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Lainie couldn't help herself. She smiled. And it felt good, damn it. After all the doom and gloom and grief and fear, it was nice to find something to smile about. "What are you doing here?" she said, moving toward him. "Aren't there banks that need robbing?"
He backed away from her, and she sensed fear in him. He didn't want her to get too close.
Now she was sure they were soul mates.
She looked at him, really studied him in a way she hadn't before. Before, all she'd seen was the man she created in her book; anything more or less than that, she'd discounted. Now she really tried to see the man himself.
He stood against the bookcase, one booted foot resting on the lowest shelf. One hand, lean and long-fingered, lay splayed against the hard curve of his thigh. The cotton shirt, once white and now a battered, over-washed shade of gray, hung limply on his broad shoulders,
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the collar gaped to reveal a plunging vee of black chest hair and tanned skin. Dusty black wool pants hugged his legs and dragged in frayed edges across the top of his boots.
He filled the corner of the cabin, and not only by sheer physical size. He was a presence somehow, a man one would have noticed in any setting. A man's man; a woman's fantasy. Long, unkempt hair the color of old steel brushed well past his collar, curled in a silver fringe at his shoulders. His face was tanned and lined by years beneath a hot sun; it was a face with character. But even with all that, it was his eyes that moved her most profoundly. Everything else about him, she expected?still more than half believed she created. But not those eyes. There was something in his gaze she wouldn't have put there, wouldn't have imagined, and she didn't know what it was.
She couldn't deny that right now, looking at him, she fe
lt something. She didn't think for a second that it was a leftover cosmic love or anything, but it was definitely something.
Frowning, confused, she moved toward him. She came to within inches of him and stopped, staring deeply into his eyes, wondering if it would be like that scene from Heaven Can Wait when Julie Christie saw the soul in Warren Beatty's eyes.
Their gazes met, held. Deep in his brown eyes, she saw her own reflection; beyond that, she saw a spark of barely contained fear. He flinched.
For a second, maybe more, she forgot to breathe. She gazed up into his life-lined face and felt?absurdly?as if she'd finally come home.
"What are you looking at?" he asked.
You. She wanted to say the word casually, toss it to
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him as if it meant nothing, but she couldn't. Her throat felt thick and her breath was coming too fast.
Suddenly everything Viloula said made a horrible, frightening sense. He did seem familiar to her, and more than that, he felt important. Her mind seized on a dozen moments, snippets of time that drew them together. They were little things, barely grasped and quickly lost, but they meant something to her; the way he'd looked at her when he'd untied her hands, the strength he'd given to her on the ledge, the sadness in his eyes when he spoke of Emily.
She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She didn't know what to say, or how to say it.
"Don't look at me that way."
She heard the scratchy, gravelly sound of his voice and knew that he'd felt it, too, that unbelievable spark of possibility.
Fear slid down her back. She wrapped her arms around herself and backed away from him. Suddenly she didn't want to be this close to him, didn't want to feel anything for him.
All this crap about soul mates would only screw her up and mess with her mind. She had to remember, always, that Kelly was her sole priority. She could have loved Killian since Cleopatra rode the Nile and it didn't mean squat. All that mattered was getting home. And he was either with her or against her. Period. And now was the time to find out which it was.
"Viloula told you I was telling the truth," she said.
"So what? The woman believes in gnomes and fairies and trolls."
Lainie didn't laugh. "I need you to help me get to Fortune Flats."
He flinched. His eyes narrowed, but not before she
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saw a glimpse of some dark inner torment. "I don't care what the hell you need."
She frowned. He looked ... scared. But that was ridiculous. What did he have to be frightened of? Slowly, watching him, she moved closer. "Are you going to take me to Fortune Flats?"
