Page 10

She almost smiled, just caught it in time.

“Well? Come on, I said nag. Go ahead. Let me have it.”

She closed her eyes, shook her head. She didn’t understand this guy at all. “Fine. You drag me out of my home, without even a chance to pack?—”

“There were killers coming up the stairs at the time.”

“I had to leave my poor cat. And who knows what those maniacs have done to Jax by now?”

“I’m sorry about the cat. I tried to get him before I came down the rope ladder. Reached under the bed for him, but—” there he held up his forearm, and she saw three long scratches she hadn’t noticed before.

“Jax did that?”

He nodded. “The bedroom door was still open a crack, and he shot through it before I could grab him.” He sighed, lowered his arm again. “He’ll crawl under something and hide until it’s quiet. He’s a cat, they have a sixth sense about people.”

He was trying to comfort her, she thought. “I think they say that about dogs.”

“Back to your rant? I don’t think you were done, were you?”

“No. I’m tired. I’m hungry and thirsty and I need a shower. I know I can take one. but I don’t even have clean clothes to put on, and this all just … frankly, it sucks.”

“There. Feel better?”

She glared at him.

He got up and went back out to the car without another word, leaving the door open behind him. She watched his broad back and wished to God he’d put on a shirt at some point in the near future. He opened the trunk, and when he closed it again, he had a duffel bag over his shoulder.

Once back inside, he dropped the bag onto the bed she’d decided must be hers.

“There you go. Knock yourself out.”

“You have food in there?”

“A banquet. And help yourself to the clothes.” He was on the bed again, but he lifted his head to look her up and down. “They’ll be big, but I imagine you’d look good in a feed bag.”

Had he just complimented her? Too late to tell, he’d closed his eyes. His chest rose and fell slowly, expanding and then collapsing again in a steady rhythm. The sounds of his breaths almost hypnotized her.

What kind of an idiot was she, anyway?

She loosened the drawstring on the duffel and tried not to ignore the mesmerizing music he was making. It wasn’t easy.

The bag was crammed full of stuff. Maybe she could learn something about the mysterious man who called himself Molotov if she looked through his worldly possessions.

“Food’s in that pocket on the front. And there oughtta be a T-shirt right on top.”

She jumped a foot. He smiled without opening his eyes.

Fishing out a T-shirt, she took it with her into the bathroom and locked the door behind her.

But even locked away from him in the small bathroom, she couldn’t get him out of her mind.

Obviously, he didn’t want her looking through the duffel bag.

Which meant he had something to hide. Not that she cared.

Not that it mattered what secrets he was keeping.

She had her own plan, and it might be the most important one of her life.

So she showered, taking her sweet time about it. And when she finished, she put her clothes back on, ignoring the oversized black T-shirt she’d borrowed. And then she cracked the door.

He was snoring softly and after a full minute watching him, she was sure he was asleep.

All right then. This was the chance she’d been waiting for, and it might be the only one she’d get.

She crossed the room in her sock feet, not making so much as a sound.

Bending to grab her sneakers and purse as she passed them, utterly silent, she approached the door, but her eyes were on him.

Romano never moved, just kept snoring, sleeping. His eyelashes seemed thicker and darker now than when he was awake. Or was it just the way they contrasted against his cheeks? They gave him a little boy look that vanished as soon as he opened them to reveal the stone-cold irises they covered.

She stopped at the door, her hand on the knob.

“Taking a midnight stroll, Lexi?”

“Just … checking the lock.”

"You need your shoes and bag for that?"

She dropped the shoes to the floor, shook her head in self-disgust. “I thought I was silent as a cat.”

Romano sat up in bed, so the covers fell down to his hips, baring his chest, which was making her feel wrong in so many ways she couldn’t count them all.

“You were pretty quiet. But I’m the world’s lightest sleeper.

” His midnight blue eyes were amused, not angry.

And they were in constant motion, those eyes.

He didn’t just look at her face, but took in the whole of her, head to toe, again and again.

“Get some sleep, Lexi. You’ll need it.”

“I don’t think I could sleep if I tried.”

He swung his legs over the side of the bed with a sigh.

“Then maybe you can help me solve a problem.” Leaning forward, he pulled a pair of jeans out of the duffel, dropped them on the bed.

She watched him like a hawk. Her eyes were a little bit too interested in the way the muscles in his back and shoulders moved beneath the skin.

