BlindHeat by Nara Malone Page B

as if that were a perfectly acceptable reason to
call it a moonstone. He smiled, pleased with her willingness to play along.
    Her eyes followed his break in gaze the first two times,
done slowly while he was talking. The third time her attention stayed with the
flowers and light. A soft half-smile curved her lips. Her hand stopped trembling.
    “I found it on a tropical island, a beautiful, safe place.”
He emphasized the word safe. “It has been rocked in the ocean, kissed by the
wind and bathed in moonlight on the other side of the world.” A shiver passed
through her, an expanding awareness that felt like a tug on his attention.
Briefly the image of a shabby red blanket decorated with images of white
kittens flashed in his mind. A security blanket from her childhood possibly. A
reasonable projection when he was trying to create a security attachment to his
gift.
    Marcus resisted the temptation to follow that image and
discover what Allie’s past could tell him. Prying unnecessarily into someone’s
thoughts went against his sense of honor. Creating a trusting dialogue that
would encourage her to reveal what he needed to know was his preference. He had
a particular destination in mind—Hella—and this time Allie wasn’t going to lead
him off track. “Close your eyes and open your senses to the moonstone’s magic.”
    Allie closed her eyes. The tension in her fingers relaxed
the tiniest bit, and then more as the stored vibrations from the ocean passed
from the stone into her palm.
    Then she looked at him, green eyes clear, unguarded. Just
where he wanted her.
    “What do you hate, Allie?”
    The answer was quick, unfiltered. “Pretending.”
    Her shoulders hunched forward, as if she could deflect the
obvious next question, or braced for its pounce. When her eyes opened, wariness
looked out at him. He didn’t ask the question he believed she expected. He gave
her a crooked bad-boy grin, an invitation to mischief.
    “Is there anything you like to pretend? A particular fantasy
you like to lose yourself in?”
    Her face relaxed, took on a soft glow. Sparks danced in her
eyes.
    “One or two.”
    Marcus put his hand over hers, squeezing her fingers tight
around the rock he’d tucked into her hand. “Hold that thought. Don’t let it
go.”
     
    Dinner with him was like sticking her finger in an electric
socket and discovering she had a fondness for electric shocks. The air around
them vibrated with possibility. It snapped and popped with restrained tension
every time his arm brushed hers.
    He was a toucher.
    She hated touchers. But in the park that morning she’d
begged for more. It wasn’t the case now with his hands cupping hers. Marcus
knew how to touch, more a rubbing of skin to skin than a confining grasp. She
barely heard the lines he used to try to charm her. Her attention locked on
scarlet blossoms in a crystal bowl, a candle glowing in the center. Vibrations
and air currents moved all the centerpiece elements in a slow swirl, catching
light and shadow to paint and repaint the water’s surface.
    At a pause in his speech she nodded, barely curious about
what he’d said, the stillness taking hold was such a blessed escape from the
usual self-critical chatter at the back of her mind that she hardly dared to
breathe for fear it might slip away.
    When she finally did look up into his eyes, she wasn’t the
Allison Lila had made up for dinner, the one with hair curled and makeup
carefully applied. She wasn’t even Allie the ad writer in her shapeless
business suits. She was that wild and elemental soul he’d called up in the
woods that morning.
    He knew it too. It was there in his eyes, recognition, as if
he shared the same vision. His pupils had narrowed, his breath caught and he
broke off mid-sentence, lips still parted. He’d closed her fingers around the
stone. The stone was hot, hot enough to burn. She held tight.
    “Tell me all about pretending,” he said. His tone had a
lazy, dreamlike quality, like