Doranna Durgin - Survival Instinct

She looked tired. No little wonder, after their nonstop day. And she looked thoughtful, regarding him with her blue-gray eyes, her head ducked as it often was. This time those spiky new bangs swept to the side, partially obscuring her gaze. The expression did what it always did to him, waking parts he’d thought weren’t paying any attention. Reminding him how this conflict-of-interest situation had become quite tangled indeed.

None of his parts cared about that. Not the slowly stirring erection, not the tingle down his lower spine. Not the tightening along the backs of his thighs. At least he had the laptop, already casually positioned to keep his reaction from becoming a topic of conversation. It wasn’t the kind of mixed message he wanted to send.

He wasn’t quite ready when she sighed and said, “Had time to think about it, haven’t you?”

Wary caution filled his reply. “Think about-”

“It,” she said, and gestured at herself-dressed in her own jeans and one of the new tops, wearing her new hair-everything but the colored contacts. For that moment she somehow drew herself up to stand differently, becoming not a tired fugitive planning a scam but someone cool, aware of her own classy nature, and just a little bit flirty around the edges. “What I’ve done.”

Dave swallowed, hunting a truth that wouldn’t sound harsh.

Problem was, the truth was harsh.

“Watching you today…” He shook his head. “You’re good, aren’t you? It wasn’t just your stepfather kicking you into compliance. You did it and you were good at it.”

She inclined her head just so, a refined gesture that suited Brooke quite perfectly, and said, “We’ve only just started. Tomorrow it’s your turn.”

Instant denial seized him, but he barely got his mouth open before she laughed, a pealing laugh he hadn’t heard before. “Don’t worry, dearling. A few key outfits and some temporary dye should do it. With those skin tones, we can’t pull off anything darker than a medium brown.”

He muttered his words. All of them. The laptop as camouflage suddenly didn’t seem quite so necessary as before.

But when he looked back at her, she’d dropped the pose. She ran her hands through her hair, scrubbing her scalp as she stretched. The shirt-a fine, slippery cloth the color of a blush-rose to show even more of her tight belly. Dave inhaled sharp and quick.

Not a man who knew what he wanted, one way or the other; his body and mind danced around in opposition, flip-flopping positions.

And it wasn’t that she couldn’t tell, laptop or not. She moved into the room, perching a hip on the rounded lip of the footboard. Totally Karin. “Hey,” she said, waiting for him to focus on her again. When he did, she gestured at herself once more-and then at him. “This is it, you know. This situation…my past, your future. It’s not perfect…but it’s what we have. It might be all we have. This now of ours.”

He didn’t have a ready answer. He didn’t have any answer at all.

She didn’t wait long. She came to his two-chair perch and picked up the laptop, setting it on the side table. Then she slung a leg over his knees and straddled the space she’d just cleared. Sat…right…there. Dave froze, letting his breath ease out through his teeth to stop himself from instantly thrusting up into her, clothes and all. He somehow managed not to garble his words. “Pretty confident, aren’t you?”

“That’s what I am,” she told him. “A confident woman. I know what I want.”

He reached for her waist, couldn’t quite stop himself from caressing the sleek, warm sides beneath the drape of her shirt. After a moment he moved her against him. Just enough so her inner thighs quivered. He murmured, “And tomorrow? Or the next day? Or the day we’re finished in Alexandria?”

“Or the day you decide you can’t live with who I am?” Hard words, but she said them softly. Matter-of-factly. “Days like that happen. I think it’s better when nights like this happen in between them.” Then she cocked her head and said in bright, normal tones, “Of course, that’s up to you,” and shifted to get her feet under her so she could abandon him there.

Oh, no. He caught her, snagging her jeans pockets, and pulled her back down close and tight. The renewed contact scrambled his brains and he reached up, cupping her neck to pull her down for an unexpectedly slow kiss, with his mouth moving against hers in gentle, deliberate care, nibbling and flirting and courting-and building into a connection deeper than he’d ever intended.

Decision made. Regrets later. He put his glasses aside and tended to the side of her neck, her cheek, the corner of her mouth…he kissed the spot just beneath her earlobe and waited for her gasp to fade before murmuring, “I’ll take our now.”

Karin woke tangled in sheets. Alone.

From the now to the morning after. Nice letdown.

Didn’t matter. She still owned the memory. Her skin still tingled from his touch, and his scent still lingered in her hair. She spent a moment savoring the sensations, and then she flipped back the sheets and headed for the bathroom.

Today was Dave’s turn to be outfitted. Karin put her hair back in a high ponytail and dug into her courier bag, into the depths of the pocket that wasn’t quite a bona fide hidden compartment. She flipped through the Brooke Ellington ID, satisfied that she’d grabbed everything, including alternative IDs. If Dave thought she’d made up the name on the spur of the moment, he was in for a surprise. Brooke was an old standby who “lived” in Florida but who’d done a lot of traveling for Karin.

She patted the paperwork and plastic and tucked it back away, then packed her new belongings in the new suitcase, ready to go. She reached the dining room just in time for the second serving, and she was spreading chunky spiced apples over her French toast-thick bakery bread, oh yum-when Dave arrived.

She thought he looked tired. It gave her some satisfaction; she had a pretty good idea how he’d gotten that way. He pulled out one of the wooden tapestry-backed chairs and sat down.

“Fruit?” she said, offering him her bowl of melon cubes.

“Ate at the early serving,” he told her, and then popped one of the juicy orange chunks into his mouth anyway. He wore jeans and that Red Wings sweatshirt this morning, though he still carried himself as if they were designer duds. His expression was far more pensive than melon-chewing could account for, and more remote than a man greeting his lover ought to be.

“Second thoughts?” she asked him. She forked the toast and apple mixture into her mouth and then had to close her eyes so she could absorb the wonderfulness of the combination.

When she opened them, there he was. Waiting. He nodded. “Second and third. But no better ideas. And Rashawn…” He scruffed up his hair. It didn’t look as if this was the first time, and the day was young. “They found him under a water tower across the tracks from North Glendale. Just dumped. Just like an-” He stopped himself, shaking his head. The words were there; Karin could all but see them. He just couldn’t bring himself to say them or perhaps to trust himself to stay calm about it. Instead he said, “No, I don’t like it. But I want to stop this bastard. If this is what it takes…”

There was no need to say that Karin’s scam was Dave’s only way in. Officially, he wasn’t even here anymore.

Karin said, “Hey.” She waited for him to meet her gaze and then she said, “I want to do something about it, too.”

He stole another piece of melon. “I’d feel better if I understood why.”

Clink. She put her fork down too hard; the couple seated a table away glanced over in surprise. Karin said drily, bitterly, “You mean because I’m such a soul-sucking money-grubbing thief, why would I do a decent thing?”