Page 53 of Hunted

“We don’t have time,” he told her. Her brown eyes pleaded with him, and his granite heart turned to mush.

“We can’t leave until the roads are cleared anyway, can we? We used about all the gas in the snowmobile.”

He lowered his head. “They could be cleared momentarily.”

“If they are, we’ll leave then and I’ll read on the way.” She sighed heavily. “I’ve been through more in the past few days than I’ve had to deal with in a lifetime, Connor. I need a little normalcy to bolster me. I can’t just wade into that diary without something. A hot bath. A decent meal. A glass of wine. That’s all I’m asking for. Surely we have time for that.”

Connor fell into those velvety brown eyes and figured it would be as hard for White to reach them via snow-blocked roads as it would be for them to leave. “Go ahead, get your normalcy fix. The book will wait.”

Chapter Thirteen

But that wasn’t good enough for her, was it? Oh, no. Not for Lexi Stoltz, the nurturer. The woman who steadfastly defended a father who’d apparently treated her like dirt, and was now soothing the damned soul of a man beyond salvation.

It wasn’t enough for her to have her precious normalcy. She had to inflict it on him, as well. And dammit, it was hard enough being near her when people were shooting at them. This bull was almost impossible.

He was afraid she had a repeat of last night on her mind. But when she came down from her hour-long soak in the tub wearing sweats and a ponytail, he decided that theory might be off the mark. She’d suggested he take a bath, as well, but he’d settled for a quick shower. And when he’d rejoined her there was a fire snapping in the living room hearth. He knew it before he got to the foot of the stairs. He smelled the burning logs, heard the snapping and hissing of the resin.

And he smelled something else, too. Something spicy and Italian that made him hurry his pace. But he slowed it again when he saw the dancing candlelight in the living room. Half a dozen flickering tapers chased shadows up and down the walls.

He lifted his chin, swallowed hard. He didn’t want to go to bed with her again. Much as he’d denied it all day long, that first time had damn near shattered his sanity. It had been too intense. Too hot. Too frantic. And just too damned good.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about the way it had felt to hold her in his arms since. At least, not until he’d heard that voice on the lawyer’s answering machine. That voice had shocked him back to reality the way a pail of ice water would have.

How could he have forgotten so easily in Lexi’s arms?

It was wrong. And he wouldn’t let it happen again. He had to keep his focus, keep his hatred alive and burning.

She came in from the kitchen with a wineglass full of pale pink liquid in each hand. “Thought you could use a little relaxation, too.” She handed him one.

He took it, sipped it.

“Dinner’s almost ready. Pasta marinara.”

“You waxing domestic on me, Lexi?” His words came out sounding sarcastic and cold. She flinched and her lips thinned. But that wasn’t enough for the bastard inside him. “Look, I don’t know what you’re expecting this to lead to, but it’s not gonna be a repeat of last night. It can’t be that.”

The stricken look in her eyes faded fast. It was replaced by a look of fury. She snatched the wine glass out of his hand and, with a flick of her wrist, applied its contents to his face.

“It’s my house. If I feel like cooking, I’ll cook. If you don’t like it, you can always leave.”

Even as the last words left her mouth, she was leaving him there with wine dripping from his chin and burning his eyes. Maybe he was being just a little bit vain to assume seduction was what she had on her mind. But what the hell was he supposed to think?

He played with that idea for a while. Twenty minutes later she was back, a steaming plate of food in her hand, her wineglass brimming and the bottle tucked under her arm. There was more wine in her glass than there had been before, so she must be on her second. Or third.

She put the plate on the coffee table and sank onto the sofa, curling her legs under her body, drinking deeply from the glass.

“Don’t hit the wine too hard. We have to stay sharp.”

“You stay sharp,” she snapped. “And if you want to eat, do it in the kitchen. I know it’ll come as a shock, Romano, but I don’t want your company right now.”

He rose to the bait, though he should have known better. With a meaningful glance at the firelight and candles, he said, “You could have fooled me.”

“The fire and the candles are for my benefit, not yours. They soothe me when things are falling apart. You might recall I had a fire and candles burning that first night you showed up to rain chaos down on my life.”

She had a point. There had been candles glowing that night. And she hadn’t been seducing anyone then. He took a breath, thinking maybe he’d been mistaken.

“I’m sorry if I jumped to the wrong?—”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me. I really don’t.” She drained the wine, reached for the bottle, refilled her glass.

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