Seek and Destroy (30 page)

    "And that would do what?"

    "Fries it. The laptop will be worthless. If the scrambler is connected, the charge will take that out, too."

    That little tidbit gave him a sigh of relief. "So, what now?"

    "I've left all the tracers out there. Every site I know of, and a few I didn't until tonight. There is nowhere he can go inside the system I won't know about." She yawned and stretched. "I need a shower."

    "I'll watch the monitors. You go."

    With a crooked grin, she looked up at him. The look she gave him hit him straight in the chest. He felt an overwhelming pull, an electrical surge that shot all the way down to his semi-hard cock. "And if we get a hit? Will you know what to do?"

    He grabbed his glass and pulled a drink. "Nope."

    She spiked a brow and adjusted her glasses. "Then no need for you to watch the monitors. Besides, if we get a hit, my system will begin the trace. He won't be able to go anywhere without us knowing his every move. So now," she sighed and yawned again. "We wait."

    

    

    Charis stared at her foggy reflection in the mirror. Her hair, still damp from her shower, hung loosely down past her shoulders, tickling where her robe didn't cover, soaking through where it did come in contact with the silky material. The little black robe stopped mid-thigh and felt incredible against her skin. She found it buried in the back of the closet, since she'd never had reason to wear it.

    She ran her fingers through her hair, knowing a comb would never do the trick and a brush would just break off her ends. Making a mental note to run out and pick up a few supplies tomorrow-she'd never had a male houseguest before-she gave herself another assessment. "This isn't a relationship," she told the anxious reflection. Her nipples puckered in protest. Apparently they thought differently. "And he is not staying over like a boyfriend would."

    This time her body argued by tingling, warming to the thought of them spending another night together and sending a shiver ripping through her.

    "Besides," she reassured the woman behind the foggy glass, ignoring the growing want for the man somewhere on the other side of the door. Applying lotion to her freshly shaved legs, she continued. "You told him no more sex, remember?"

    Well, elevator-incident aside. The memory of how fast he made her come had her burn, half in mortification, half in the want for him to do it again.

    Should she wear clothes to bed? Should she not? Rubbing lotion into her elbows, then her arms, then her shoulders, she thought about calling David in to rub some on her back. Knowing where that led the last time she asked him to rub anything on her back made her skin prickle with the memory.

    After finishing with the lotion, she drew in a deep breath and let it out. Not sure what to do next, she slowly opened the bathroom door and peeked out. She didn't see him anywhere, which sent her insides into a fit of hiccups. She walked out and padded down the hall into the kitchen. The floor felt cold and hard against her bare feet. Another mental note-pull her slippers out of the back of her closet. No one in their right mind lived through a Montana winter without a good pair of insulated deerskins. She wondered if David wore slippers.

    She flipped the gas on the front burner and went in search of her teapot. A nice cup of steaming hot tea would be perfect after such a long and trying day. Day? Try week. She wasn't used to so much action.

    Action? Interesting way to put it. Her body throbbed in anticipation of David finding her in her little silk robe, of his hands on her body, him ripping it off her and taking her right there in her kitchen.

    Another shiver pinched her nipples into hard little pebbles. She had to stop thinking like that. He made it very clear while they worked on this op they would not be fornicating. Period and the end.

    Opening and closing just about every cupboard in her kitchen, she came up empty-handed. Just where did she put that darn thing? She huffed and got down on her knees to dig through the cabinets. There had to be something she could use to boil water if her elusive teapot refused to come out of hiding.

    "Finally!" She pulled out her teapot with a triumphant smile. "Ah hah. You thought you could evade me, my little friend." Her mood picking up, she filled the pot and placed it over the blue flame.

    "Who are you talking to?"

    She whipped around, her heart thudding from the fright. When she spotted David standing there, looking so damn mouth-watering, she had to swallow. "Where did you come from?"

