Lifemate Connections: Eryn

Chapter Two

Eryn fled to the restroom. After checking to ensure no one was there, she leaned against the vanity and let out a long, slow breath. Where had men like Grey been hiding all her life? Suspect or not, the man wasn't only seriously sexy, but he was seriously dangerous when it came to her blood pressure. And he certainly knew how to show a woman a good time—even in a short amount of time.

Which begged the question—why come here for sex?

Surely a man with his prowess and looks only had to crook a finger and he'd have a dozen eager women panting for his every attention—imbalance of the sexes or not.

It just didn't make any sense, especially when he'd admitted he wasn't here to find a partner with whom he could have children.

Frowning lightly, she did a quick clean up, then twisted the right ear stud. "What?"

"Having a good time, are we?" Jack's voice was dry.

"The question is, are you?" she retorted.

"Well, actually, the boys and I thought you could be a bit more vocal. Silent panting just doesn't do the job."

"Tough. I'm not a screamer." Though she had been known to yodel on occasion. It was an unfortunate side effect of being a beagle shifter. "And if you called me away to say that, I'm going to bite you next time I see you."

"I might enjoy it."

"I very much doubt it. Being bitten by a hound dog ain't quite the same as being bitten by a woman."

"I guess not." Amusement touched his voice. "We did a search on his name."

"And?"

"Grey Stockard doesn't exist."

Surprise, surprise. "How many aliases can one man have?"

"A few, apparently."

"But he does use Grey on most of them, so maybe that's his real first name."

"Possibly. But a search on the name Grey revealed thousands and thousands of them. Apparently, it was one of the more popular choices thirty to thirty five years ago."

Which was about the age Grey looked—though with shifters, you never really could be sure, as we tend to age at a far slower rate than humans. "What about his claim of knowing the owner?"

"We're checking that right now."

"What about his claim that security cruise through the bar looking for browsers?"

"The club never mentioned that sort of security arrangement, but then, they may not have figured it important."

"Even the smallest tidbit could be important on a case like this, couldn't it?" Especially if the killer turned out to be one of the browsing security officers.

"Yes. You got anything for us?"

"Yeah, he has no scent." She closed her eyes, imagining herself in his arms again, surrounded by his heat, the raw sensual smell of him that was not his actual scent, but delicious all the same. Desire stirred in her veins, a reminder that she'd only just knocked the edge off need. Complete satisfaction was a long way off yet. And, unfortunately, she very much suspected there was only one man who could fill the demands of her body.

"What do you mean?" Jack asked.

"It's like he's been wiped clean. There's nothing on him."

Nothing to track him by, which might well be the point.

"Is something like that usual?"

"No, it's extremely unusual."

"Meaning he's done it on purpose?"

"Very likely." Though how on earth did you erase a base scent?

"Then we track him once he comes out of that bar, and see if we can actually get something on him."

"You'd better use a good tracker. He's a shifter of some kind and may well sense them."

"So we use a bird shifter."

"It'd be a good idea." At least Grey wouldn't scent a bird.

"Is that all you buzzed for?"

"No. Harrison just walked into the bar. Go suss him out."

"And leave Grey? Won't that make him suspicious?"

"Can't see why. You made it clear you were here to play the field for a while."

Yeah, but she didn't want to play the field. She only wanted to play with Grey. Which was a big bad when she knew absolutely nothing about the man.

"Give me a position on Harrison."

"Table near the corner window."

"I'll go give him a sniff."

"Do that, and report back. We'll see where we go from there."

She knew where she wanted to go from there. To bed.

With Grey. "Turning you off again."

"Darlin', you could never turn me off."

She grinned. She'd learned very early on that Jack was a serial flirt. As long as they were female, he didn't seem to care whether they were young, old, beautiful or plain. He treated them all to the same level of sexy banter. Why he was still single she had no idea. The man was definitely a good catch—though, unfortunately, not her type. If she ever did settle down, it would be with another shifter, not a human. She'd seen enough mixed marriages fizzle out to not want to try one herself.

"Jack, you're incorrigible."

