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He fought the hunger biting through him, curling his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her. Driving, he reminded himself. She’s talking about driving. But his body didn’t want to listen. “Sure, Princess,” he told her, letting the slight mocking tone creep into his voice, his only defense against her. “I’ll teach you...anything you want to learn.” He turned and walked out of the room, but not before he saw the hurt in her eyes.
* * *
Two days on, four days off. Trace had had four days to try to build his defenses against the princess on something solid, something with more strength to it than deliberately hurting her, again and again. The subtle mocking inflection to the word princess was banished now, never to return. He’d reached the end of the line where that pitiful defense was concerned. Each time he hurt her he hurt himself now, and he couldn’t do it anymore. She didn’t deserve it...and he couldn’t bear it. Something had changed in their relationship—she mattered to him. It was a hell of a thing to have to admit, but he couldn’t deceive himself anymore.
Maybe it was that day at the shooting range when he’d realized she was deliberately creating excuses to have him touch her, hold her. Or maybe it was the way she’d looked at his goddaughter the day before that—wistful, bewildered, yearning. He didn’t understand the emotions that had flitted across her face, but he’d known she was vulnerable. Damned vulnerable. Maybe it was the way she’d said he reminded her of her beloved brother, Andre, the night Suleiman had colic. That shock had left him reeling. It was almost as much of a shock as hearing that earthy, Zakharan curse on her lips accompanied by a mischievous expression.
Or maybe it was everything. Everything about her. Every day spent in her company. Every minute spent listening to her musical voice, so full of enthusiasm as she taught. Every sidelong glance she cast at him when she thought he wasn’t watching. Every naive attempt to draw his attention. Every aching, erotic dream about her. Every time he saw her lovely, green eyes—smiling, solemn, wistful, hurt. Even blank, the way he’d seen her eyes a few times when that curtain had come down over her emotions. Her eyes owned him.
He didn’t want to like her...but he did. He didn’t want to want her...but he did. He didn’t want to need her...but he was afraid it was already too late. You’re in over your head, McKinnon, he warned himself sternly. You’re drowning.
But he didn’t care. Not anymore, and it was as if a weight had been lifted with that determination. He wasn’t going to fight what he felt for her. He wasn’t going to act on it, of course—she was as much off limits to him now as she’d always been—but what was the harm in enjoying her company? A little light flirtation, a little friendly conversation. And maybe she’d answer some of those questions about her past that had been slowly driving him crazy.
Tomorrow was Sunday, and he’d be back on duty. He was going to do what she’d asked him to do last Monday morning—teach her how to drive in the snow. As the week had progressed the temperature had warmed somewhat. Most of the snow here in Boulder had melted, and even the side roads were clear. But he’d let her drive up into the mountains a little way, just as far as his cabin outside Keystone. I-70 would be dry as a bone, as would the other highways, but they never plowed the long dirt road that led nowhere except to his cabin, and there should still be snow there.
That road would be ideal for her to practice on since there would be no other traffic; if she skidded, she couldn’t hit much of anything. Then they could take a break in his cabin before starting for home. He’d always wondered what she’d think of it, and now he’d find out. The water was turned off, but he could turn it back on for the time they’d be there, then shut it off again without too much trouble.
I can handle this, he assured himself. Look but don’t touch. It wouldn’t be the first time. He’d had lots of experience doing just that in Afghanistan. The same for when he’d been married. His ex-wife had never believed him, but he’d been completely faithful to her in the years they’d been married. Hell yes, he’d looked at other women. He was a man and had a man’s appreciation for women in all their interesting variations. And with his looks women had always thrown out lures. But his vows had meant something to him, and he’d never succumbed to the many temptations that had crossed his path. Not once.
Janet just hadn’t believed him. And her constant suspicions, her lack of faith in him had eroded whatever love he’d once felt for her, until...at the very end, when she’d demanded he give up his new partner, Keira Jones, accusing him of caring more for his partner than he did for his wife, he’d realized she was right. Not that he was having an affair with Keira. He just no longer cared for Janet, couldn’t bear her lack of trust a minute longer. And that had been that.