And the way his dark hair fell over his neck, curling a little at the ends.

There was a strength about him, and she sensed it went deeper than just the physical aspects.

“What problem?” She wished to hell he’d put a shirt on.

He turned toward her, the duffel dangling from his right arm. Its weight made his biceps bulge, and for a second she couldn’t look away. Then she forced her gaze elsewhere and wound up looking at his abs. What was the matter with her? Hadn’t she ever seen a man with a decent bod before?

Yeah, she had, up close. She was a doctor; there was no body type she hadn’t seen.

“The problem,” he said, “is how the hell I can take a shower without you sneaking out of here and getting yourself dead.”

“I’ll stay. I promise.” Her voice was kind of raspy.

“You’re a terrible liar. Really bad. Listen, you wouldn’t get far. I’ll come after you, naked and wet if necessary, throw you over my shoulder and haul your ass back here. You can’t outrun me.”

She tried not to imagine him naked and wet and hauling her back to the motel room like some kind of caveman. And imagined it anyway. “I’ll stay.”

“You’d better.” He turned his attention back to the bag, pulled out another black T-shirt. As he did, a small, three-by-five photo frame clattered to the to the floor. It landed and she had a perfectly clear view of it in the light spilling into the room from outside.

She looked from the faces in that photo to him again. The hard, cold coating his eyes usually wore melted like ice under a blazing sun, revealing what it usually hid. Pain. Stark, intense pain.

Since he didn’t move, she did, stepping forward and dropping to her haunches.

The photo was of a cool, elegant blonde and two little boys, one a toddler, one a little older.

The boys could’ve been Romano’s miniatures, except that their deep blue eyes sparkled with mischief and joy, and their black hair was curlier than his.

They were the same two kids she’d seen on his phone.

She looked up at him, tried to imagine him as a family man, a man with a pretty wife and adorable little boys, but it was hard to fit him into that scenario. It didn’t compute.

She reached for the photo, then jerked backward when he snatched it up before she could.

She caught his gaze again and saw an aching and vulnerable man battling demons only he could see. His shoulders bowed just slightly, his chin was angled lower, his jaw had softened.

Then he turned himself so he was facing away from her and put the photo into one of the duffel's side pockets.

“Who are they?”

He said nothing. Just dropped the bag onto the bed, and kept his face averted.

Something about his pain got to her. She could’ve predicted it. She was a nurturer, a healer. She liked taking care of people, probably because it made her feel needed. Prior to her career in medicine, no one had ever needed her. Well, except for Jax.

She missed that lazy cat. He was another reason she had to get away from this guy. To go rescue her cat.

Someday someone would truly need her, and she’d probably be theirs for life. Until then, she’d just have to live with her compulsion to heal and sympathize and comfort anyone who would let her.

She used to think she could fill her need to be needed by having children of her own. But that wasn’t in her future. She was infertile.

Her body moved on auto pilot. She walked closer to Romano and put a hand on his hard, broad shoulder, and she felt him tense up.

He took a deep, shuddery breath, lifted his chin, and walked into the bathroom without looking back. Lexi’s hand lingered in the air for a moment.

He didn’t bother to close the bathroom door behind him. But he turned toward her, every hint of human emotion once again hidden behind a granite facade. He unbuttoned his jeans.

“You might want to turn around. I’m gonna leave the door open, just in case you decide to try and run.”

He lowered the zipper, hooked his thumbs in the waistband. “Or you can watch. It’s all the same to me.”

She managed to convince herself to turn around while he was in the process of shoving his jeans down. “I’m a doctor, Romano. No point in trying to shock me with nudity.” Then she heard the water running.

Lexi chanced a quick glance over her shoulder and was rewarded with an unobstructed view of his wide back and dimpled butt cheeks. He stood in the shower curtain still open, water cascading over him, trickling down, beading up. Steam rose from his skin, and she couldn’t look away.

Until he turned, and caught her looking. He seemed to pale a little bit, but before he could make some lewd comment, she turned toward the bed that was still made up. “Guess I’ll try to get some sleep like you said.”

He didn’t reply, so she crawled under the covers, clothes and all, curled up with her back toward him, and closed her eyes.

She was, she realized, sexually attracted to Romano. A man who had basically abducted her and who was determined to destroy the life’s work of her father. It was kind of sickening to admit it, but she’d never been one to indulge in denial. It was what it was. She’d just have to deal with it.