An Unforgettable Lady(58)

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.

And then there was the way he ran his personal life. After he slept with someone, he left. There was no cuddling or snuggling or affectionate whispering in the dark. Usually he took off because he had to catch a plane, but on those rare occasions when he wasn't leaving imminently, he'd get the hell away from them because he felt trapped. The emotional aftermath of sex always felt forced to him. He just had nothing to say to the women.

Other than good-bye.