Page 24 of Art of the Hunt
When he stepped outside, Artemis’s eyes lit up, and a smile graced her lips.
This is definitely one of those times.
Chapter Eight
He cleaned up nicely. Which was funny because all he’d done was exchange his ratty T-shirt and flannel for a polo that was likely from the same long-ago decade. But Artemis suspected he rarely wore it—it wasn’t frayed at the hem.
It was a nice color too. Complimented his skin tone. And his eyes.
Gods above—er, over there—she was acting like a silly girl with a new crush.
She didn’t hate the feeling.
Usually, when she was feeling horny, she sought out a guy to whom she was simply physically attracted. Preferably someone she didn’t even know. That way, there was no danger of a sexual encounter becoming anything beyond exactly that.
This whole fraternizing of friendship and attraction and desiring to work with the man was distracting, to say the least.
She drove them to her hotel, where she was all too conscious of the fact that Hunter was out of his element. Discomfort radiated off him in palpable waves.
“You’re a police officer,” she pointed out as they rode the elevator up to the penthouse suite. “Aren’t you used to dealing with people from every walk of life?”
He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the shiny wall, doing a lousy job of pretending to be casual. “People from this walk of life, when they get into trouble, it tends to be big enough to involve the feds.”
“The feds?”
“Bigger, more powerful law enforcement than a lowly detective from the south side of Chicago.”
The doors whooshed open, and she stepped out into the hall. “What types of trouble do they deal with?”
She could feel his gaze on her as she headed toward her suite.
“I don’t think I’m going to tell you. If you don’t already know, that’s for the best. The last thing we all need is for you to go off and harass some federal agent the way you’ve been harassing me.”
She used the app on her phone to unlock the door, and then flung around to face him. “You think I harass you?”
He was closer than she expected. So close, in fact, that her heartrate kicked into overdrive as he leaned forward, and for a hot second she thought he was about to kiss her. She held her breath, and then he reached behind her and twisted the knob and pushed the door open.
She almost fell backward in her haste to step away, to put space between them, to get her breathing and blood pressure under control. Not that she had to worry about having an attack or anything, but yeesh, this distortion to her senses was uncomfortable.
“You okay?” he asked, his brow furrowed as he watched her.
She shook her head. “Fine. Let me…go change.”
She bolted, leaving him to wander about the massive suite that was at least twice the size and three hundred times as opulent as his apartment.
She barreled straight ahead to the en suite bath and leaned over the sink, splashing cold water on her face. Gods, if she were a middle-aged human woman, she’d assume she was having a hot flash at the moment.
But she wasn’t. She was a three-thousand-year-old god. So what was her problem?
It was that man out there. Funny that he claimed she harassed him. His very presence harassed her. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was Orion incarnated.
Wait. She didn’t know better.
Shit. Was that possible?
She stared at her reflection in the mirror.
Who was she kidding? She was a freaking god. She knew damn well it was entirely possible.
