The Heart of a Killer. Jaci Burton
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Название: The Heart of a Killer
Автор: Jaci Burton
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Зарубежные детективы
isbn: 9781408968673
isbn:
“He could come back.”
“If he does, I can handle it.”
Dante surveyed the double dead-bolt lock on her door. “I guess you’re secure.”
Anna felt anything but secure at the moment, especially since she was leaning against the door and Dante was about a quarter of an inch away from her, all that testosterone sending her libido firing in a way it hadn’t since…
Since the last time they’d been alone together. She’d been full of raging teen hormones back then, which she sure wasn’t now.
Now she was a competent adult capable of taking care of herself, yet here he was, trying to act as if she was in need of saving.
She hadn’t needed saving in a long time. These days she saved herself.
“You need to go.”
He laid his palm against the door above her head, his body hot and enticing as he stared down at her with sea-blue eyes that made her want to dig her teeth into his shirt and rip it off, then bury her face in his neck and lick the bead of sweat that had formed there.
“Is that what you really want?” he asked.
His breath blew against her hair, and she was ten seconds from either self-combusting or grabbing him by the shirt, planting her mouth on his and taking him up on what he was so obviously offering.
“Yes, it’s what I really want.”
He paused, his lips curling in a smile that told her he knew it wasn’t at all what she really wanted.
He slid his hand behind her, his touch making her tremble as his fingers swept across her back.
But then she heard the click of the doorknob. She moved to the side as the door opened.
“Okay, then. See you later.”
Her heart rate skipped double time, her palms were wet and her body tingled with the awareness that she was so affected by Dante she was shaking all over. And just as fast as he had her primed and ready to throw him to the floor and have her way with him, he was gone.
She wasn’t over him at all. Not at all.
She hit the dead bolts, rubbed that spot on her chest with her knuckles and headed toward the bedroom, but she was damn sure not going to sleep now.
Bastard.
Five
Dante stood at the end of Anna’s driveway and leaned against his car. He needed a few minutes to cool his body down, and the summer heat wasn’t helping any.
So, okay, he figured following Anna home would piss her off. Maybe that’s what he’d wanted to do, just to get a reaction out of her, to fire up that cool control that she wore like body armor.
He was glad he’d followed her, that he’d been here to see those flowers and that card.
What he hadn’t counted on was the heat that had flared up between them.
Twelve years ago they’d had passion, but it had been young—intense yearning with nothing to show for it.
What passed between them inside just now had been very adult, very hot, and nothing like what they’d had when they were younger.
But that wasn’t what he’d come home for.
In fact, it had been a stupid move to go inside her house, to allow himself to even think he could get close to her again. He’d crossed the line and pushed the limits and become that almost-eighteen-year-old boy again, totally crazy over the sweet innocent girl he loved but knew he shouldn’t have.
Now he was thirty years old and he still couldn’t have her.
The rumble of a motorcycle turning down the street caught his attention. He walked toward the driver’s side of his car as Gabe pulled to a stop and cut the engine on his Harley.
“Reminiscing about the good old days?” Gabe asked.
“More or less. What are you doing here?”
“Taking a ride. Thought I might find you here.” Gabe looked up at the house, then slanted a glance back at Dante. “Though I kind of figured you’d be smooth enough to get inside.”
“I was inside.”
Gabe arched a brow. “Done already?”
Dante laughed. “Asshole. Listen, someone left roses and a note on the front porch for her.”
Gabe grinned. “Secret admirer?”
“No. The note said, ‘Did you like the gift I left you in the alley?’”
Gabe’s demeanor changed in an instant, harsh anger slashing across his face. “Son of a bitch. The killer is stalking her?”
“I don’t know. Her CSU team took the flowers and note in for Forensics to go over, and they dusted the place for prints.”
“Any sign of forced entry? Was he in her house?”
Dante shook his head. “Doesn’t look like it.”
“Shit. What the fuck is going on, man?”
“I don’t know. We need to get everyone together to talk about it, though, figure this whole thing out.”
They both went silent then. Dante thought about George, about why he’d gotten mixed up in all this.
“You find a place to stay yet?” Gabe finally asked.
“No.”
“How long you plan on hanging out here?”
Dante cocked his head to the side. “I wasn’t going to stay long, but now that this thing happened with George I might have to change my mind about that. Why?”
“Because if you’re staying a few days or a week you can put up with a hotel. If it’s going to be a long visit, I could maybe help you out. If you’re looking to stay permanently—”
“I’m not staying permanently.”
“So which of the other two is it?”
“I hate hotels.” Which wasn’t an answer to Gabe’s question, but Dante didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know how long he was going to be here. It had been an impulse to come in the first place. He wouldn’t have, if not for Ellen asking him. And then George was killed. And now he’d seen Anna…
Gabe nodded. “Yeah, I hate hotels, too. Follow me. I have some friends that just built some condos. Some aren’t sold yet and I can hook you up.”