Night Mist. Helen R. Myers

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Night Mist - Helen R. Myers


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when she froze. What was that? A footstep?

      She pressed her ear closer to the door and listened. For a moment everything remained silent, and then…it wasn’t exactly a step she heard, but a slight shifting of the floorboards, as though someone was trying to hide their movements.

      Could it be Jay Barnes? What was he doing up?

      The question was, how could anyone sleep in this sauna?

      Rachel shut her eyes and tried to think. Maybe his hand hurt him worse than he’d admitted.

      No doubt he’s been lying about a number of things, but if you open that door you may find out more than is healthy to know.

      It was a risk she felt she needed to take. She’d had enough of trying to answer her own questions. Too many of them were being left unexplained. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be careful.

      Ever so cautiously, she slid back the lock. Seeing how her hands were shaking, she quickly released the other lock and swung the door open.

      A dark figure sprang toward her, had probably begun to do so the instant he’d heard the door opening. He moved with a speed and agility that Rachel found terrifying. She gasped and fell back against her opened door. With nowhere to go, she waited for the inevitable.

      But rather than attack, he rested a hand on the right side of her head and growled, “What do you think you’re doing?”

      Fair question—if she’d been in the mood to be fair. “Me? What are you doing? Have you any idea what a fright—You could’ve hurt me!”

      “If I’d meant to, you wouldn’t be standing.”

      His cold confidence made her stare in mute disbelief. She forgot how hot she was and how brave she’d always believed she could be in the face of adversity. All she knew was that she’d made a ridiculously big mistake by opening the door. “You’re a very strange man, Mr. Barnes,” she replied, deciding to salvage what was left of her common sense and retreat. Fast. “If you’ll excuse me…”

      With a mere shifting of his weight, he blocked her with his left shoulder. “Not so fast.”

      The maneuver brought him so close she could feel the heat of his half-naked body merging with her own. It created a near-electric aura between them. Barely able to move her lips, Rachel whispered, “Please get out of my way.”

      “After you answer some questions.”

      “If anyone should be answering questions, it’s you. I’m not the one creeping around out there.”

      “Aren’t you?”

      “Of course not.”

      “You’re saying you’ve been in here all along?”

      “Yes. Why?”

      “Never mind.”

      “Did you hear something before? Please tell me. I’d thought I’d heard something, too.”

      “Do you always open your door at night to check on strange sounds?” he asked, his cool sarcasm running over her words.

      She drew a deep, controlling breath. “No, of course not. I suppose I assumed it was you. I thought maybe you were feeling worse and might need help.”

      “Help.” His gaze slid downward and he curled his lips, but there was nothing amused or congenial about the smile. “Exactly what did you have in mind?”

      A scorching fever swept through her, growing less ignorable with each second he continued to stare. Unable to resist, she glanced downward herself and groaned inwardly.

      No wonder he was treating her as though she’d propositioned him. During her brief, restless sleep, two buttons on her shirt had opened, leaving a gaping slash that couldn’t look more suggestive if she’d tried.

      Well, there was no sense in pretending it hadn’t happened. Forcing herself to match him stare for stare, she buttoned up, drawling, “If you’ve seen enough?”

      “Do you really want an answer?”

      “No,” she replied coolly, fighting to ignore the sensations churning within her. It was because he looked so much like Joe Becket, she told herself. What she felt for Jay Barnes, however, was sheer, unadulterated dislike. “About your hand, does it hurt?”

      “I feel it.”

      “And that’s your remedy?” she asked, nodding to the can he lifted to his mouth.

      “It beats the stuff coming out of our water taps. You look a little warm yourself—want a swallow?”

      She eyed the can, thought about placing her lips where his had been, and her temperature rose another few degrees. “No, thank you.”

      “What’s the matter? Afraid? I don’t have anything you have to worry about catching.”

      She was afraid, period…of him, of herself, of what was happening every second their gazes held. “I simply don’t care for any, that’s all.”

      Jay Barnes gave a brief shake of his head. “Where did they find you?”

      Lost, she frowned. “Pardon?”

      “Forget it. Let’s just say, I’m game if you are, Doctor.”

      She didn’t understand a thing he was saying, but she understood an intimated insult when she heard one. “Mr. Barnes, I’m beginning to believe that if there’s a game being played, so far only you know the rules.”

      “And that’s how I intend to keep it. All you need to understand is that if you want to save that gorgeous neck of yours, you’d better beat it while you still have a chance.”

      She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I work here!”

      His gaze swept over her one more time and lingered on her mouth. “Fine,” he growled, finally pushing away from the door. “Have it your own way.”

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