Page 3 of Lethal Pursuit

A powerful current of sensual heat swept throughout her body, making her tingle all over. The crowd dissolved away as her vision tunneled on him. He was singing toheras his long, strong fingers caressed the keys. Watching those lean, strong hands move, she wanted to feel them drifting over her bare skin just as smoothly, for her body to be the center of that focus. He was both protective healer and lethal warrior. Which would he be in bed? Gentle as his hands were on those keys? Or fierce and demanding, giving over to the unquenched fire she’d seen burning in his eyes that day?

The tantalizing prospect started a curious melting sensation low in her belly.

Jerking herself from her wayward thoughts, she raised one eyebrow at him and gave an impressed nod. His grin widened a fraction before he finally looked away. A strange sense of disappointment hit her and she felt colder all of a sudden, as if the temperature had just dropped.

When the song finished, she was sad to see his performance end. This time he stood and waved at the crowd, that charming smile in place as he shook his head to politely decline their demand for more. Someone else came on stage with an acoustic guitar and set up to play. Jackson hopped down from the stage with an easy, athletic grace she appreciated, and headed right for her. She stood her ground, surprised that her heart was pounding. He made his waythrough the crowd, pausing only to smile and say a word or two to the people who spoke to him. Thanking them for their enthusiastic compliments, no doubt. Someone had sure taught him nice manners.

Maya waited with her arms folded across her chest and her feet braced apart, a half smile on her face as he approached. Part of her was surprised that he’d seek her out publicly after their last meeting, but it didn’t bother her. She didn’t give a shit what people thought or said about her. She’d learned a long time ago not to let that sort of petty crap bother her. Besides, she had a solid rep here with the Security Forces. Her superiors liked her work ethic and dedication. No one would dare accuse her of fraternization with an enlisted if she talked with Jackson here, and she was too smart to get caught if she decided to take things further with him after this.

When he was close enough to hear her, she shook her head slightly in admonishment. “I didn’t know you could sing or play piano.”

He gave a modest shrug, stopping a step away from her. “You know what they say about us PJs. Jack of all trades, master of none.”

She liked his self-deprecating style. Most men she knew went the other way, straight into arrogant asshole territory. He was a welcome change from the chest-beating, alpha male machismo she was so used to dealing with. “Are you part of the concert tomorrow?”

Up close he was even more gorgeous and smelled delicious—a combination of fabric softener and wintergreen. His tan skin held a bronze undertone, maybe from some Mediterranean ancestor. The cut of his high cheekbones hinted at possible Native American ancestry too.

He rubbed a hand over his strong jaw, covered with a few days’ worth of nearly black stubble. It made him look rugged and intensely masculine. Sexy beyond words. “Naw, I’m just helpin’ out to make sure the sound system is working right.”

“Maybe you should reconsider. Looks like you’ve already got quite an enthusiastic fan base.” And groupie base if he wanted one, she thought with a surprising bolt of jealousy.

He ignored the comment, that keen, dark gaze zeroing in on her right cheek. “So, what’s with the shiner?”

She raised her battered right hand to touch the sore spot, now stinging under a new rush of blood that had her whole face turning hot. She never blushed. What was wrong with her? “It’s nothing.”

“Whoa.” Frowning, he caught her hand in a firm but gentle grip before she could pull away. Maya’s pulse leaped, warmth radiating up her arm from the innocent contact. He’d never touched her before, had never attempted it. Not even when he’d had her against that wall and there’d been no one around to see them, and even though he must have known she’d wanted him to.

Maya glanced down to where he cradled her hand in his larger ones. They were broad, long-fingered, the nails clean and short. Strong but gentle hands, capable of saving a life or taking it, depending on the situation. For some reason she found that extreme contrast sexy as hell. Her heart thumped hard against her ribs while she did her best to appear unaffected by his touch. She wasn’t sure how to read the situation. Was this his idea of an olive branch? An unspoken truce?

“You’ve been fighting.” He tsked.

“Comes with the territory.” His touch felt way too good. She should pull away. God knew she’d thought about him far too often in the past few weeks, wondering what might have happened if he’d made a move on her instead of walking away. She would have wrapped around him and kissed the breath right out of him, buried her fingers in that thick, dark hair. He kept it cut to regulation length, even though he could get away with relaxed grooming standards because of his position as a battlefield airman. It said a lot about his personality.

Raising his head, Jackson gave her a speculative look, a hint of amusement gleaming in his eyes. He lifted one dark eyebrow. “Just what’ve you been doing to yourself, Lieutenant?”

He was only holding her hand and it was still enough to play hell on her nervous system. “Nothing.” Tingles raced from her fingertips to her shoulder. What would happen if she kissed him? Leaned up and pressed her lips to that full, tempting mouth inches above her own? She mentally shook herself. “Just a few angry insurgents and a resistant drunk. But hey, you should see the other guy.”

One side of his mouth curved upward at her attempt at humor.“Yeah, I bet you pack quite a punch.”

The admiration in his voice warmed her inside. She’d fought all her life to earn respect from others, especially men. From what she’d seen, Jackson was all about giving women respect. She had no experience with that sort of man.

He wasn’t done with his inspection yet. He ran his gaze over her once again, and this time she was certain it held more than the clinical attention of a trained medical professional. Though the masculine interest was subtle, it brought more of that unnerving tingling in its wake. He still hadn’t released her hand. “You hurt anywhere else?”

Why, was he offering to look her over? She almost laughed. “No, I’m all right. No broken bones, so I’m good to go.”

“You sure about that? Two of your knuckles are pretty swollen and bruised.”

“I’ve broken plenty of bones. Trust me, my hand’s fine.”

“Is it?” Studying her reaction, Jackson gently probed at the painful joints with his thumb, applying careful pressure until she had to fight back a wince.

Okay, so maybe the bottom knuckle of her middle finger had a crack in it or something. She stayed still, kept her expression neutral. “See? Just bruised. No big deal.”

“If you say so.” The look in his eyes told her he wasn’t buying it. Discomfited by his genuine concern, she pulled her hand away and he let it drop. It bothered her that she immediately regretted the loss of his touch.

Jackson set his hands on his hips and studied her like he didn’t know quite what to make of her. The move emphasized the breadth of his chest, the way his olive drab T-shirt pulled taut over the heavy muscles of his torso. His defined biceps flexed below the short sleeves. The man tookverygood care of himself. She liked that too. “If I asked nicely, would you go get an X-ray on that hand?” he asked.

“Nope.”

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