"That's the nicest thing anyone has said to me—does that mean we can get down and get dirty?"

She laughed. "No, it does not."

"Damn."

"Bye Jack."

She turned off the receive and checked her reflection in the mirror. The heat in her cheeks had faded a little, but not the excited gleam in her eyes. She looked like a women on the hunt, which she supposed she was. Only the object of her lust was not a man she could see at this particular point in time.

She sighed, ran her fingers through her short hair to settle it back into place, then headed out into the main bar area again, grabbing a drink before moving on in search of her quarry.

Harrison was one of several men clustered around a petite blonde. Eryn flared her nostrils, carefully searching the scents swirling around her, working through the thick maze of flowers, forest, and fruits, finally catching a brief, tantalizing taste of the one she was looking for. But the slither was gone before she could pinpoint a direction. Frowning, she looked around to ensure no one was watching her, then she slopped half of her drink on the floor. She took a step, pretended to slide, and cannoned into Harrison's hard form with a grunt.

There wasn't much fat on the man, that was for sure.

"Hey, careful there, little lady," he said, his hands firm on her arms as he caught and righted her.

"Sorry," she said, forcing contriteness into her voice. "I slid on the wet floor."

Keeping one hand on her arm, he frowned down at the floorboards. "Some idiot must have spilt their drink. We'd better get someone to clean that before somebody gets hurt."

His voice was rich, and held a twang that reminded her of the Old West. In his faded denims, blue checked shirt and brown boots, he certainly fit the image of a cowboy. Only she had a suspicion the brown mop of hair had never been restrained by a hat, and that the shiny boots hadn't even tread across a well kept lawn, let alone the wilds of a cattle ranch.

He snapped his fingers, calling over a waitress, then his blue gaze settled on her. As handsome as his rugged features were, there was damn little in the way of response from her hormones. Maybe they were still too busy languishing in the afterglow of her brief time with Grey.

She raised a hand and brushed the droplets of wine from his shirt. His body was taut under the cotton fabric, his muscles well defined. "Lucky it's not red."

His grin was decidedly roughish. "It's only an old shirt anyways." He stuck out a huge hand. "Tate Harrison, at your service."

"Eryn James." She shook his hand, feeling the calluses across his palm. He might not be a cowboy, but he definitely wasn't a paper pusher, either. She lowered her shields a little, trying to catch his scent without getting too close. The air was a riot of aromas. They were too close to the blonde and her entourage for her to pinpoint his scent from everyone else's.

"Listen, why don't we go over to the bar, and I'll buy you a drink to apologize for spilling mine all over you."

"Apologies aren't necessary, but I'm more than happy to accompany you to the bar."

He touched a hand to her back and guided her forward. His fingers were pleasantly warm through the gauzy material of her dress, but didn't brand her the way Grey's had.

Damn it, why was her mind so fixated on the man?

They found an untaken space down near the end of the bar, and she ordered herself a wine and him a beer.

He hunkered down a little, his shoulders brushing hers as he leaned muscular forearms on the mahogany surface and wrapped a paw around his drink. "You been coming here long?"

She met his gaze, seeing the blatant interest there and half wishing she could respond more than mildly. The man was first rate in the rugged looks department, and she very much suspected that if she hadn't met Grey first, her hormones might have latched onto a man like this.

But then, given the long drought they'd been suffering, they might have latched onto any man she found even remotely attractive. "First night."

"Ah. So you're merely testing the waters."

She nodded. "And I have no intention of settling on one overture until I test all those on offer."

"That goes without saying." He took a drink of beer, then added, "You looking for anything in particular?"

She couldn't help smiling. "Won't know that until I find it."

"Good. You'd be amazed at how many women come in here with preconceived ideas about what—who—would make a suitable mate."

She raised an eyebrow at the edge in his voice. "You sound more than a little peeved by that."

"Hell, yeah. Preconceived notions cut down the options—

for all of us."

"So you haven't had much luck here yourself?"

He shook his head. "Of course, I'm not here all that regular. I've spent time with eight or nine ladies, but nothing has ever eventuated."

