An Unforgettable Lady (An Unforgettable Lady #1)(48)

When he didn't say anything, she cleared her throat. "Er—the shower?"

She pointed behind her with a thumb.

He didn't reply, just continued staring at her in the glass.

Her skin prickled in awareness as he remained silent. There was something different about him this morning, she thought.

When he finally turned around, his expression shocked her. There was heat in it, the kind of burning intensity she hadn't seen since the night she'd stopped him. She thought about his body against hers and what it had felt like to be touched by him. His eyes focused on her lips, as if he was thinking about the same thing.

When he crossed the room in long strides, she felt herself bracing for contact with him, ready for it.

“I’ll make it quick," he said as he came up to her.

The letdown was tremendous. She'd been sure he was going to take her into his arms and she tried to cover her disappointment by smiling nonchalantly.

But then he paused on his way by and bent his head down to her ear. "Happy birthday, Grace."

His breath brushed against her neck and she felt him run a forefinger down her cheek.

Electricity jolted through her and she gasped.

To her frustration, though, he just continued down the hall.

Feeling like she'd been tackled from behind, Grace sat down in a chair, wondering what in the hell all that was about. And why he hadn't followed through on what his eyes were promising her.



She frowned. How had he known it was her birthday?

Her eyes restlessly moved around the room as she tried to deal with her confusion. And then she saw, face open on the couch, her diary.

Oh, God.

She went over and looked at what he must have read.

Yup. Her little birthday wish.

Grace grimaced, feeling like a fool.

A wrinkle in time, she thought, closing the cover. That's what she needed. So she could go back to three o'clock in the morning and remember to take the thing down the hall with her.

A wrinkle in time or half an ounce of common sense.





chapter

12





Standing in the shower, Smith let the water run down over his head and his shoulders. It was hot enough to sting his skin but he needed some distraction and physical pain was always a good one.

He'd been lying in bed and staring up at the ceiling in the dark as she'd left her room the night before. When she came back down the hall, the pause she had taken in front of his door had been a temptation he'd barely resisted. He could still feel the sheet balled up in his fist as he'd let her go to her bedroom alone.

As soon as she'd settled down, it was his turn to pace around the penthouse. While walking from room to room, he'd thought about the fact that they were both sleepless and edgy although not necessarily for the same reason. That hesitation in his doorway could have been because of fear, but he wanted to believe there was another reason for it. He wanted to believe she couldn't sleep because she was as sexually frustrated as he was.

It was right about then that he'd passed by the couch and saw a small book lying face up on the cushion. He'd bent over, looked at the elegant, neat script, and smiled when he finished reading it.

He'd love to be her goddamn birthday present.

Smith turned up the water a little hotter.

Christ, he thought. He wanted her. And, in spite of the fact that she'd pulled away before, she obviously still wanted him. What would be so wrong if they gave in to the urge? Just once?

Okay, it violated every professional standard he'd ever set for himself. But he was pretty goddamn tired of the frustration he was battling day and night.

Smith braced his arms against the marble wall and leaned in, feeling the muscles in his back stretch and the water hit behind his neck.

He liked clear divisions. Safe and dangerous. Smart and stupid. He'd always believed that life was pretty simple if you took care of business and made the right choices. It wasn't as if right and wrong were hard to discern.

For example, sleeping with a client was both dangerous and stupid.

Smith turned and let the jets pound into his back. He rolled his shoulders around, trying to loosen the tension, even though he knew it wasn't going to do any good. Nothing had eased him recently and he could feel the pressure building in his body. He suspected that the only release would be spending a night in bed with Grace.

Or maybe a week.

At least he'd know she was safe from the killer, he thought grimly.

As he stepped from the shower, the tactician in him came out. What he needed to do was assess the situation dispassionately. Review the assets and liabilities. Plan for conflict.

He'd been a Ranger, for God's sake. He was trained to reason himself out of no-win situations.

Smith turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. Picking up a towel, he started to dry off.

She wanted him. He felt the same way. Those were assets.

All right, maybe assets wasn't the right word. But it was reality.

He moved on to liabilities. That list was much longer.

First, there was the professional relationship. Waking up next to a client had sure as hell never been a career goal. He knew damn well that sex always carried with it the risk of emotional involvement on the woman's side but this was especially true when it came to someone he protected. It wasn't that he was such a great catch but people in vulnerable situations could easily get attached to their protector and sex would only encourage the inappropriate connection.