    "The bedroom." He rubbed his eyes and let out an enormous yawn. Stretching his left side, then wincing as he attempted to stretch out his right, he slipped onto the barstool at the island and rested his head on his hands, his elbows on the counter.

    "Were you sleeping?" He didn't answer, and didn't need to. His disheveled hair and wrinkled clothes told her as much. With heavy-lidded eyes he stared straight ahead and let out another jaw-popping yawn. "You look like you must have been dead to the world."

    "You were making enough noise to wake the dead," he threw back, his voice gruff.

    
Okaaay
. So Mr. Grumpy did not like to be woken up. Good to know. "I promise to be quieter. Go back to bed." Disappointed to say the least, she hid her reaction from him. The thought of going to bed with him tonight had her insides humming with energy. The connection they share couldn't be denied, and she hoped it would be enough for them to have a repeat performance of Hawaii.

    Obviously she was alone with that one. He didn't even notice her in her little silky number. It made her feel damn sexy, and hoped it would do the trick. At least make him notice her. Acknowledge her.
Something
.

    Apparently not.

    "I'm up now. What time is it?"

    "Almost ten-thirty."

    He blew out a breath. "What are you doing?"

    "Making tea. You want some?"

    He shook his head, turned and studied the room behind them. Charis did the same. Her front door opened to a mudroom, which opened to a short hall. A few more steps and you found the living room off to the left. To the right the formal dining room, which opened to the kitchen. The island had two steps, the lower level housed the gas stove, the upper an extended breakfast bar. The hall to the right led down to the two bedrooms.

    "What do you think of my house?"

    He grunted and turned back around. "It's a house."

    She ignored his terseness. "I love it. I've been thinking about painting the living room, though." The carpet, off-white and boring as hell, matched the off-white walls and the off-white ceiling. Even the trim matched in off-white. It looked so neat and orderly, just the way the
old
Charis liked it. After the past week, she was so done with the
old
Charis. The
new
Charis wanted bold colors.

    "Good. The color scheme you have needs some work. It looks like a hospital in here." He looked at her. "Unless you really have a thing about playing a doctor."

    She thinned her lips at his comment. How could he make fun of her assignment as his personal physician? She saved his life, damn it! He could at least show some gratitude.

    Her water started to boil. Before she grabbed another pot and smacked the ass over the head with it, she wrapped her fingers around the one on the stove and jerked it off the burner.

    And promptly kicked boiling water all over her hand and up her forearm. She gasped at the pain, dropped the pot, which splashed boiling water up and down her freshly shaved legs. She cried out and jumped back. She then screamed when the oils from the lotion took the heat in and started to cook her flesh. The intense pain made her scream again.

    David had her in his arms and inside the bathroom before she took her next breath. He dropped her unceremoniously into the tub and turned on the shower, cranking the knob all the way to the 'C'.

    She screamed again, tried to get up. He pushed her back down. "Stay. The cold water will counteract the burn."

    "D-D-David. I-I'm f-f-freezing!" Now not only did her skin feel raw from the fresh burn, the cold water peppered her with painful goose bumps.

    "Just a few more minutes. You'll thank me later."

    "I d-doubt t-t-that." She felt her flesh going numb from the icy pricks of water beating against her. "P-Please!"

    "A little longer."

    She looked up at him and felt like screaming again. The jerk had the biggest grin on his face. "T-Turn it o-off!"

    "A little-whoa!"

    She got a hold of the front of his pants and pulled him in on top of her. Ahhh. Warmth. They then both broke into a fit of giggles as the freezing water soaked them to the core.

    "This," she snuggled closer to him, using his hard body as a shield from the water, "is much better."

    "So says you." He tried to push back, reaching for the knob with his right shoulder since he needed his left to hold his weight. The stiffness from his injury prevented him from reaching it. He tried again, this time tightening his face to cover the obvious pain it caused. Muttering a curse when he couldn't reach it, David paused and pulled his arm back.