"Beyond the realms of the bar, you mean?"

He nodded and raised a large hand. "Seems the hands of a plumber aren't what ladies want these days."

She raised a hand, placing her palm against his. His fingers dwarfed hers. "Then those ladies are idiots. I can't imagine the plumbing trade becoming obsolete any time soon, and you guys are certainly raking it in when it comes to the money side of things."

He grinned. "Most women don't realize that."

"Maybe you'd better start mentioning it."

"I just might." His fingers enclosed around hers. "Is my current company at all interested in plumbers?"

"She would be, if she didn't already have an offer on the table tonight."

"And he let you walk away from him? The man is a fool."

"Well, he did have to arrange a room."

"Little lady, if you'd agreed to be mine for the night, there'd be no way in hell I'd let you leave my side until I got you into a room and had my wicked way with you."

She had a vision of his rough hands skimming across her naked, burning skin, and her pulse leapt. Maybe she wasn't as immune to this man as she'd thought.

She raised an eyebrow, a grin teasing her lips. "And would it be wicked?"

His blue gaze practically smoldered. "Wicked and wild.

That's a promise."

She drew his hand close, kissing his fingers, drawing in his scent as she did so. Beneath the rich aroma of man was the delicious hint of musk and earthiness. And no hint of the cloying smell of death.

Not the murderer, then. Which made him safe to play with, if she chose to do so.

"I might just hold you to that promise."

"Please do."

She untwined her fingers from his and picked up her drink.

"Will you be here tomorrow night?"

"Probably not. But I might be able to make it Monday."

"Then maybe I'll see you then."

He nodded. "If I'm here, and you're here, you can bet your boots I'll be seeing you."

She grinned and raised her glass. "To the possibility of Monday night, then."

He clinked his glass against hers. "And to the prospect of wild and wicked sex."

Oh, yes, please. But the image that darted through her mind was not that of the man who stood in front of her. She rose on her toes and kissed his suntanned cheek, drawing in his scent again just to be sure. Definitely no springtime, definitely no hint of death, and definitely safe to play with.

But safe wasn't what her hormones wanted, apparently.

Drink in hand, she made her way back to the restroom.

This time it was occupied, so she had to wait several minutes before it was secure enough to get in contact with Jack.

"It's not Harrison," she said, when she could.

"You sure?"

"Yes. Death is not a smell you can easily hide, and our murderer was entrenched in it." So entrenched, she suspected it was the evil in his soul she was sensing more than his actual scent.

"Which leaves us with Stockard and Gantry. If either of them aren't the killer, we're in the shit."

"Was this the only bar all five women attended?"

"Afraid so. And the only men all five saw are our three current suspects."

"Grey said he's only been here for a week."

"Grey lied."

"But why lie over something as simple as that?"

"Darlin, if I knew that, I could probably tell you whether he was our murderer or not."

She frowned. Somehow, she suspected the reasons for Grey's lies were a whole lot more complicated than either Jack or she suspected. "Have you been able to confirm whether they saw any of these men outside the bar's limits?"

"Afraid not. He's picking loners, and even though three of the five lived in apartment complexes, none of the neighbors heard or saw anything."

Nothing unusual in that. The head-down-see-nothing attitude seemed to have pervaded society ages ago. "And security cameras?"

"You've read the reports. Most of the complexes were old and didn't have cameras installed in the foyers."

Which was a required feature in all new apartment buildings. Even some of the older buildings were installing them for security purposes—hers had, and she knew many of her neighbors felt safer for it.

"Has Gantry come into the pub yet?"

"No."

"Then what do you want me to do?" Even as she asked the question, part of her was willing him to give the right answer.

"You up to spending more time with Grey?"

She was up, down, and sideways for it. Hell, she was practically combusting at the thought. "You do know I'm a shifter, right?"

She could almost hear the gears in his mind turning, wondering where the hell she was leading with a comment like that. Eventually, he said, voice a little wary, "Yeah. So?"

"So, I haven't had sex in six months."

He burst out laughing. "Damn it, woman, that's an ache I would willingly have eased."

