Page 25 of Breaking Danger
“Let me go, Mac.” She turned and met his dark eyes. “If we all work together, maybe we can ensure there are enough people to start again. I don’t want to think about what the world could become. I don’t want our child to grow up in the Dark Ages.”
She was still holding his hand and she could feel the emotions in him, strong and pure. He was so easy for her to read. Love. Pride. Fear.
Love won.
“Okay,” he grated. He stepped away. “Go save the world, Catherine.”
She smiled sadly at him. “Just our corner of it, my love.”
She tugged at the front of his shirt and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. When their lips broke apart, she hooked a hand around the back of his neck and put her lips to his ear. “Thank you, darling. You are definitely getting lucky as soon as I can take a breather.”
San Francisco
Beach Street
If they could tuneout the sounds of violent mayhem from outside, it could almost have been a…a date. A romantic one, at that. Sophie had pulled her curtains and lit candles. No real way of telling if the infected had a tropism toward light, but better safe than sorry.
And it did create an atmosphere.
If it weren’t the end of the world, it would be pretty cool. Jon Ryan sitting next to her at her table—he refused to let her set his place across from her. He wanted to sit right by her. As dates went, he was a ten, an impossibly handsome and attractive man. The candlelight just loved him. He was so attractive it was almost overkill. Strong, sharp features limned in the glow of the candles which picked out the gold highlights in his long hair. Much much more handsome than Brad Pitt had been, back in the day.
For all his looks, he didn’t have an actor’s softness. No, this guy was all tough male. Hard muscles which didn’t look like they’d been built in a gym. They looked like they’d been won in battle. Hands not actor-soft but hard and callused and nicked. Hands that were used.
Hands that knew what they were doing.
Heat flashed through her body at the memory of him touching her as they made love. Hard and callused, yes, but but his hands had also been expert and tender. She’d felt clearly the calluses on his fingertips as they circled her where she had been so slick and tender…
Sophie’s face was probably beet red by now.
She worked with people who had special psychic gifts. She’d worked with empaths, who could read a person’s emotions with a touch. Thank God Jon didn’t give any signs of being gifted in that way because she would just sink to the floor and die.
“Here.” She gently pushed the platter with her zucchini omelette over to him, afraid that if she held it out, he’d see that her hands were trembling. “Have some more.”
He’d already eaten half of her 8-egg omelette. His manners were impeccable but clearly he’d been hungry.
“Don’t have to ask me twice.” He smiled at her and cut himself another wedge.
Oh God. It was the first real smile she’d seen from him and…he had a dimple. It appeared, unexpectedly, in his right cheek. A dimple. Oh this was too much. She took in a deep breath and slid the wooden cheeseboard over to him, as well.
“These are all great,” he said, as he cut himself a slice of goat cheese.
“Yes, well, it’s San Francisco,” she said before she could think her words through.“WasSan Francisco,” she corrected. Who knew when the Ferry Building Farmer’s Market would open again. If it could ever open again. To open, it would need the rebuilding of a subculture of farmers and cheese makers and vintners. She gave a crooked smile. “Maybe rat brains cooked over a trash fire will figure large in our future.”
Jon put his hand over hers and squeezed gently. His big hand was so warm, so comforting. She looked down at her hand under his. She had a scientist’s hands. Soft and pale, with only the strength necessary to pipette liquids into vials and pound the keyboard. His hand looked as if it could haul a tank.
“There won’t be any rat brains in Haven. Put that image out of your mind. We’re completely self sufficient in energy and water and food. The refugees will put some strain on us but we have enormous reserves. Mac and Nick and I are used to military planning and—well, we planned for a siege right from the start.”
Oh no. Her breath blocked in her chest. Her hand slid from his and her back hit the chairback with a thud. “Youknewthis was coming?” she whispered. The words would barely come out between numb lips. “You knew and you didn’t stop it?”
He grabbed her hand back. “No, God no. We didn’t plan forthis. For a massive outbreak of a deadly virus, no.”
Her lungs expanded on a loud gasp. For a second there she thought—no. Arka had engineered the virus, not some people on a mountaintop in northern California.
She had to wait a minute to be able to speak, though. “Okay,” she said when she could keep her voice even. “Explain why you have a community that plans for sieges.”
He didn’t answer right away. He simply looked at her, his bright blue eyes burning into hers. He didn’t try to hide his scrutiny, didn’t try to pretty it up. He just stared so intensely it felt as if he were walking around inside her head, picking at her thoughts.Turning them over. What was he waiting for?
Finally, he spoke. “Okay.” He reached out and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. The touch was casual, a friendly gesture, no more. But she shivered.
