Night Game (GhostWalkers, #3)(32)

“To get me to go back with you. I’m never going back with you, not for any reason. You’re a smart man. Do you think the government and Whitney are going to sink millions of dollars into experimental weapons and then just let them run around loose? You aren’t that stupid. You’re either up to your neck swimming in their cesspool or you’ve been brainwashed.”

“You could be wrong, you know,” Gator pointed out. “You might consider that.”

“You might consider that Lily wasn’t the only one of us with an enormous IQ. If

I’m wrong, why do we have this thing between us?” She stuck her chin in the air and fiddled with the edges of her scarf, but her gaze was steady on his, almost a challenge.

“Which thing? The knife? The bike? The baby? Or the sexual attraction that, quite frankly, might be off the Richter scale?”

“The sexual attraction. That’s what’s really making you so angry, isn’t it? You don’t trust it any more than I do. And you’re angry with me for making you feel the way you do.”

“Yeah. Maybe. But I’m not the only one royally pissed about it,” he pointed out.

“You’re right, I don’t like it. I don’t trust you. Why the hell would I feel attracted to you?”

“My charm and good looks.”

“You aren’t that charming. And you have the despicable reputation of being a hound dog. I know because I asked around and your grandmother told me.”

“No doubt to endear me further to you.”

She narrowed her gaze. “You’re a breaker of hearts. A rake and a playboy.” She made a face. “A disgusting playboy who isn’t even concerned with safety issues.”

“Grand-mere didn’t say that, did she?”

She smirked at him. “Well, you got me pregnant, didn’t you?”

A faint smile stole over his face. “I guess I did. I’m potent. Even from a distance.”

“That’s a scary thought. Do you really know Joy Chiasson?”

“Yes. You can ask Grand-mere Nonny all about her tomorrow when you show up for tea. Our families have been friends for years.”

Flame spread her hands out. “So what are we doing out here in the middle of the night?”

“We’re talking truce, cher.” His slow smile matched the warm molasses in his drawl.

“Don’t you think before we talk truce it would be a gesture of good faith to give me back my motorcycle?”

“Have you shoved my brother’s Jeep into the Mississippi yet?”

“That was on the schedule for tonight.”

“It’s my brother’s Jeep,” he reminded her, fingertips tracing the smudges on her throat. “Not mine. I just borrowed it.”

“Bad decision on his part to lend it to you.”

His eyes darkened as his gaze drifted over her throat. “I’m sorry about this, cher. I could kiss it better for you.”

She remained absolutely still beneath his touch, her heart beginning to hammer in time to the blood roaring through her veins. The heat of the bayou enveloped them in the perfume of the night and the rich rhythm of life. “You aren’t going to seduce me into cooperating with you and, if you try, the Jeep definitely goes into the Mississippi.”

“It was a bad decision on his part to lend it to me.” Gator murmured the words against her soft throat, his body pressed against hers, although he didn’t wrap his arms around her. He simply stood leaning into her, the warmth of his breath touching her skin.

She swallowed hard when his lips pressed against her throat, feather-light, velvet soft. “So you’re willing to sacrifice the Jeep.”

“Damn straight, mon petite enflamme. No sacrifice is too great.” His tongue swirled over the dark smudges as if to soothe them.

Her breath left her body in a little concentrated rush. “Well then, you’d better do a very thorough job.”

He lifted his head, his gaze sweeping over her face. “When I kiss you, what exactly are you planning to do?” Raw huskiness mixed with suspicion in his voice.

She could barely breathe. She had an unfamiliar urge to circle his neck with her arms and press her body tightly against his. “You said no sacrifice was too great,” she reminded.

“That’s when I thought the sacrifice was going to be my brother’s Jeep. Now, I think you have something else in mind. What are you planning to do?”

“Retrieve my knife, of course,” she answered honestly.

His head bent an inch lower until she could feel the velvet of his lips brushing hers. “You don’t think I can distract you?”

“You’ve been distracting me all evening, but no, if you kiss me, the knife is definitely back in my possession.”

He ached to kiss her. The temptation was overwhelming, but he wasn’t nearly as stupid as she thought him. Reluctantly he stepped back away from her, a faint smile on his face. “Cher, we’ve got us a problem.”

Her gaze brushed the front of his jeans. “You more than me.”

His eyes darkened. “Oh, I don’ think so, mon amour, and if you want me to prove it to you, just come closer and let me touch you.”

“Try it and I’ll definitely slap your face.”

His grin widened. “You are wet for me, aren’t you, cher?”