Sylvia Day: A Touch of Crimson

A drop of rainwater slid down her neck. The cool, slow trickle heightened her physical awareness of the guy she was devouring with her gaze. Behind him, the view of the tarmac revealed a gloomy gray late-afternoon sky. Sheets of rain pelted the windows framing the terminal. The inclement weather was unexpected, and not just because there’d been no rain in the forecast. She always anticipated weather conditions with uncanny accuracy, but she hadn’t felt this storm coming. It had been sunny when she landed, then began pouring buckets shortly after.

Usually, she loved rain and wouldn’t have minded having to step outside to catch the interterminal bus to her connecting flight’s gate. Today, however, there was a morose quality to the weather. A weight of melancholy, or mourning. And she was empathetic.

As long as she could remember, the wind had spoken to her. Whether it shouted through a storm or whispered through stillness, it always conveyed its message. Not in words, but in feelings. Her dad called it her sixth sense and he went out of his way to act as if it was a cool quirk to have instead of something freakish.

That inner radar drew her to the luscious man by her gate as much as his looks did. There was a brooding air about him that reminded her of a brewing storm gathering strength. She was strongly attracted to that quality in him… and to the lack of a wedding band on his finger.

Pivoting, Lindsay faced him head-on and willed him to look at her.

His head lifted. His gaze met hers.

She was hit with the sensation of being buffeted by the wind, the gusts whipping through her hair. But there was none of the chill. Only heat and seductive humidity. Lindsay held his stare for an endless moment, riveted by the drawing pull of brilliant azure irises, eyes that were as tumultuous and ancient as the fury of the weather outside.

Inhaling sharply, she turned and walked to a nearby gourmet pretzel shop, giving him the opportunity to chase her obvious interest… or not. She knew instinctively that he was a man who pursued.

She reached the counter and glanced up at the menu. The smell of warm, yeasty bread and melted butter made her mouth water. The last thing she needed before sitting on her ass for another hour straight was a carbohydrate bomb like a giant pretzel. Then again, maybe the rush of serotonin would soothe nerves jangled by the sensory input from the large number of people around her.

She ordered. “Pretzel sticks, please. With marinara sauce and a diet soda.”

The clerk relayed the total. Lindsay dug into her purse for her wallet.

“Allow me.”

God… that voice. Tantalizingly sonorous. Lindsay knew it was him .

He reached around her and she breathed in his exotic scent. Not cologne. Just earthy, virile male. Crisp and pure, like air cleansed by a rainstorm.

He slid a twenty-dollar bill across the counter. She smiled and let him.

It was too bad she was wearing her oldest pair of jeans, a loose T-shirt, and army-issue jungle boots. Great for ease of movement, but she would’ve preferred to look hot for this guy. He really was way out of her league, from the movie-star good looks to the Vacheron Constantin watch on his wrist.

Turning to face him, she held out her hand. “Thank you, Mr…?”

“Adrian Mitchell.” He accepted the handshake, with the addition of his thumb stroking across her knuckles.

Lindsay had a visceral response to his touch. Her breath caught and the tempo of her heartbeat accelerated. Up close, he was devastating. Both fiercely masculine and terrifyingly beautiful. Flawless. “Hi, Adrian Mitchell.”

He reached down and caught her luggage tag with long, elegant fingers. “Nice to meet you, Lindsay Gibson… from Raleigh? Or returning there?”

“I’m heading your direction. We’re sharing a plane.”

His eyes were the most unusual shade of blue. Like the vivid cerulean at the heart of a flame. Set within olive skin and framed by thick dark lashes, they were mesmerizing.

And they were focused on her as if he couldn’t get enough of looking at her.

He raked her from head to toe with a searing glance. She felt bare and flushed, left naked by the undressing he’d done in his mind. Her body responded to the provocation. Her breasts swelled; everything else softened.

A woman would have to soften for him, because there was nothing remotely yielding about his body. From the sculpted definition of his shoulders and biceps to the chiseled features of his face, every angle was sharp and precise.

He reached around her for his change, moving with a lithe and primal grace.

I bet he fucks like an animal.

Heated by the thought, Lindsay caught the extension handle of her suitcase. “So is Orange County home? Or are you traveling for business?”

“I’m going home. To Anaheim. And you?”

She moved to the pickup counter. He followed at a more sedate pace, but there was something inherently determined about the way he came after her. His pre-dacity sent a shiver of expectation through her. Her luck had definitely changed-her final destination was Anaheim, too.

“Orange County is going to be home. I’m relocating for a job.” She wasn’t going to get as detailed as naming a city. She knew how to protect herself if she had to, but she didn’t want to buy any more trouble than she already had.

“That’s a big move. One side of the country to the other.”

“It was time for a change.”

His mouth curved in a half smile. “Have dinner with me.”

The velvety resonance to his voice engaged her interest further. He was charismatic and magnetic, two qualities that made short-term relationships memorable.

She accepted the bag and soda the clerk passed to her. “You get right to the point. I like that.”

The calling of their flight number drew her attention back to the gate. A short delay was announced, causing the waiting passengers to shift restlessly. Adrian never took his eyes from her.

He gestured to the row of chairs near where he’d been pacing. “We have time to get to know each other.”

Lindsay walked with him over to the seating area. She canvassed the vicinity again, taking brief note of the numerous women following Adrian with their gazes. The sense of him being a leashed tempest was no longer so overwhelming, while outside the rain had abated to a heavy drizzle. The correlation was intriguing.

Her ferocious reaction to Adrian Mitchell and his unique ability to set off her inner weather radar cemented her decision to get closer to him. Anomalies in her life always bore greater investigation.

He waited until she was settled into a seat, then asked, “Do you have friends picking you up? Family?”

No one was meeting her. She had a shuttle reserved to take her to the hotel where she’d be staying until she found a suitable apartment. “It’s not wise to share that sort of information with a stranger.”

“So let me address the risk.” He shifted with sleek fluidity, reaching into his back pocket to grab his billfold. Withdrawing a business card, he held it out to her. “Call whoever is expecting you. Tell them who I am and how to reach me.”

“You’re determined.” Also used to giving commands. She didn’t mind. She had a strong personality and needed the same in return, or she took the lead. Docile men were fine in certain situations, but not in her personal life.

“I am,” he agreed, unabashed.

Lindsay reached for the card. His fingers touched hers and electricity raced up her arm.

His nostrils flared. He caught her hand; his fingertips teased her palm. He could have been stroking between her legs, given how aroused she became from that simple touch. He watched her with an almost tangible sexual heat, dark and intense. As if he knew what her hot buttons were… or was set on figuring them out.