two cords of grainy muscles that disappeared behind his short collar, connecting with the framework of brawn she’d seen earlier.
Damn.
Mags stepped up to the mirror and immediately regretted the action. Her hair could house a family of raccoons with all its knots and fly-aways. Judging by the black smears around her eyes, she could join them. A red nose and flushed cheeks from crying, or embarrassment at her appearance, accentuated the blood red of her crusty upper lip. A lip that had nearly, or just barely, touched Law’s.
She started pulling pins from her fallen hair and set out to shower and make something presentable of herself. It took some scrubbing, some huddling in the corner to keep from flashing her generous ass, and some careful combing to straighten her hair without hurting her arm. But she rounded the partition about an hour later with a slow, confident gate. As assured as she could strive for in an unfamiliar place, wearing a cotton tank and shorts, wondering who in the world was after her, why, and who in the world her brother’s housemate actually worked for and if Baine was part of it too.
Magdalena’s head pounded from ramming into too many dead ends. Law didn’t look like he faired any better. His playful demeanor from earlier had vanished. In its place his expression bordered on harsh. The set of his jaw froze in flex. His gaze followed her, but never softened as she neared the bed. She sat her bag on the wooden floor at the end of the mattress and took another step, bringing her even with Law where he stood rigidly on the other side of the pallet.
“How’s your mum? Scared, I’m sure.”
“Nah, she’s pissed. Laird won’t let her go on her girls’ weekend to Hugh Town.”
“I’d boil too. It’s beautiful there. The ocean outside your window and the sand only a stroll away. I hate she can’t go because of me.”
“They’ll reschedule,” he said flatly. His gaze dropped to the bed then rose to her. “I’d offer to sleep on the floor, but I’m not that chivalrous. I need some sleep or I won’t be good for anything tomorrow.”
Her fingers knotted behind her back, but she bobbed her head. “It’s fine by me.”
“Yeah,” he growled. “Just stay on your side.”
Magdalena threw her hands up. “I’m not some perv who’s going to try and cop a feel while you’re dozing.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about,” he said.
The wide and wild range of her emotions over the past few hours looped her in a fair ground ride of uncertainty. Her right toe pivoted on the scuffed wood planks like it was trying to tunnel her way out of this awkward situation. “You no longer fancy an interrogation?”
“That’s not what I fancy at the moment,” he ground between closed teeth. He breathed and his mouth loosened slightly. “Just go to sleep. So I can.”
Magdalena flung herself onto the mattress like a cranky child, yanked at the covering, and curled into a ball beneath them, facing the wall. After a minute of struggling to convince her tears to evaporate, Law’s zipper moaned open. The sound of metal against metal perked her ears as he did something with those bloody guns that made her palms sweat. The room plunged into darkness. When the mattress sagged under his weight, her upper lip joined in the sweat fest.
How in the hell am I supposed to sleep?
Before long the tension seeped from her muscles and she stretched into her sleep pose. One arm straightened beneath the pillow. The other balled and tucked in the valley of her breasts. One leg elongated as long as the stubby thing would go toward the end of the bed while the other flamingoed out, snuggling the bed with her hips. Her eyes roved the stacks of books visible in the moonlight. And sleep came.
15
L aw one-armed the paper bag of groceries he’d amassed at the corner shop on the end of the street and opened the white door to his building. Showered and in real clothes after the best sleep he’d gotten in years,
Damn.
Mags stepped up to the mirror and immediately regretted the action. Her hair could house a family of raccoons with all its knots and fly-aways. Judging by the black smears around her eyes, she could join them. A red nose and flushed cheeks from crying, or embarrassment at her appearance, accentuated the blood red of her crusty upper lip. A lip that had nearly, or just barely, touched Law’s.
She started pulling pins from her fallen hair and set out to shower and make something presentable of herself. It took some scrubbing, some huddling in the corner to keep from flashing her generous ass, and some careful combing to straighten her hair without hurting her arm. But she rounded the partition about an hour later with a slow, confident gate. As assured as she could strive for in an unfamiliar place, wearing a cotton tank and shorts, wondering who in the world was after her, why, and who in the world her brother’s housemate actually worked for and if Baine was part of it too.
Magdalena’s head pounded from ramming into too many dead ends. Law didn’t look like he faired any better. His playful demeanor from earlier had vanished. In its place his expression bordered on harsh. The set of his jaw froze in flex. His gaze followed her, but never softened as she neared the bed. She sat her bag on the wooden floor at the end of the mattress and took another step, bringing her even with Law where he stood rigidly on the other side of the pallet.
“How’s your mum? Scared, I’m sure.”
“Nah, she’s pissed. Laird won’t let her go on her girls’ weekend to Hugh Town.”
“I’d boil too. It’s beautiful there. The ocean outside your window and the sand only a stroll away. I hate she can’t go because of me.”
“They’ll reschedule,” he said flatly. His gaze dropped to the bed then rose to her. “I’d offer to sleep on the floor, but I’m not that chivalrous. I need some sleep or I won’t be good for anything tomorrow.”
Her fingers knotted behind her back, but she bobbed her head. “It’s fine by me.”
“Yeah,” he growled. “Just stay on your side.”
Magdalena threw her hands up. “I’m not some perv who’s going to try and cop a feel while you’re dozing.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about,” he said.
The wide and wild range of her emotions over the past few hours looped her in a fair ground ride of uncertainty. Her right toe pivoted on the scuffed wood planks like it was trying to tunnel her way out of this awkward situation. “You no longer fancy an interrogation?”
“That’s not what I fancy at the moment,” he ground between closed teeth. He breathed and his mouth loosened slightly. “Just go to sleep. So I can.”
Magdalena flung herself onto the mattress like a cranky child, yanked at the covering, and curled into a ball beneath them, facing the wall. After a minute of struggling to convince her tears to evaporate, Law’s zipper moaned open. The sound of metal against metal perked her ears as he did something with those bloody guns that made her palms sweat. The room plunged into darkness. When the mattress sagged under his weight, her upper lip joined in the sweat fest.
How in the hell am I supposed to sleep?
Before long the tension seeped from her muscles and she stretched into her sleep pose. One arm straightened beneath the pillow. The other balled and tucked in the valley of her breasts. One leg elongated as long as the stubby thing would go toward the end of the bed while the other flamingoed out, snuggling the bed with her hips. Her eyes roved the stacks of books visible in the moonlight. And sleep came.
15
L aw one-armed the paper bag of groceries he’d amassed at the corner shop on the end of the street and opened the white door to his building. Showered and in real clothes after the best sleep he’d gotten in years,
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