Page 28 of Diagnosis Attraction

“Did you go to the cops when those guys were chasing you—or try to run away?”

“I guess I tried to run away.”

He put twenty miles between the murder scene and themselves before pulling into the parking lot of a motel chain.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back, and slump down in the seat so you’re not so visible.”

She didn’t question him as she slid down and watched him disappear into the lobby. He was back in under five minutes with a key card.

“I asked for a room away from the highway,” he said as he drove around to the back and pulled up in front of one of the units.

They both climbed out, and he unlocked the room. She’d held herself together in the car, but as soon as they were inside, she started to shake, leaning her shoulders against the door to stay upright.

“I’m … I’m sorry …,” she managed to say through chattering teeth.

“None of this is your fault.”

He reached for her, wrapping her in his arms, and it was the most natural thing in the world to mold herself to his rugged frame, letting her head drop to his shoulder.

He gathered her to himself, stroking his hand up and down her back.

She knew what he was thinking. He was cussing out the bastards who had put her—the two of them—in danger. And he was determined to figure out what the hell was going on.

But she felt his coherent thoughts—and hers—slipping away, overwhelmed by the sexual need zinging back and forth between them. It had been there from the first moment he’d touched her in the hospital, a doctor thinking he was going to do a routine exam and being shocked by the results. The connection betweenthem was stronger now, no doubt jolted up by her fear and his concern for her.

“I shouldn’t,” he whispered. “I’m taking advantage of your situation.”

“Do you really believe that? I mean, you can read my mind.”

She had to keep from punctuating the comment with a hysterical laugh.

“Maybe not,” he admitted.

There was more she could say, but she chose to demonstrate her feelings—and his—with actions, not words.

Twenty-four hours ago, he’d been technically a stranger. But that was only technical. The connection between them was stronger than with anyone else she’d ever met. Since they’d first touched, she’d ached to be alone with him in a bedroom. And now they were here.

The moment their mouths collided; it was like an old-fashioned kitchen match striking a rough surface. Unbearable heat flared, and she knew there was no going back—if either one of them was going to retain their sanity. That was a drastic way to put it, but she understood that it was true. Her lips moved frantically over his, and he did the same, feasting from her as his hands slid up and down her back.

They kissed like two lovers at the end of the world who had thought they would never see each other again. Then, each of themstumbled around a corner and found the other standing there.

Joy flooded through her. After all the long, lonely years, she had found someone who …

She couldn’t even put it into words. All she knew was that she and this man were on the same wavelength, both drinking in the magical reality of being in each other’s arms and each other’s minds. It was so wonderful, except for the pounding in her head that she’d felt when they’d kissed in the shed, was back.

“What is it?” she murmured.

“The headache?”

“Yes. Could be something bad—and we’d better stop.”

“Or stopping is the wrong thing to do.”

He made a sound of agreement, anchoring them more firmly together as he deepened the kiss, angling his head to drink in everything he could.

His thoughts were there for her to read. He had wanted her for what seemed like centuries, and it was gratifying to hear that silent admission.

Her arms crept around his neck as she kissed him with an intensity she had never imagined. When he finally lifted his mouth, they both struggled to drag in a full breath.

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