"Intercourse between departmental employees is not currently approved."

"Darlin', for you I'd break the rules."

She grinned. "I thought you loved your job."

"I do. But you're not the only one who's suffering a drought."

"Well, if you stopped listening in on everyone else having sex and started following up some of the offers you get, you wouldn't be suffering a drought."

"But that would mean making an effort. I'm not sure I'm ready for that."

"Then continue to suffer the drought," she said dryly, "because this shifter isn't offering relief."

"Well, damn."

She smiled. "Where's Grey?"

He paused. "Coming out of room three-o-five and heading toward the stairs."

"Looking for me."

"Most likely." Jack hesitated. "You really don't have to take this any further."

"But if I don't, we may never get any leads on this killer."

"Yeah, but still—" "Jack, I'm safe in the club, and I'm more than capable of protecting myself outside it. I want this killer stopped as much as the rest of you."

"But bedding suspects goes way beyond the call of duty."

"Not for a shifter," she said dryly. Hell, a shifter in a rutting haze would shag anything with two legs and a dick.

Not that she was anywhere near as desperate as that, but given the way her hormones had latched onto Grey, she'd been a lot closer to the mark than she'd thought.

"Shifters have a whole different set of morals when it comes to sex," she continued. Humans might have finally caught on to the "promiscuity is good" attitude, but shifters had been there forever. "That's part of the reason I was picked, wasn't it?"

"Well, that and the fact you resemble the other victims."

"So quit worrying about me, and just start worrying about where you're going to fire those frustrated little sperms of yours when you're listening to me having the best sex of my life."

She cut off the sound of his choked laughter and left the restroom. Grey was making a beeline across the dance floor, heading straight towards her.

How had he known she was in the restroom?

He was still a good ten feet away when the force of him hit her, sucking away her breath and leaving her gasping. Her gaze rose to his. The gray depths smoldered with both desire and annoyance, and his passionate mouth was little more than a thin line. Trouble, with a capital T, headed her way.

And she couldn't wait for it to explode all over her. Or in her, as the case may be.

He stopped so close that all she could smell was heat and lust and man. Her breast brushed against the soft wool of his sweater, sending little tingles of electricity shooting across her body. God, she was puddling with desire for the man, and he hadn't done anything except glare down at her.

What the hell was going on between them? They were complete and utter strangers who'd shared a brief but amazing encounter. Yes, some sort of connection was logical, but this went beyond the usual sexual vibe of shifters. And it was far stronger than anything she'd felt in her life so far.

"I told you I'd come get you if you didn't follow me."

His voice was a low rumble that echoed across the recesses of her mind. It was as if she were somehow feeling his words in her head as well as actually hearing them. She raised an eyebrow, forcing herself to remain still and calm when all she wanted to do was throw herself into this man's arm and beg him to take her.

"And I told you I'd think about it."

"I have a room booked."

"And I have a room full of prospects to explore."

He considered her for a moment, then his gaze slid down her body, taking in every inch, exploring in a way she wished his hands would explore. By the time he'd finished little beads of sweat dotted her body and her breath was little more than pants of desire.

The man was definitely dynamite.

"Tell you what," he said, the smile touching his lips both dangerous and confident. "Give me an hour. If, in that time, I don't manage to give you the best orgasm of your life, you walk free."

Walking right now might be a problem, let alone after she'd spent an hour in his presence. "And if you do manage such a feat, what happens?"

His slow grin became full-blown and damn near blew all her circuitry. "Then you're mine for the entire night."

Oh, yes please…

She took a deep breath, trying to get some air into lungs that felt as if they were burning. "And how are we going to judge whether you've been successful or not?"

"You're a beagle shifter, aren't you?"

She stared at him for a minute, wondering how he'd known. While shifters innately recognized others of their kind, it was unusual to be able to pinpoint the exact breed. "Yes."

"And beagles yodel when they hit the extremes, don't they?"

Jack was going to have a field day with that bit of news.

Especially if she did yodel. "Yeah, but we don't want to deafen other patrons." Or turn them off their own activities.

