Page 37 of Edge of Darkness (Night Prowler 4)
She glanced at him and asked, “Do you ever drive yourself anywhere?”
Looking out the window, he smiled. He turned to gaze at her and said, “Well, I wouldn’t want to break the law.”
At her quizzical look, he explained, “I don’t have a driver’s license.”
She immediately thought the worst. Had it been taken away? Had he been involved in accidents? Car chases? Was he a bank robber? A criminal on the run? A master jewel thief?
It would explain a lot.
“What kind of a person doesn’t have a driver’s license?”
He sent her a lazy smile. “The same kind of person that doesn’t own a television.”
“Okay. Touché. But they’re still not the same thing.”
His smile slightly faded. “Where I grew up, there weren’t any cars. I just never learned to drive.”
This intrigued her. She turned her body in the seat and faced him. “No cars? In England? Were you Amish or something?”
He chuckled. “Amish? That’s where you go first, really?”
“You have to admit it’s weird.”
Now he studied her, all humor gone. “There are a great many things about my upbringing that I’m sure you would consider weird.”
She waited for more, but when it didn’t come, cocked an eyebrow at him. “You can’t just dangle that out there and not follow up, that’s totally bogus.”
“Bogus?” he repeated slowly, the laughter coming back into his eyes.
“Yes. Bogus. Wack. Lame. Wrong to the most high.”
He shook his head. “I had no idea your vocabulary was so extensive.”
Ember tapped her temple. “I read a lot, big boy. My vocabulary is multifarious.”
Christian leaned forward so their faces were very close and murmured, “Did you just call me big boy?”
Ember swallowed, her stomach suddenly alight with the dreaded butterflies that refused to die, which had multiplied a thousandfold since the day they met, breeding like frenzied rabbits with every touch, with every glance and shared smile. She was enveloped in his scent again, masculine and exotic, a foreign spice of night and smoke and secrets. The way he was looking at her made her flush straight down to her toes.
“Um. Yes?”
He studied her for a moment in silence, his gaze roving over her hot face, her mouth, her eyes. Finally he lifted a hand and brushed his knuckles over her face with the faintest pressure, following the curve of her cheek down to her jaw. He whispered, “I love this.”
Like an elevator plummeting from snapped cables, Ember’s stomach hit the floor. She managed to gather her wits enough to respond with a stuttered, “W-what?”
“When you blush for me. It’s the best compliment you could give me.”
Ember managed a choked, “It’s embarrassing.”
He spread his hand over her cheek, cupped her face in his palm. “It’s beautiful.”
His eyes had gone dark, and the crackle was there between them again, electrifying the air. Ember said, very faintly, “I think you need to get your eyes checked. Nothing about me is beautiful.”
That brought a look to his face she would have described as anger, had it not been for the softness in his eyes. He said with quiet vehemence, “Everything is.”
Because she couldn’t bear that look, that softness and intensity and naked desire, she closed her eyes. She pressed her lips together and withdrew from his hand, settling herself back into her seat, a much safer distance. “That’s very flattering, especially coming from you—”
“The distractingly pretty idiot?” he teased softly, and reached out for her left hand.
