held his stare but kept her lashes low. The large clock she’d salvaged from an
about-to-be demolished railway station was supposed to be soundless. She’d never heard
it before. But its tick, as ominous as a tap-dancing deathwatch beetle, now scratched
at her eardrums.
“I’ve reconsidered,” Anna said. “ I’ll move into any safe house you designate, but alone.”
“Uh-uh,” Nick interrupted with a shake of his head. “Will’s right. We need to conserve
resources. Fortress is off the case. The Service has taken over. And you can stop
looking so desperate, Anna, it’s insulting. I’m moving in, so get used to it.”
“We tried living together once before, Nick, and look what a disaster that turned
out to be. The only thing that held us together was…” In the one and only time her
head had ever skipped ahead of her tongue, she swallowed what she’d been about to
say.
Thank God, Will had retreated to the other end of the loft and was now pretending
an interest in her bookcase.
“Were you about to say ‘great sex’ again? You didn’t hold back last time. But just
so we’re clear, I’m moving in, but not to share your bed. At least, not without an
invitation, and you’re blushing, Anna.”
Jesus, she’d never been able to handle Nick in predatory mode, and the damn man was
actually enjoying her discomfort. “Really? I wonder why? God, of all the presumptuous,
insensitive, arrogant—I was going to say ancient history.”
He grinned and shook his head. “Liar. I was bang on target the first time, no pun
intended.”
Will coughed and flapped the lapels of his jacket. “Feeling decidedly uncomfortable
here, people. Way too hot for me. Forensics left five minutes ago, and I believe I’ll
join them. You two obviously have a few ground rules to discuss, and I really don’t
need to be a party to them.”
“You embarrassed Will,” she accused hotly as her front door closed with a snick .
“No, I embarrassed you. Will could barely contain his laughter. By the morning he’ll
be running a bet at the Cube as to which one of us survives this arrangement.”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“Yeah, he would, even if just to recoup his losses.”
Either she was going crazy or she’d shifted to a parallel plane. Nothing made sense.
“He’s done it before? What was the wager?”
“On how long our marriage would last. He’s a romantic; he said forever, and he lost
his shirt.”
Before he ducked his head and pretended a fascination in the antique Persian rug beneath
his boots, she could have sworn she caught a flicker of regret, maybe even pain, flit
across his face.
Chapter Seven
Slouching, a large notebook resting on his up-bended knees, Nick adjusted his long
frame to ease the nagging protest of his coccyx. Anna’s sofa was too just damned soft
and deep for his liking. Especially when he deserved to be lying on a bed of glass.
The shards pointing upward, lacerating his back.
He’d hurt her repeatedly tonight. With his words, with his aggression, with a cruelty
he despised. Why, when what he’d really wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and
promise to keep her from hurt and harm forever?
But she made him feel things—alive for a start—he didn’t want to feel. She made him
long for things he had no place coveting. Like a special intimacy with a soul mate
that far transcended base physical need. But love never walked alone. The threat of
loss always followed close behind. And, damn it, he wasn’t strong enough to go through
that again. So he’d pushed her away, and he’d keep pushing. Not that she made it easy.
Dangerous, too-hot thoughts of Anna all warm, soft, and tousled in a bed so close
to his own—even though two walls separated them—had driven him to abandon all hope
of sleep. Eventually he given up, stumbled his way to her sitting room, and proceeded
to mentally grouch his way through too many mugs of
about-to-be demolished railway station was supposed to be soundless. She’d never heard
it before. But its tick, as ominous as a tap-dancing deathwatch beetle, now scratched
at her eardrums.
“I’ve reconsidered,” Anna said. “ I’ll move into any safe house you designate, but alone.”
“Uh-uh,” Nick interrupted with a shake of his head. “Will’s right. We need to conserve
resources. Fortress is off the case. The Service has taken over. And you can stop
looking so desperate, Anna, it’s insulting. I’m moving in, so get used to it.”
“We tried living together once before, Nick, and look what a disaster that turned
out to be. The only thing that held us together was…” In the one and only time her
head had ever skipped ahead of her tongue, she swallowed what she’d been about to
say.
Thank God, Will had retreated to the other end of the loft and was now pretending
an interest in her bookcase.
“Were you about to say ‘great sex’ again? You didn’t hold back last time. But just
so we’re clear, I’m moving in, but not to share your bed. At least, not without an
invitation, and you’re blushing, Anna.”
Jesus, she’d never been able to handle Nick in predatory mode, and the damn man was
actually enjoying her discomfort. “Really? I wonder why? God, of all the presumptuous,
insensitive, arrogant—I was going to say ancient history.”
He grinned and shook his head. “Liar. I was bang on target the first time, no pun
intended.”
Will coughed and flapped the lapels of his jacket. “Feeling decidedly uncomfortable
here, people. Way too hot for me. Forensics left five minutes ago, and I believe I’ll
join them. You two obviously have a few ground rules to discuss, and I really don’t
need to be a party to them.”
“You embarrassed Will,” she accused hotly as her front door closed with a snick .
“No, I embarrassed you. Will could barely contain his laughter. By the morning he’ll
be running a bet at the Cube as to which one of us survives this arrangement.”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“Yeah, he would, even if just to recoup his losses.”
Either she was going crazy or she’d shifted to a parallel plane. Nothing made sense.
“He’s done it before? What was the wager?”
“On how long our marriage would last. He’s a romantic; he said forever, and he lost
his shirt.”
Before he ducked his head and pretended a fascination in the antique Persian rug beneath
his boots, she could have sworn she caught a flicker of regret, maybe even pain, flit
across his face.
Chapter Seven
Slouching, a large notebook resting on his up-bended knees, Nick adjusted his long
frame to ease the nagging protest of his coccyx. Anna’s sofa was too just damned soft
and deep for his liking. Especially when he deserved to be lying on a bed of glass.
The shards pointing upward, lacerating his back.
He’d hurt her repeatedly tonight. With his words, with his aggression, with a cruelty
he despised. Why, when what he’d really wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and
promise to keep her from hurt and harm forever?
But she made him feel things—alive for a start—he didn’t want to feel. She made him
long for things he had no place coveting. Like a special intimacy with a soul mate
that far transcended base physical need. But love never walked alone. The threat of
loss always followed close behind. And, damn it, he wasn’t strong enough to go through
that again. So he’d pushed her away, and he’d keep pushing. Not that she made it easy.
Dangerous, too-hot thoughts of Anna all warm, soft, and tousled in a bed so close
to his own—even though two walls separated them—had driven him to abandon all hope
of sleep. Eventually he given up, stumbled his way to her sitting room, and proceeded
to mentally grouch his way through too many mugs of
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