"Our room is shielded against extremes of noise. Shifters attend these bars as often as humans, and the owners do cater for the rutting requirements of different breeds."

Something else the manager hadn't thought to mention when he'd been briefing her. What else had he left out? As she'd said to Jack, even the tiniest bit of info could lead them to the killer.

And she really, really, hoped that the killer didn't have wicked gray eyes and a mind-blowing smile.

"Deal?" he asked softly.

"Deal," she said. And hoped like hell she didn't end up regretting it.

He placed a hand on her elbow, his touch seeming to scald her skin as he led her up the stairs and down the long corridor to one of the end rooms. She glanced up, checking the position of the security cams, knowing Jack would be watching through them. She gave him a covert smile and a wink before Grey guided her inside and locked the door behind them.

As rooms went, it was pretty basic. The walls were done in a God-awful red, while the carpet and ceiling were a beige that might once have been white. The bed was king size and covered in plain cotton sheets. There was also a sofa, and to her right, a small bathroom.

"Love the color scheme," she said dryly, raising an eyebrow as she turned to face him. The lust so evident in his expression damn near fried her brains. She swallowed heavily and added, "Was there no other choice?"

"Humans equate red with sexy." He shrugged, his muscles rippling enticingly under his sweater. "And the choice was red, black or white."

"Great color range." Her words came breathless again. He was far too close, and breathing air had become dangerously scant.

"Well, people don't come here to admire the walls."

She certainly hadn't… Thought stuttered to a halt as his hand skimmed her side, then slid up her spine to her dress's zipper.

"And there's only one thing I came here to admire," he continued, his voice a low growl that did strange things to her already erratic pulse rate. "Right now, she's far too covered for my liking."

He slid down the zipper with agonizing slowness, then moved his hands back to her shoulders and gently pushed the straps down her arms. The dress shimmied down her body, pooling at her feet. She stepped free and kicked it to one side.

He stood back and his gaze roamed down her once more, taking in her breasts, her curves, her legs, as slowly and as devoutly as a connoisseur of the Old Masters might inspect the Mona Lisa. It was an intimate inspection that made her burn, until she was more than ready to take or be taken. But she had a suspicion that this time, hard and fast was not an option.

Unless she forced the issue, which she was more than a little inclined to do. While logically she knew it was impossible for someone to physically explode with lust, that's exactly what she thought might happen if she didn't get some serious loving sooner rather than later.

"Glorious," he whispered, his gaze rising to hers again.

"Absolutely glorious."

His words made her heart do strange things. Glorious was not a word she would have used to describe herself, but she certainly loved the way the word sounded on his lips. Loved the way he looked at her as he said it.

Somehow, she found the strength to say, "Equality of the sexes is law rather than an option these days. I demand equal ogling time."

He smiled. "I stripped you, so you should return the favor."

No one this sexy had to suggest that twice. She closed the brief distance between them and slid her hands under his sweater. His skin was hot against her palms, his muscles well defined. The sweater bunched against her forearms as she reached his chest, then his shoulders, the wool smelling of masculinity and raw desire. He raised his arms, helping her only when their height difference meant she couldn't tug the sweater free. He tossed it into the corner with her dress as she skimmed her hands back down his chest and washboard abs. Her fingers hit the button on his jeans, the cool metal a sharp contrast against the heat of his skin. Her skin.

She raised her gaze to his as she slowly undid the button and slid down the zipper, watching his pupils expand with desire, until the black had almost covered the storm clad gray.

Hooking her thumbs under the elastic of his shorts, she pushed them and his jeans down his legs with the same sort of agonizing slowness he'd used when he'd been admiring her. Which left her at eye level with his cock. He was thick and hard, and she couldn't wait to get him inside. To feel that hardness probing deep.

But there was some tasting to be done first.

After tossing aside his jeans and shorts, she placed butterfly kisses on both his thighs then ran her tongue across the base of his penis. He jumped, ever so slightly, and his soft groan was both a sound of sheer pleasure and an encouragement to do more.

