devastatingly sensual stretch.
“No, really,” she emphasized. “You don’t have to stay.”
“I think maybe I do.”
“Afraid I’ll crack your security and steal your famous bar mix recipe?”
He showed his teeth in a strong flash of white, then grew sober. “Afraid my overzealous friend might stop in, find you here alone, and put a no-questions-asked end to you.”
“We wouldn’t want that on your conscience,” she drawled.
“ That wouldn’t be,” he brutally clarified. “I made a promise to keep you safe and I will. Failing to keep my word to a friend would bother me.”
“Thank you for your honesty.”
“No problem.” He bent to unlace his chunky work boots. For a moment, she was fascinated by the play of muscles across his back and shoulders as he said, “You won’t even know I’m here.”
Susanna turned back to her computer screen, her insides tightening at the sound of creaking leather as he lay down on the cushions.
Yeah, right.
Five
D espite his intention to remain alert, Jacques slept like the dead, waking to the heavy lethargy of undisturbed rest.
“What time’s it?”
Susanna still sat at the computer, her back to him as she wiped at her eyes and answered in a gruff voice, “Eight fifteen.”
Jacques sat up, brows lowering as he looked from the light blanket draped over him to the woman making an effort to hide her face. “What’s wrong?”
Her shoulders stiffened. “Nothing. Just tired.” She pulled in a shaky breath. “Eye strain from the smoke.”
Knowing his office had excellent filtration, Jacques kept his doubts to himself. She’d been crying. If she wanted to hide that fact from him, he wouldn’t call her on it. He’d signed on to provide safety and shelter, not an empathetic shoulder.
Still, a female’s tears always made him anxious and guilty, as if he’d somehow failed to protect her from her distress. He didn’t know what she had to cry about any more than he knew why she’d dropped that blanket over him, and considering either thing too deeply could only lead to problems. So he said nothing as he reached for his boots.
“I’ve got to get to work. You’re staying at MacCreedy’s place, right? I’ll drop you off.”
Her gaze jumped to him. Eye strain, my ass. There was no way to disguise the swollen redness of weeping eyes.
“You don’t need to do that. I’ve got more to finish up here.”
“Shut it down, doc. Time to go.”
He couldn’t miss her scowl of displeasure. Probably wasn’t used to an inferior species telling her what to do. Well, this inferior needed to get to work and wasn’t about to let her wander through the Quarter lugging her heavy bag of scientific tricks. Not on his watch.
Jacques gave a limbering stretch, pausing when he heard her sharp inhalation. He chuckled to himself. She wasn’t intimidated by him, but she wasn’t as indifferent to him as she pretended.
To provoke her genteel sensibilities, he stripped off his rumpled shirt and crossed, bare-chested, to his credenza, pulling open the drawer where he kept a stack of clean T-shirts. He tugged one over his head, then turned, thinking to catch her leering.
She was busy moving data to her flash drive, a high flush of color in her cheeks.
So, the sterile Chosen scientist got all flustered ogling him. Shame on her. The notion made him smile.
Susanna stood and turned toward him, her lowered eyes directed at his feet. Slowly, that gaze lifted, pausing at his thighs, at his inseam, making a leisurely slide up his torso to linger on his mouth. And surprisingly, his internal temperature rose along with that appraisal.
When her gaze finally connected with his own, what he saw burning in the dark intensity of her stare wasn’t lust or curiosity or distaste. It was something else, something so fierce and possessing, he took an awkward step back, nerves rattling like window blinds in a sudden gust of wind.
Then, in a blink, the clinical coolness returned and she
“No, really,” she emphasized. “You don’t have to stay.”
“I think maybe I do.”
“Afraid I’ll crack your security and steal your famous bar mix recipe?”
He showed his teeth in a strong flash of white, then grew sober. “Afraid my overzealous friend might stop in, find you here alone, and put a no-questions-asked end to you.”
“We wouldn’t want that on your conscience,” she drawled.
“ That wouldn’t be,” he brutally clarified. “I made a promise to keep you safe and I will. Failing to keep my word to a friend would bother me.”
“Thank you for your honesty.”
“No problem.” He bent to unlace his chunky work boots. For a moment, she was fascinated by the play of muscles across his back and shoulders as he said, “You won’t even know I’m here.”
Susanna turned back to her computer screen, her insides tightening at the sound of creaking leather as he lay down on the cushions.
Yeah, right.
Five
D espite his intention to remain alert, Jacques slept like the dead, waking to the heavy lethargy of undisturbed rest.
“What time’s it?”
Susanna still sat at the computer, her back to him as she wiped at her eyes and answered in a gruff voice, “Eight fifteen.”
Jacques sat up, brows lowering as he looked from the light blanket draped over him to the woman making an effort to hide her face. “What’s wrong?”
Her shoulders stiffened. “Nothing. Just tired.” She pulled in a shaky breath. “Eye strain from the smoke.”
Knowing his office had excellent filtration, Jacques kept his doubts to himself. She’d been crying. If she wanted to hide that fact from him, he wouldn’t call her on it. He’d signed on to provide safety and shelter, not an empathetic shoulder.
Still, a female’s tears always made him anxious and guilty, as if he’d somehow failed to protect her from her distress. He didn’t know what she had to cry about any more than he knew why she’d dropped that blanket over him, and considering either thing too deeply could only lead to problems. So he said nothing as he reached for his boots.
“I’ve got to get to work. You’re staying at MacCreedy’s place, right? I’ll drop you off.”
Her gaze jumped to him. Eye strain, my ass. There was no way to disguise the swollen redness of weeping eyes.
“You don’t need to do that. I’ve got more to finish up here.”
“Shut it down, doc. Time to go.”
He couldn’t miss her scowl of displeasure. Probably wasn’t used to an inferior species telling her what to do. Well, this inferior needed to get to work and wasn’t about to let her wander through the Quarter lugging her heavy bag of scientific tricks. Not on his watch.
Jacques gave a limbering stretch, pausing when he heard her sharp inhalation. He chuckled to himself. She wasn’t intimidated by him, but she wasn’t as indifferent to him as she pretended.
To provoke her genteel sensibilities, he stripped off his rumpled shirt and crossed, bare-chested, to his credenza, pulling open the drawer where he kept a stack of clean T-shirts. He tugged one over his head, then turned, thinking to catch her leering.
She was busy moving data to her flash drive, a high flush of color in her cheeks.
So, the sterile Chosen scientist got all flustered ogling him. Shame on her. The notion made him smile.
Susanna stood and turned toward him, her lowered eyes directed at his feet. Slowly, that gaze lifted, pausing at his thighs, at his inseam, making a leisurely slide up his torso to linger on his mouth. And surprisingly, his internal temperature rose along with that appraisal.
When her gaze finally connected with his own, what he saw burning in the dark intensity of her stare wasn’t lust or curiosity or distaste. It was something else, something so fierce and possessing, he took an awkward step back, nerves rattling like window blinds in a sudden gust of wind.
Then, in a blink, the clinical coolness returned and she
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