Page 45 of The Death Dealer

She glared.

The corner of his mouth ticked up as his irritation melted away. His was a faceshecould watch all day and never tire of.

“Same,” he murmured as his gaze flitted about, touching her every feature until it finally landed on her gloss-coated lips.

“Same? Oh!”

Ah, her thought about watching him. She was flattered to think he might find her asfascinating,but not so gratified that it wasonlywhen she’d layered on face paint he’d found it so.

“The makeup has nothing to do with how lovely you are, Dalli.” Using his fingertips, he traced the lines of her face, ending with her nose. “It’s hard to believe Ieverthought you were provincial or plain. Or that I’ve only known youa short timewhen it feels like I’ve known you forever.”

She sucked in a breath. With careful precision, she blanked her thoughts and expression. It wouldn’t do to lethimknow how easilyhecould weave the seductive spell over her or how fast she could succumb.

“There are people I meet and think the same thing about,” she said with a tight smile. “Similar personalities and a strange familiarity are all it is.”

Drawing away, she headed toward the stairs.Hedropped into place beside her, matching her stride. “Maybe, but you can’t discount the attraction we feel.”

“I can’t. But I can certainly ignore it.” She stopped and waited until he retraced his steps back to her. When they were facing one another, she shook her head. “You’re hot and cold, Trevor. You don’t know what you want or why you want it. No oneis ever going totell you what to do because you’ll rebel.”

“That’s not true.” His indignation scraped along her nerve endings.

“It is. You hate your chosen career path,the factyou’re alone without a partner to love, and you resent having to babysit me.”

“Dalli—”

“Zip it.” Seeing the wariness in his expression tugged at her heartstrings. “Let me finish.None of it’sabadthing, and I’m not criticizing you.I’m stating the obvious.” His uncomfortableness built, and hers did to feel it. Whatthe helldid it mean that they were now sensing each other’s stronger emotions? “Trevor, you won’t let yourself care because you believe you’re cursed. There’s no such thing. You’ve bought into a made-up notion. Witches are the worst with that crap, and they fall prey to superstition and what might be nothing more than coincidence.”

“There is no such thing as coincidence in myline ofwork.”

“Circumstance, then.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” The gruffness in his tone was born from his hurt and the convictions he’d clung to his entire adult life.

“Idoknow. I’ve seen enough of it throughout the rainforest tribes. People cling to what they believe—good or bad—and become dogmatic.You’re convincedthere’s a time limit on love for anyone with the last name Blane. It’s just not true.”

“Christ, Dalli!It must be nice to livein your perfect world, where nothing bad happens, and everything is roses.Or, in your case, orchids. But it’s not the case in therealworld.”

His scorn stung, but she lifted her chin.

“I’ve experienced yourreal world, Trevor. My parents died when I was young. My sisters, Josie and Taryn, are constantly at each other’s throats because Josie took it upon herself to protect us by sleeping with Morcant. Iwas almost run down, and today,I was shot.” She inhaled deeply and looked him dead in the eye. “I’m falling hard for a guy who is a complete coward when it comes to love. It’s not all orchids, babe. Far from it, if you ask me.”

CHAPTER17

As Trevor sat down the length of the table from Soleil, he tried his best to concentrate on what Lily Stockton wasjabberingabout. Yet his mind returned again and again to Soleil’s scathing retort.

“I’m falling hard for a guy who is a complete coward when it comes to love.”

He snuck a glance her way.

She’d refused to drop the glamour entirely.Onlygoingso far as to return her body to its original form, but her makeupleantto her supermodel good looks.Had he first seen her this way, he’d have never thought her plain, and he’d likely have tried to get her into bed within minutes of meeting her, believing she would know the score. Gorgeous, full-of-themselves women usually did. Hell, his last lover wrote the book on manipulating men with her beauty.

Deni.

She’d disappeared without a trace, and the best Trackers had been unable to locate her. Seven glorious months they’d spent together, making love and plans.Laughingover the most ridiculous things. But she’d left him. No explanation. No note. Only the diamond ring he’d bought, intending to propose to her.There itsat, seemingly gaudyinits black velvet box placed strategically at the center of the kitchen island, with nothing around it. Not even a fucking fruit bowl.

She’d discovered it in his sock drawer, and the message was clear. Trevor would always be alone. Anisland unto himself, with no one and nothing to cling to. Two years later, her defection still stung. Closure would’ve helped. That and not laying his fucking heart at her feet for her to stomp on after he’d told her all his deepest, darkest secrets. Was one damned discussion to say why she was leaving too much to ask?

“Trevor.”

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