She smiled and licked her way up and down his shaft, occasionally taking in his balls, enjoying his groans of pleasure, the way his cock leapt, as if straining to reach the warm wetness of her own desire. But she wasn't ready to offer him that yet, simply because he wasn't yet as ready as she to explode. So she laved her tongue back up, and swirled her lips around the tip of him before fully taking him into her mouth.

He thrust in response, his body shaking with the effort of restraint as she rolled her tongue around him, alternately tasting and sucking. His movements were becoming more urgent, the salty taste of him beginning to seep into her mouth, telling her he was close to the edge. But she didn't let him cross it, pulling back instead.

"Tease," he whispered thickly. "Perhaps you need some of your own medicine."

"What I need is you inside, right now."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and clambered up his body, positioning herself above him, then driving him deep. It felt like she was driving hot iron right through the very heart of her. Damn, it was so good.

He shuddered, his body responding instinctively, thrusting hard. Then he growled deep and slid his hands to her waist, determinedly pulling her off and placing her back on her feet.

He took a deep breath and released it slowly. It whispered across her cheeks as warmly as sin.

"Hard and fast is not going to make you yodel."

She grasped his cock, sliding her hand up and down, teasing him, caressing him. Wanting him to ache as fiercely as she ached. "Right now, I'll settle for simple satisfaction."

He pulled her hand away. "Damn it, woman, I want the whole night, not an hour. It's yodeling or nothing."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're willing to let me walk out that door right now? Let me find someone else who'll give me what I want?"

"No, I am not." He placed several fingers between her breasts, and gently propelled her backwards. "We had a deal, and you will hold to your side of it."

The backs of her knees hit the side of the bed. He gave her a sexy grin and lightly pushed, so that she fell backwards, then added, "You will yodel before the hour is up."

She arched an eyebrow, a smile teasing her lips. "I don't yodel for just anyone, you know."

"I'm not just anyone." He reached for the bottle of massage oil on the bedside table and flipped the top off. The rich smell of honey and citrus tantalized her senses. "Scoot up the bed and roll over."

She obeyed, her heart tripping so hard it would surely jump out of her chest any minute now. Having this man's hands on her was the closest thing to heaven she could have imagined. Heaven itself would be having him inside, thrusting deep and hard, but he seemed determined to draw this out as long as possible. Which she didn't really mind, despite all her protests.

"But you are just anyone, because I know nothing about you."

He knelt at the end of the bed, poured a large dollop of oil into his hands, and rubbed them together. "There's nothing much to tell."

Somehow, she very much doubted that. This man had as many secrets as his gray eyes had shades. "So you have no existence outside the realm of this club?"

His voice held an odd edge of bitterness. "You could say that. Close your eyes."

She did. He didn't start with her feet, as she'd half expected him to, but her upper legs. His big hands pressing and caressing her thighs, his thumbs scooting along the inside of her leg, teasing her, driving her insane with desire.

Her sigh was a thick sound of pleasure and frustration combined.

Yet as much as she'd have loved to simply lay there and enjoy his touch, she couldn't. She was here to question this man, and she had to keep trying to do that, even through the erotic assault on her senses.

"You implied that you're rich. Considering money has never fallen off trees, you must do something to get it."

"My family was wealthy. I inherited it."

The warm scent of honey and citrus curled through the air, arousing her senses almost as much as the steady, teasing closeness of his fingers. But somehow she retained enough presence of mind to continue the conversation. "So your parents are dead?"

He nodded, something she oddly felt rather than saw.

"Ages ago."

"In an accident?"

"No, murdered."

His touch lightly skimmed her vagina, teasing her from behind. She shuddered, and somehow resisted the urge to press into his fingers, to shift and make them slide deep inside, to where it ached so very badly. She licked her lips and, voice croaky with desire, said, "Oh. Sorry."

He didn't reply to that, just began working his way up her butt and across her back. Part of her mourned the loss of his touch further down, but his fingers were weaving such a spell that it felt as if she was walking a tightrope above a whirlpool of desire. A rope that was threatening to give way at any moment and plunge her headfirst into those glorious waters.

