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Trent knew he should keep his hands off her. Touching her like this was dangerous, and yet he couldn’t resist. He hadn’t lied when he’d told her that she was the most fascinating woman he’d ever met. From the moment he’d first seen her in Seattle, he’d wanted to make love to her.
And yet he had to hold back. She was still in pain, still confused, still distrustful. There was so much he wanted to tell her and so much he still couldn’t divulge. But as soon as they were back in the United States and he was assured of her safety, things would be better. He smelled the lilac scent of her shampoo on the hairs that spilled across her pillow and the desire already flowing through his blood created an ache in his loins. It would be so easy to start kissing her, to brush his fingers across her breasts, to rub up against her and nudge her legs apart….
“Hell,” he ground out, forcing himself to roll over and cling to the side of the bed. He’d never been a hero, and there had been a time in his life when he hadn’t really cared what a woman thought of him before or after he’d taken her to bed. But now, with Nikki, things were different. Complicated. Dangerous.
He grimaced and stared at the ceiling, knowing she wasn’t sleeping. Any way he thought about it, the night was going to last forever!
* * *
Nikki climbed out of bed as soon as the morning sunlight streamed through the window. Hazarding a glimpse of Trent, she felt her throat catch as she saw his face, cleanly shaven, in complete repose. His jaw was strong and square. Dark lashes brushed his cheek and his mouth was without its usual cynical twist. His black hair fell over his forehead and his bare shoulders, even relaxed, were sculpted with sinewy muscles. Bristly hair swirled over his chest and disappeared beneath the sheet. A handsome man, she thought, but who the devil was he? Husband? Lover? Enemy?
“Are you gonna stand there all day and drool over me, or are you gonna come back to bed and do something about it?” He patted the spot where she’d been lying without cracking open an eye.
“You—”
With a slow, deliberately sensual smile, he levered up on one elbow and the sheet fell away, revealing a washboard of lean abdominal muscles. “I what?”
“You were awake,” she said, deciding it wouldn’t be wise to insult him just yet.
“Mmm.” He stretched his arms far over his head and settled back against the pillows. Yawning, his slumberous eyes dark with an unnamed passion, he said, “You’re lucky I didn’t try to take advantage of you.”
She couldn’t help rising to the bait. “Maybe you’re the lucky one,” she teased, hurrying into the bathroom and locking the door firmly behind her before she decided she was being childish. He was her husband—right? He could see her naked. Or could he? Taking in a deep breath she unlocked the door. He could make the next move if he wanted to.
Telling herself that things were as normal as they could be given the circumstances, she carefully applied a little makeup and was grateful that her face was beginning to heal. A few of the scabs had become loose and some had actually peeled away to reveal pink skin that contrasted vividly with her tan. All in all her body was healing, she decided as she applied antibiotic cream and vitamin E skin oil to her abrasions. If only her mind would mend as well.
After brushing her hair and changing into shorts and a T-shirt, she returned to the bedroom where Trent, dressed only in faded Levi’s, was pouring coffee into two cups. “Cream, no sugar, right?” he asked.
“Yes.” For years she’d tried to wean herself off cream, she remembered, but hadn’t been able to drink coffee black. Somehow Trent had been around her long enough to know her habits. It was frustrating, this being in the dark.
Handing her a cup, he huddled over a newspaper at the table and she tentatively took a seat across from him. She tried not to stare at the sharp angles of his face as she blew across her coffee, but she watched him, hoping that a glance, a gesture, a word would trigger memories of their whirlwind courtship and marriage.
“Tell me about your family,” she suggested as he scanned the front page.
“Not much to tell.”
“Your parents?”
“Still married and living in Toledo. Dad’s retired from working in the steel mills. Mom’s a nurse. She’ll retire in a couple of years.”
“Brothers?”
“Just one snip of a sister. Kate. Stubborn, single and a pain in the backside.” He glanced up and smiled. “Anything else?”
“How did you end up in Seattle?”
Frowning, he folded his paper neatly on the table. “What is this—twenty questions?”
“Yes. Or thirty. Or fifty. Or a hundred. Whatever it takes.”
“I didn’t want to end up like my old man, with a bad back and a bum hip, so I managed to get a scholarship. That, along with working nights, put me through school. I graduated in law enforcement, decided I couldn’t stand working for a boss and gravitated toward being a private detective. I moved around a lot. Things were slow and I heard about a job with the insurance company where I could make my own hours, and so I took it. I was living in Denver at the time and ready to move on.”
“And that’s it?”
“My life history.”
She sipped from her cup and burned her tongue as she considered his story—encapsulated as it was. He didn’t say anything she could dispute, but it seemed so cold and sterile—no hint of warmth when he talked about his folks, no smile when he mentioned his home town, no mention of a family pet, or a friend, or anything that might show a hint of his emotions. As if his past has been manufactured and printed off a computer screen.
You’re letting your imagination get the better of you, she told herself. Why would he lie?
