Michelle Rowen - Touch and Go

He brushed his fingertips over it. “That’s why I wear it under my clothes.”

“What is it?”

“Just something I picked up.”

“It looks Egyptian. Are those hieroglyphics?” At his raised eyebrow, she added, “I took Egyptology as an elective in college.”

He covered the pendant with his hand, then did up a button so it was hidden again. “Like I said, meet me by the pool in an hour if you want to practice. If not, I’ll catch up with you later.”

It looked as if she’d hit a sore spot by questioning him about that pendant. Interesting. “No, I’ll be there. Practice makes perfect, after all.”

“We’ll get the amulet first thing tomorrow. If it really is a danger, I’ll destroy it here. Otherwise, I’ll take it back to PARA to go into the vault. We can be back in Mystic Ridge in forty-eight hours or less.”

“Barely enough time to get a good tan before we’re trudging through snow again.”

“Try to remember that this is a business trip, not a pleasure trip.” He blinked. “Why are you smiling at me?”

“You sound like a boss.”

“I’m not.”

“You used to be.”

He exhaled. “I used to be a lot of things.”

“I noticed you didn’t shake Will’s hand.”

He was silent for a moment. “What’s your point?”

“Just a bit strange, is all,” she said. He fisted both hands at his sides. “Why don’t you touch anyone anymore?”

“Because I choose not to.”

He was close enough that she could feel the heat from his body. If she wanted to touch him, all she’d have to do was reach forward and slide her hands over his chest. But she didn’t.

“Ever?” she asked.

“Rarely.”

“You touched me when I started last week. Am I special?”

He began to look vaguely amused by her onslaught of questions. “It was only a brief handshake. Don’t get too excited.”

Again her cheeks flushed. Patrick McKay was the first man capable of making her blush in years. “But you didn’t shake Will’s hand, and he’s a client. I’d think you’d make an exception for him, too.” She cocked her head as she studied his tense expression.

“What?” he asked warily.

“What would you do if I touched you right now? Right here?”

He held her gaze for a long moment. “Nothing. But I’d probably consider it very unprofessional behavior that you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, Ms. Stanfield.”

She’d take his rebuff as a slap on the wrist if she didn’t see the heated look in his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

His jaw tensed. “Pool. One hour.”

“Okay.” As she turned and walked away, she realized she was smiling. After all, she did love a mystery.

And Patrick McKay was a tall, blond, handsome mystery she was determined to solve. Whether he liked it or not.

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