Donna Kauffman - Against The Odds

“What exactly are you insinuating?”

She was the oddest mix of stiff upper lip and nervous twitches. He was beginning to think both performances were a part of who she really was. How intriguing. “Nothing. In fact, I admired the way you handled the whole thing.”

“Indeed,” she said, more to herself than to him.

“Indeed,” he repeated. “You know, I won’t bite.” At her questioning look, he directed his gaze to the death grip she had on her robe.

“I’m not accustomed to socializing in little more than a cellophane wrapper.”

“But handling police interrogations are no problem at all apparently. At least, you’d never have guessed otherwise from your performance in there.”

The slightest of smiles quirked her lips as she studied his face. “I’m not so sure I believe you. About the biting.”

“You totally fascinate me.” He saw no reason not to just admit that up front.

The smile faltered, the grip tightened.

But he didn’t back down. “One moment you’re the royal queen, entertaining her subjects. The next you’re like…well, I can’t describe it really. Uncertain of yourself. Though I can’t imagine how or why.”

She shifted the slightest step farther away from him, but didn’t directly comment on his evaluation other than to say, “Yes, well, the circumstances here are a bit far removed from the typical, aren’t they? Tends to make a person behave in ways somewhat out of step with the norm. Not all that fascinating really. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She motioned with her head to the office door, which he was now blocking.

“Misty—”

She shot him a look of surprise.

“I was standing right in the room. I might not be directly involved in the investigation, but I do know your name.” And your occupation, he thought, but didn’t say. As it was, she probably thought he was another slug, interested more by what she did, and in this case where she was presently doing it, than who she was. Well, he admitted to being intrigued by all that, but his interest had been sparked long before he knew anything about her job. Of course, that might have had something to do with the fact that she’d been stark naked at the time.

“Exactly how is it you came to be assisting this department? You said you were in town for a fire marshal class or something? I’m surprised they’ve allowed such familiarity.”

And here he was, wishing she’d allow him a bit more familiarity. “Professional courtesy. The classes are in forensic investigation. I was having a late dinner with two of the instructors when they were called to the scene. I tagged along.”

“And was it professional courtesy that had you lurking behind the screen in my room?”

“I wasn’t lurking.” Leering a little maybe, he thought, but hell, what red-blooded man wouldn’t have? He didn’t attempt to make that distinction, however. “And I am sorry for putting you in such an awkward situation.”

She gave him a look. “You seem to be very good at that.”

He smiled. “Yeah, apparently I am.”

“Yes. Well.” She shifted slightly. “Don’t let me keep you from whatever duty it was that sent you racing out of the door.”

“Actually, I came racing out the door to catch you.”

“Did the officers have something else they wanted?”

He looked directly at her, waited until her eyes met his. “No. But I did.”

She blinked. Several times.

“As I said before. You fascinate me. And it’s not the location, or what you’re wearing, or even what you do for a living.” He raised his hand as she raised her eyebrow. “I didn’t miss much.”

“No, I don’t believe you do.”

“I won’t lie. All of that is interesting. I’m an investigator, I can’t help being curious. But that’s not why I ran out here. I’m not all lathered up because I think you’re a hot piece looking for some action for your next book.”

Those eyes of hers widened momentarily, before her regal reserve once again settled around her like a well-worn mantle. “So, I’m not a ‘hot piece’ then? Well, that’s certainly a bit of news. I’m extremely relieved to hear it.”

Tucker felt color rise in his cheeks and tried to recall the last time a woman had ever made him blush. He’d been maybe seven. “My finesse is lacking. I was trying to explain that I wasn’t jumping to conclusions based on circumstantial evidence.”

Her lips remained flat, but the slightest of twinkles lit her eyes. The transformation from icy gem to glittering jewel was captivating. “You’re right about the finesse,” she said. “Pity.”

“You should do that more often,” he murmured.

“What? Put down men who make a habit of eating their own feet? I do that too often myself to make sport of it.”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem handing it to me.”

The twinkle glistened again and her lips curved almost in spite of themselves. “It comes more naturally when I’m particularly inspired.”

Tucker smiled. “I suppose I should be flattered then.”

“Quite the optimist, aren’t you?”

Tucker leaned against the wall and folded his arms. “There. That’s what I was talking about.”

She looked about, confused.

He very tentatively reached out and touched her chin, turning her face slowly back to his.

She stiffened, eyed him warily.

“I really don’t bite.”

“I’d really rather you didn’t—”

“It’s the twinkle,” he said, quietly interrupting her.

“I beg your pardon?” She shifted her chin away from his touch.

He very purposely brushed his finger along the curve of her chin again. The finest of shivers rewarded the risk. “Actually, I think I’ll be the one doing the begging.”

Her lips quirked again and he swore she almost laughed. “Who’d have thought it,” she murmured. Then to him, she added, “You’re really—”

“Fascinating?”

“I don’t believe that was the word I was going to use.”

“Your eyes,” he said, quite seriously. “They are amazing. But I’m sure you’ve been told that a hundred times. A thousand. Such a passionate color. And yet you have this way of making them so cool and distant.” He smiled. “Like right now.”

She went to move away completely, but he turned and boxed her in against the wall. He wasn’t touching any part of her, but she could slip out to either side.

She didn’t.

She didn’t look at him directly either.

He noticed she was breathing more rapidly by the rise and fall of her chest. His own was a bit accelerated as well.

“But when you relax, let your guard down,” he went on, as if they were having a casual conversation, “they light up with this…well, twinkle. Takes my breath away.” And yet there was nothing remotely casual happening between them right now. She might be a mystery to him, one he’d like to solve. But the source of that snap, crackle, pop in the air was no mystery at all.

He knew sexual tension when he felt it. And, from the way her pupils slowly expanded when she turned her head to look directly at him…so did she.

“Will you be staying in Vegas?” he asked.

She said nothing, but kept her gaze on his.

“I’ll be here the rest of the week,” he said, then waited. Determined to wait as long as it took to get a response from her.

“Me, too,” she said finally, the words barely a murmur.

“Four days.” It was both statement…and request.

“Four.”

“Before we go our own way, back to our own worlds, never to cross paths again.”

She stared at him for the longest time, but said nothing. Neither did she move away.

He lifted a hand, surprised to find that he was the one with the tremor this time. He slowly stroked a blunt-tipped finger along the side of her face. Her skin was as fine and smooth as the porcelain he’d compared it to. So incredibly delicate he wondered how careful he’d have to be not to bruise it. “For those four days,” he said very quietly, “I’d like for our worlds to collide. A little. A lot. I don’t care. Well, that’s a lie. I know what I want.”