Claimed by Cammie Eicher Page A

shine.”
    “No.” A yawn muffled her words. “Don’t wanna get up.”
    “Do what you want, but according to the white board on that wall, there’s a staff meeting at seven. You may not want that big guy sitting on you.”
    Chiana answered with another yawn and a kick that sent the blanket flying. She sat up and yawned once more before reaching for her boots. Creed headed for the adjacent bathroom to give her privacy. When he returned, she was ready for the day and flipping through the books to the various pages he’d marked with paper clips he’d filched from a desktop. She stopped when she saw him.
    “I’m sure the food here is okay, but I’m starving,” she said. “Whatever was in that new stuff of Doc’s has jacked up my metabolism. What say we get out of here?”
    “Okay.” Creed pulled his wallet from his pocket and took out a fifty-dollar bill. He stuck it under a lamp on the desk near the door, picked up the books and said, “Let’s roll. I want to be in those caves long before evening.”
    Linking her hands behind her back, Chiana stretched; she held so long Creed thought he heard her shoulders pop. He watched as she released the hold and lunged left, then right with her long and limber legs. Apparently his recliner had been more comfortable than the couch he’d given to her.
    “Can we walk?” Chiana pointed to a neon sign shining through the dim dawn light. “I’m already claustrophobic, and I’m not even cooped in that tin box with wheels yet.”
    Creed looked around. The sidewalks were empty, and traffic was light at this hour. The restaurant she’d spotted was a chain twenty-four-hour pancake place. Even Chiana should get enough carbs there. What he needed was caffeine and lots of it.
    “Let’s go.” He draped his arm around her shoulders as a reminder that he was still in charge. When she didn’t protest or pull away, he wondered whether she simply wanted human contact or if she was beginning to realize who the boss was.
    They were greeted by a sign reading Please seat yourself when they walked through the plate glass door. Creed headed toward a booth in a corner; walls on two sides suited him perfectly. He sat where he could watch both the entrance and what was happening outside the big window.
    If their server was surprised when Chiana ordered the hungry farmer breakfast of three eggs, sausage and bacon, pancakes, fried potatoes and biscuits and gravy, then added a side order of chocolate chip waffles, the woman managed to hide it well. Creed ordered an omelet and breakfast steak; he needed protein as much as Chiana needed carbohydrates.
    “Coffee first,” he said, “and keep it coming.”
    “Milk,” Chiana added to her order, “two glasses right now and one when my food comes.”
    She downed the first glass in one long drink then polished off the second one a little more slowly. Creed noticed that once she had something with substance fueling her, her demeanor was calmer. The metabolic burn rate was off the charts. He decided to stock up on food before they left town. The last thing he wanted was for her to wind up hungry and weak when she needed to be in fighting—or at least escaping—shape.
    The smallish restaurant filled slowly. Creed decided that despite everything they’d gone through, including sleeping in their clothes, they must still look okay. Either that or the early-morning clientele was on the scruffy side, and they appeared absolutely normal to them.
    “Did you find anything good?” Chiana waved a hand toward the small stack of books.
    “Couple of things.” Creed flipped to a marked page and shoved the volume toward her. “This is pretty interesting.”
    He watched her face tighten as she read the paragraphs he pointed to. Until he’d read them himself sometime after midnight, he hadn’t considered the state of her hymen. Now knowing if she was a virgin was of paramount importance. Her cheeks reddened, but he wasn’t sure whether from anger or