes from the dirty, stacked the latter onto the tray, and set them in the hall. Then he shut the door, threw the bolt, and set the chain. As an extra precaution, he wedged a chair under the door handle.
Next, he took the unused dishes and set them in front of the window, along with odds and ends from around the room. In the unlikely occurrence anyone breached the window, he wanted noise. Normally, he woke at the slightest sound, but tonight, well, he hadn’t slept in almost forty-eight hours, and he was exhausted.
He closed the drapes, plunging the room into gloomy twilight. Then, undecided over just how chivalrous he wanted to be about the sleeping arrangements, he hesitated.
Emma whimpered again, louder this time, and cried out softly. Telling himself they’d both get more sleep if he joined her, he sat on the edge of the bed. The soft mattress felt heavenly after nights on the hard earth. Gently, he shifted Emma’s feet and pulled the velour throw out from under her legs. He covered her with it, running his hand along her slender back until she quieted.
At last, he stretched out full length on his back. The sound of Emma’s soft breathing expanded within the confines of the room. Although they’d used the same soap, she smelled better than he did. She smelled great.
Moments later, as he journeyed toward sleep, she stirred, scooting until her back pressed against him. With a sigh, she quieted, never fully waking. He exhaled in frustration. It was going to be a long afternoon and, he suspected, an even longer night.
…
Alistair Forrester poured two fingers of
Ending the call, he ran one hand through his grungy hair. There’d been no sign of Forrester since his escape, but Zach had doubled security at his home in southern New York.
Pulling his shirt over his head, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror and groaned. He looked like hell. No wonder Emma had looked down her nose at him.
Well, that and the fact that he’d searched her pockets.
And, of course, there was the brief yet stunningly disastrous history between them. It had been over six months since he’d begun a discreet investigation of Jacob and found himself in a dilemma. He liked the guy, was inclined to trust him, and yet Jacob had appeared to be part of Forrester’s inner circle, not merely one of his dupes.
Clearly the inclination toward trust was mutual, since Jacob had set him up with his sister.
He shucked the rest of his clothes and stepped gratefully into the hot spray. Bracing his hands against the wall on either side of the shower head, he bent his head and let the water beat down his back. He tried to focus on what he’d learned during his conversation with Zach, but visions of Emma distracted him. With her wet hair combed straight back, her nose and cheeks flushed by the shower, she’d exuded sexiness—even hidden by the plush robe. The sight of her had caused his mouth to go dry, his food to stick in his throat. And then she’d licked that drop of sauce from her bottom lip.
Trying not to think of her, he reached for the soap and scrubbed away the grime.
When he stepped out of the shower ten minutes later, he felt focused again. Intent on his mission. He slipped into running pants and a T-shirt, and finger combed his hair.
Committed to tracking down a very dangerous man, he’d keep his desire under control, quell his inclination to trust a woman who had other priorities.
Cole opened the bathroom door and stepped into the bedroom. Emma lay curled atop the bed, huddled inside her robe, asleep, her damp hair falling in disarray around her face.
She whimpered and shifted slightly, her nightmares having followed her across the open water. Quietly he separated the clean dishes from the dirty, stacked the latter onto the tray, and set them in the hall. Then he shut the door, threw the bolt, and set the chain. As an extra precaution, he wedged a chair under the door handle.
Next, he took the unused dishes and set them in front of the window, along with odds and ends from around the room. In the unlikely occurrence anyone breached the window, he wanted noise. Normally, he woke at the slightest sound, but tonight, well, he hadn’t slept in almost forty-eight hours, and he was exhausted.
He closed the drapes, plunging the room into gloomy twilight. Then, undecided over just how chivalrous he wanted to be about the sleeping arrangements, he hesitated.
Emma whimpered again, louder this time, and cried out softly. Telling himself they’d both get more sleep if he joined her, he sat on the edge of the bed. The soft mattress felt heavenly after nights on the hard earth. Gently, he shifted Emma’s feet and pulled the velour throw out from under her legs. He covered her with it, running his hand along her slender back until she quieted.
At last, he stretched out full length on his back. The sound of Emma’s soft breathing expanded within the confines of the room. Although they’d used the same soap, she smelled better than he did. She smelled great.
Moments later, as he journeyed toward sleep, she stirred, scooting until her back pressed against him. With a sigh, she quieted, never fully waking. He exhaled in frustration. It was going to be a long afternoon and, he suspected, an even longer night.
…
Alistair Forrester poured two fingers of
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