Hell on Wheels (Black Knights Inc. #1)(35)

Whoa. Not good. And getting not gooder by the minute.

Not gooder? His brain was ceasing to function.

“Uh…”

Now she was standing in front of him, so close he could sense the soft feminine heat rolling off her body in gentle waves, and smell the sweet aroma of her honeysuckle shampoo mixed with the scent of Ivory soap on her skin.

Where was that humming coming from? Was all his blood rushing to his head?

“Uh…” And what was the question? He swallowed and tried to drag in a much needed lungful of O2. Was it just him, or were the walls closing in?

“It’s a bit strange, don’t you think?” she asked.

Yeah, it was all very, very strange. Strange that she was here in Chicago. Strange that she was being chased by some spook. Strange that Grigg had put her in the position to be chased by some spook. Strange that she was standing half dressed in his bedroom. His. Bedroom.

Strange that she was looking up at him imploringly instead of watching him like a mouse might watch a hungry hawk. Not to mention the fact that he felt very, very strange. Like maybe he was about to pass out. Bam! Down for the count. And wouldn’t that impress upon her what a macho man he really was?

“Ali—”

“What?”

Yeah, what? What was he about to say? Get out, maybe? Get naked? That was much more likely.

He simply shook his head. “Nothin’.”

“Back to playing the strong, handsome, silent type?” she asked, her head tipped teasingly to the side.

“Handsome?” She though he was handsome? Not that he should be too surprised, he supposed. He was no Brad Pitt, but he wasn’t necessarily Quasimodo either.

She shrugged. “Of course. You do know you’re, like…sorta drop-dead hot, right?”

Did he? Maybe once, years ago when he’d been young and carefree. Innocent of the world. But not now. Not with the years spent battling the elements. Not after having carried around the weight of what he’d been forced to do three months ago. He felt like an old man.

“Wow,” she shook her head, clearly surprised. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

“That you’re beautiful.”

“Beautiful?” Okay, now he knew she was blowing smoke up his ass.

Because handsome he figured he could maybe understand. Women were strangely wonderful in that they liked a little character in a man’s face.

Drop-dead hot was probably pushing things a bit. But beautiful? Huh-uh, no way.

“Yes,” she slid her tongue into her cheek, her eyes bright with amusement as she leaned toward him. “Men can be beautiful.”

He laughed even as his spine snapped ruler-straight. He clasped his hands behind his back, gritting his teeth with the effort not to reach out and touch her. She muddled his thinking on a good day. And now, standing so close, especially when she lifted a hand toward his face? Well, that caused all conscious thought to stop dead in its tracks. Every single cell inside his body focused with a capital F on the feel of her sweet, pink-tipped fingers.

“Nate?”

When she said his name like that, he wanted to take on the world. “Hmm?”

“You just laughed.”

“I do that on occasion.” He used to do it all the time when Grigg was alive. The exasperating sonofabitch had done his level best to keep Nate in stitches. Of course, Ali wouldn’t know that. Anytime she was around him, he was usually concentrating so hard on not springing a boner that any attempt at appreciating humor was out of the question. Since Grigg’s death though, all the laughter had left him, flown away with Grigg’s last breath. But something about having Ali there made him feel…lighter. Dare he admit it? Maybe even a teensy bit happy?

“Nate?”

Scratch that. He didn’t just want to take on the world when she said his name like that, he wanted to take on the whole friggin’ galaxy. “Yeah?”

“I’m touching you.”

No doubt about that. The baseball bat he was trying to conceal behind his zipper was testimony enough. “I noticed.”

“You’re not jerking away. Acting like I’m carrying around a double whammy of hepatitis and bubonic plague.”

Double whammy of…he could only shake his head and fight a grin. She was simply adorable. No bones about it. And, yeah, that warm feeling slowly seeping through his veins could only be happiness. He remembered the sensation…vaguely. “What are you jabbering on about now, woman?”

“That fact that you don’t like for me to touch you.”

Was she insane?

“You don’t like it when I touch you, do you?” she asked.

“I never said that,” he muttered through clenched teeth because she was in the process of running her hands over his shoulders. Was it possible to feel happiness while in the midst of being killed?

“Then why have you always gone out of your way to avoid any physical contact with me? We’ve known each other for…well, sometimes it seems like forever. You’re like a second son to my parents. You grab up my mom and hug her until she’s giggling and ruffling your hair. Even that awkward male combination handshake-hug thing you do with my dad proves you’re not allergic to human touch. And you and Grigg had your arms thrown around each other’s shoulders so often mom sometimes called you the USMC’s only set of Siamese twins—attached at the armpit. But all I ever got was a tip of the chin, if that. So what gives? Why do you turn sideways when we pass each other in the hallway?”