She wanted to drown in those waters. Just wanted to lay here and enjoy his touch and his presence. Instead, she asked, "Then what do you actually do?"

"Nothing terribly important."

She opened an eye and gave him a mock glare. "I'd really like to know a bit more about the man who intends to make me yodel."

His soft chuckle shivered across her skin and made her heart do strange little turns. "Who I am is not important.

What I can do is."

"Maybe to you." She paused, then decided to push him a little more. Gentle persuasion certainly wasn't getting her much in the way of information. "You know, I met a rather sexy plumber on the way to the restroom. In two minutes I found out more about him than I have with you in an hour.

Maybe I should just leave and seek out a partner more willing to share."

His grip tightened on her shoulder, his touch almost bruising. "You are mine."

"I belong to no one but myself."

The sudden edge of anger in her voice was unforced. If there was one thing guaranteed to raise a shifter's ire, it was the notion of "ownership." Way back in the past, before shifters had gained rights in the eyes of the law, they were considered genetic freaks who were more animal than human, so humans had been able to own, and generally abuse, a shifter as they saw fit. Even now, hundreds of years later, the mere mention of ownership or control was a guarantee of a firefight. And Grey, being a shifter himself, should have known better than to use such a word.

"And if I choose to walk out of here," she continued hotly.

"I will do so, and you had better not try to stop me."

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His gray eyes showed a moment of indecision, and perhaps just a little frustration, then it was gone, lost to the wintry depths.

He raised his hands. "If you want to walk, then do so now." His voice was flat, yet the air between them fairly burned with anger. Not hers. His. And it was aimed as much at himself as her. Odd, to say the least. "Because if you stay," he continued, "you will hold to our bargain. And be very aware of the fact that I intend to make you mine."

As much as she tried to retain her anger at his words, she couldn't. How could she, when being his for the night equaled many hours of sensual, erotic delights?

Yet as she continued to stare into the stormy depths of his eyes, she wasn't at all sure he was talking about just a night.

The shiver that ran across her skin was part anticipation, part alarm. And totally stupid. After all, hadn't he already stated he was merely cruising? That he wasn't looking for anything permanent?

For that matter, neither was she. Obviously, common sense had flown out the window in the scramble for satisfaction.

"All I'm asking is a fair exchange of information."

"What I do for a living doesn't affect what we both want—

or what I intend to do to you. Why are you so intent on delving into my life, when, right now, all that matters is quenching what lies between us?"

His voice was still flat, but his suspicion wasn't only in his words but swirling in the heated air between them. He was far too wary to be an innocent man, and yet, something within her just couldn't see him as a killer. Not of innocent, lonely women, anyway.

Or did she simply want to believe that so she could be free to enjoy his touch without regret, without worry?

"I don't think wanting to know a little more about you is unreasonable. Even if both of us know nothing will come of this liaison." She sat up. "This is ridiculous. I don't even know why I'm here."

He raised an eyebrow at that, an almost condescending smile touching his luscious lips. "You're here for the same reason I am. Amazing sex."

True, but he was here for reasons other than sex. Exactly what those reasons might be was what she had to uncover.

Amazing sex might be a pleasant by-product of her investigations, but it couldn't be the total sum. Not with this man. "I'm here to find a man to have kids with. You're merely playing. Truth is, I'm wasting my time with you."

"Great sex is never a waste of time."

She swung her legs off the bed and walked over to grab her dress. His expression was amused, as if he didn't really believe she'd actually walk out the door.

And suddenly she knew that's exactly what she had to do.

The suspicion that stung the air, as well as the way he reacted to personal questions, suggested he was well aware that she was here to find out more about him. It didn't matter why he suspected her, just that he did. And if she wanted to retrieve the situation, she'd have to walk out. Staying would only confirm his suspicions—and that could be dangerous.

"Great sex is something I can find anywhere. I'm after a whole lot more." There was a ring of truth in her words that surprised even her. "Thanks for reminding me about that."

She grabbed her shoes, then turned her back on him and walked out.

And tried to ignore the frustrated screaming of her hormones.