    "I can get it," Charis offered.

    "I got it." He bit back, pissed. His left arm had started to shake as he struggled to hold himself up. He shifted and reached for the knob. His right shoulder had completely stiffened up on him.

    "It must be the cold-"

    He turned and eyed her. The look caused her breath to catch, her words to pause in her throat.

    Shame.
Oh, David
. He looked like she'd just discovered his deepest darkest secret. She let him go and he pushed himself off her, turned and flipped off the water. Without looking at her, he spun on his heel and left the room.

    She waited another minute or so before pulling herself out of the tub. She looked down at the pile of black silk. Another little sexy outfit bites the dust. Why did she always end up in the water?

    Wanting to run to wherever he disappeared to, but knowing that he wouldn't want her to see him like that, she grabbed another thirsty towel out of the linen closet and went about drying herself off.

    The burns hurt, but she'd manage. The cold-water trick really did work. She opened and closed her right hand, studying the redness of her skin where the water had burned her. It didn't look deep enough to be serious, thank God.

    She wrapped the towel around her like a strapless dress and headed for the bedroom to change. Her heart skipped when she entered. He'd already peeled out of his wet clothes and had on the bottoms to a pair of plaid flannel pajamas, the silky curls of his chest hair still glistening from the water. He sat in the chair facing the closet and when he spotted her in the full-length mirror, looked away.

    Oh, David. She turned and spotted the top on the bed. Not wanting to ask him where the flannel PJs came from, and fighting the urge to rush over to him, she went to the bed and threw the top over her head. She'd just as soon run around naked. But if she did, he'd see her scars on her torso and curl his lip in disgust. She couldn't bare him to look at her like her previous lovers.

    After dropping the towel to the floor, she glanced back over her shoulder. He just sat there, looking so beaten she felt beaten, too.

    Without another thought, she went to him, placed her hand on his right shoulder. He dropped his eyes, tried to move his shoulder out of her grasp. The frigid water worked against him, it seemed, as his mobility visibly decreased. He couldn't even move far enough to be free from her hand.

    "Don't." He grabbed her hand, jerked it off his shoulder.

    "Let me help you."

    "I don't need your goddamn sympathy."

    Oh, it broke her heart to see him hurting like this. "I don't feel sorry for you," she lied. He looked up into the mirror, met her eyes, searching for the meaning in her words. "I took a massage course in college. Let me see if I can get it to loosen up."

    He let her hand go. She got to work, gently massaging his shoulder, caressing his flesh, all the while trying to keep herself from humming at the feeling of being skin on skin with him. "My burns feel better."

    He grunted and closed his eyes. She felt some of his muscles spasm before letting go. "Ah, yeah. That's it. Jesus, Charis. That feels amazing."

    You're telling me. Her body ached for him to massage her, wanting his focus to be on the crux between her legs. "I got an 'A' in the class."

    "I can see why. Oh yeah. Right there. Now a little more-
riiight
there. Hmmm." He cracked a smile. Her heart lifted. "No one's ever offered to give me a massage before."

    She found that hard to swallow. Who wouldn't want to touch him, have an excuse to run their fingers over his amazing body? "I had an ex-boyfriend who hated my massages."

    Opening his eyes, he glanced up at her through the mirror. "Was he an idiot?"

    "Well," she stated with a smile. "Yes. But that aside, he said it hurt."

    "Like the delicate pretty boy type, do you?"

    She licked her lips to stop herself from dribbling right down her chin. The touch of his skin against hers caused little electric jolt of energy to surge through her limbs, centering in her core. No, she liked the Super Spy type. She liked the mocha-haired, sexy brown-eyed type.

    Her entrance swelled, softened. The juices flowing, lubricating her for him, had her so wet she clenched her muscles. Without panties to hold in any of the dewiness, she'd be in trouble in a matter of minutes, if that.

    "He was the only one, though. All the rest liked them."