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Nightfire. Barbara McCauley
Читать онлайн.Название Nightfire
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Автор произведения Barbara McCauley
Жанр Зарубежные любовные романы
Издательство HarperCollins
One hour with Kane had left her feeling as if she’d been run over by a herd of elephants. It was putting it mildly to say that the lesson—like the man himself—had been intense. Her arms were sore from being grabbed and twisted, her wrists bruised and her weak knee, sensitive to extreme movement, was throbbing from the kicks he’d taught her.
But the physical discomfort was nothing compared to the emotional turmoil she was feeling. Though Kane had been completely professional, aloof even, the feel of his hands on her, his body pressed against hers repeatedly, had left her a nervous wreck. The contact might not have been gentle, but it sure as hell had been intimate, and her reaction to his closeness was anything but professional.
And Kane hadn’t batted an eye, not even when he’d wrapped his arms tightly around her and held her against him while he instructed her on the move to break out. It had taken every ounce of mind power to even listen to him, let alone follow his directions. She’d failed miserably on that hold, which only meant that they had to practice it more than all the others. Over and over he’d held her, and each time it seemed closer and tighter, until she felt as if he might pull her inside him.
Frowning, she glanced over at him. Not once, not when he’d held her, not even when her breasts had been crushed against his chest, had she seen his expression change. Not once had he looked at her as a man looks at a woman.
So what if she wasn’t his type? she thought irritably. It certainly shouldn’t bother her because one man was indifferent to her.
She settled back into her seat and stared out the window. So why then, did she feel so damn annoyed?
When it started to rain again, Kane began to seriously wonder if Seattle ever saw blue sky. It was certainly a far cry from Florida. Swearing silently, he flipped on the windshield wipers and checked the rearview mirror for the white sedan that had been with them since they’d left the house. The sedan, driven by a kid named Tony Salinas, was two car lengths behind. Tony had only worked security for Oliver Westcott for the past six months, and at twenty-five he hadn’t the experience Kane would have preferred. But his records were clean and the six years he’d spent in the navy had earned him a congressional Medal of Honor following a skirmish in the Gulf. Though Kane had little respect left for the military itself, he had tremendous respect for the men who enlisted and served. When Kane exited the freeway, Tony followed.
Beside him, Allison gestured to the left. “Take the next turn at—”
“Second Street,” he finished for her.
She frowned at him, then glanced back at the car following them. “I still don’t understand why it’s necessary for both you and Tony to come to the center with me. There’s at least a dozen people around all the time. What could possibly happen?”
He looked at her sharply. “How well do you know Tony?”
“Tony Salinas?”
“How well?” Impatience edged his words.
She definitely didn’t like the implication she heard in Kane’s voice. “Not well at all,” she ground out.
The back wheels of the van skidded as Kane took the turn too fast. “I told you I’m not interested in your personal life, Allison. I’m just doing my job. If Tony’s objectivity might be blurred because you two have—or had—something going, I’ll request someone else.”
She faced him, carefully enunciating her words. “I do not have—nor have I ever had—a relationship with Tony Salinas. I’ve met him exactly twice, both times in a professional capacity as security for my father’s company.”
Arms folded tightly, she turned away. Kane might have smiled at her irritation, but the fact was he was feeling the same damn thing. He tried to tell himself it was the lack of clues and suspects he had to work with on this case, but he knew—whether he wanted to admit it or not—that wasn’t the truth.
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