Wanton. Lori Foster

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      The quiet had given her plenty of time to think, though, and she’d come to several conclusions. She didn’t like it, but she was forced to face the truth. She needed Alec’s help.

      Staring at his hard profile, she sighed. “So are you going to brood all night?”

      “Yes.”

      She almost laughed at that, her mood lifting slightly. He was such a big, dark, awesome man to admit to actual brooding. But she could see he was more relaxed now, too. That ever-present aura of danger that loomed around him like a thick black cloud had softened. His hands were no longer gripping the steering wheel as if he might snap it in two, and his jaw wasn’t as tightly clenched.

      Celia smiled at him, hoping to cajole him into a more agreeable frame of mind. “I have a sort of ‘off the topic’ question for you.”

      He gave her a suspicious look, his black gaze cutting over her features before he reluctantly shrugged. “Go ahead.”

      “How did you know where I was? I made a point not to drive, to take the dumb slow bus instead so people would see my car in the driveway and think I was still at home.” She didn’t mention that the “people” she’d most wanted to elude was Alec. But as usual, he was one step ahead of her.

      As she spoke, he pulled into the motel parking lot where she’d rented a room. Celia shook her head in amazement. “And how did you know I was staying here?”

      He made an impatient sound and shut off the truck’s motor. “I’m a P.I. This is what I do.”

      He shifted in his seat to face her, one long arm stretching out along the back of the seat, almost touching her. The darkness of the cab’s interior closed around them, relieved only by the lights of sporadic traffic. She could smell his scent, feel the warmth of his big body. His arm with the tattoo was closest to her, and she glanced at it. It was too dark for her to see it clearly, but she’d studied it many times and always wondered at the significance. A man like Alec didn’t tattoo his arm with a heart, pierced by an arrow, for no reason. She just didn’t have the nerve to ask him what that reason might be.

      She shifted restlessly in her seat. “But how?” she demanded, going back to her original question. He narrowed his gaze, his look calculating, and she warned, “Don’t you dare lie to me, Alec.”

      One finger touched her hair, twining around a loose curl, unnerving her further and filling her stomach with sensual butterflies. He watched his hand, his dark eyes glinting in the soft moonlight. She saw the moment he decided to tell her the truth. His shoulders lifted in a slight, unconcerned shrug. “I broke into your house and found your travel plans.”

      Her mouth dropped open and she stared at him in utter disbelief. She took refuge from his overwhelming nearness in the flash of anger that jarred her wits back. “You did what?”

      Disgruntled, he released her and opened his door. Celia scrambled out her own side before he could circle the truck, then stepped in front of him, hands on hips, chin thrust out, blocking his way. “You broke into my house?” she demanded, injecting as much outrage in the words as she could. He ignored her and she had to quickly backstep since he didn’t stop, then was forced to skip to keep up with him.

      “I didn’t do any damage.” He said it as if that would be her only concern, as if the invasion of her privacy was nothing at all. He glanced down at her, then added, “You need an alarm system. I’ll take care of it when we get back.”

      Celia slung her purse strap over her shoulder and clasped both hands around the back waistband of his tight jeans as he started up the outside stairs leading to her second-floor room. She dug in her heels, but only got dragged in his wake. “Damn it, Alec, will you wait up a minute?”

      “We can talk in your room, honey, while you pack up.”

      She stumbled on the concrete steps and he reached back, disengaging her hands and pulling her up alongside him. He kept a solicitous hand at her elbow, offering her support in her high heels. “Did you hurt yourself when you leaped out of my truck?”

      “No.” Nothing more than a tender ankle, and since he’d blown off the impact of a bullet wound to his thigh, she certainly wasn’t going to complain about something so minor.

      “Good.” He continued dragging her along.

      Celia seethed. She had no intention of packing up. In fact, she still had hopes of convincing Alec to stay and help her. Alec and Dane were forever claiming “gut instincts” to account for every hunch they had that couldn’t be explained, but proved true nonetheless. Well, she had a wrenching, screaming “gut instinct” right now, and it was telling her that Hannah Barrington was in big trouble and Celia was her only hope. She couldn’t, wouldn’t turn her back on Hannah now, no matter what. If she did give up on the twenty-year-old girl, she’d never again be able to face herself in the mirror. But she was smart enough to know her chances of actually helping Hannah would be much better if Alec lent his expertise. Getting him to do that would be tricky.

      Especially if she killed him first.

      When they reached the landing and circled to her room, Alec turned to face her. He reached for her purse and Celia knew a physical struggle would be pointless. He was coming in and since she hoped to convince him to help her, she didn’t want to cause a fuss about it. Still, she snatched her purse out of his reach and glared at him. “I’ll get the key. Just hold on a second.”

      He was impatient, looming over her as if he expected her to pull out a gun instead. Ha! If she had one, she would already have hit him over the head with it. Celia thrust the key into his hand and said at the same time, “I can’t believe your gall. How would you like it if I broke into your home?”

      He swung the door open and reached inside for a light. His voice was pitched low, with a husky drawl. “Anytime you want to visit my place, honey, you just let me know. The invitation is always open.”

      Celia sputtered, annoyed at what she was sure was another sexual reference. Then the light spilled over them and Alec could suddenly see into her room.

      For once his look was comical rather than terrorizing. “What the hell?”

      Celia peeked around his shoulder, and flinched. She’d forgotten that she’d left the room in such cluttered disarray. The room’s dingy carpeting could barely be seen for the objects covering it. Alec slowly turned to stare down at her, one black brow quirked high. “What the hell have you been up to?”

      “Exercising?” Her voice emerged as an embarrassed squeak. The personal goals she’d set for herself were just that—personal. She didn’t want anyone, especially Alec, to know about them.

      He blinked twice, his look filled with skepticism, then again surveyed her room. He took his time, his gaze going over the padded floor mat, the ankle and wrist weights, the five-pound barbells, a jump rope, and finally landing on the expandable chin-up bar she had wedged open in the bathroom doorway. So far, she’d managed to get her chin over it twice. He shook his head, and his long hair skimmed over his shoulders. “Who the hell do you think you are? That crazy broad from the Terminator movie?”

      Celia’s face burned and she reluctantly followed him inside, pausing beside the door. “I’m just trying to stay in shape. I was getting too soft.”

      His gaze caught hers and held. Two heartbeats later, he slowly СКАЧАТЬ