Page 26 of The Agent
To break her own tension, she spoke out loud. “It would begoodif the stalker showed up. Then Tully could catch him and stop the torment.”
The sound of her voice steadied her. As did imagining Tully searching every room in the house to make sure she was safe. Until Tully walked back onto the porch with that smooth panther’s stride of his, looking hard and fearless and sexy as hell. Desire overlapped dread, so she couldn’t tell which one had a stronger hold on her.
She closed her eyes as she remembered how his big masculine hand had looked splayed on top of her velvet comforter.
Desire overwhelmed all else, sending a bolt of arousal through her body.
When he opened her car door, she wanted to hurl herself into his arms, to wrap herself in his strength and warmth. Instead, she took his hand to climb down from the SUV as though his presence was merely a convenience.
“The house appears undisturbed,” he said. “Not surprising, since he was focused on the salon and your car today.”
“I’d ask how he knows so much about my routine, but it’s not hard for someone to figure it out.” She made a wry face. “I don’t vary it much. Or ever.” She liked her predictable schedule. The salon gave her plenty of social interaction, after which she could retreat to the serenity of her quiet house to recharge.
He held the front door for her. “Exactly the opposite of what we advise our high-profile clients to do. They take different routes to work every day in different vehicles. They leave and come home at variable times. Predictability is a kidnapper’s—and a stalker’s—best friend.”
“I’d hate to be that rich and famous,” she said, dropping her purse on the foyer table while he locked the door. “Alice says even you and your partners take certain precautions.”
He placed her laptop case beside her purse. “Mostly because I’m professionally paranoid. And in some cases, I’ve been right.”
She’d just been making conversation until his hands were free. As he turned away from the foyer, she stepped into him so their bodies touched from knee to chest and skimmed her fingers up the ridged muscles of his arms and over his shoulders to tangle in the rough silk of his hair.
His eyes lit up as she lifted her face and tried to tug his head downward. But he stood straight with his arms at his sides again.
“Nat, I know we started something back at the salon, but I need to make sure I’m not taking advantage of what’s going on.” He cupped her shoulders to move her a few inches away from him. “Fear activates the fight-or-flight instinct. If you can’t fight and you can’t flee, the energy has to go somewhere.”
If she hadn’t felt him harden against her before he pushed her away, she might have considered this a rejection. “I know what I want,” she said, feathering her fingers along the rim of his ear. “I’ve known since we danced the two-step at the wedding.”
His eyebrows went up. “You hid it well.”
Because she had been battling against it with every ounce of her common sense. “I needed to be sure of who you are.”
“Sweetheart, you don’t know anything about me.” Shadows dimmed the blaze of his eyes.
“I know enough to do this.” She stood on the tiptoes of her ballerina flats and managed to reach his lips, flicking her tongue along the lower curve of the bottom one.
With a deep groan, he yanked her against him and lowered his mouth to hers. She felt like dry tinder touched by a torch as flames seared through her, turning liquid between her thighs.
He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and banded the other across her waist so that she felt engulfed by his body. Her nipples hardened against his chest, the pressure sending exquisite sensation sizzling along her nerves. She could smell the clean cotton of his shirt, the woodsy scent of his soap, and the deeply masculine tang of arousal on his skin.
He slid a hand up her back to tilt her head so he could kiss the soft spot behind her ear before he blew a breath on it. She arched into him as a delicious tingle danced over her skin. When her pelvis pushed into his erection, he moaned her name before he splayed his other hand over her butt and sank his fingers into the soft flesh to hold her hard against him.
She bent her knee and skimmed it up the outside of his thigh to press herself against the length of his cock outlined by the denim of his jeans. “The sofa,” she gasped as sparks shimmered through her belly.
“The bed. I want to do this right.” He tugged the gun out of his waistband and placed it on the table beside her purse. Even the grim reminder of her stalker couldn’t dim her desire.
Hooking one hand under her thigh, he lifted it higher. She took the hint and hopped so he could catch her other leg and bring it around his waist. Locking her ankles behind his back, she wound her arms around his neck to hold on as he headed for the stairs.
“Are you sure you can carry me up a whole flight of stairs?” she asked as he planted his boot on the first step.
“I could jog up the stairs with you, but I don’t want to make you nervous.” He squeezed her thigh as he walked steadily upward, his lips curling into a cocky smile.
“Am I supposed to swoon now?”
“That would be damn inconvenient since I want you awake and responsive for what I’m planning next.”
Anticipation bubbled through her like champagne. “Then don’t be so manly.”
He took one step past the top of the stairs before he locked eyes with her. “I’m pretty sure manly is a requirement here.”
