Page 16 of Shiver

“All right.”

“What’s with the getup?”

She turned to him. “I’m sorry?”

“The schoolmarm imitation?”

Stunned, she could only stare. “Is that a professional question?”

“Doesn’t your hair hurt being yanked back so severely it pulls at the corners of your eyes?”

She walked toward him, refusing to let him intimidate her. She’d made it through the hard part, she’d made it past his captain. He was no longer on the case and was blowing off steam, acting like a petulant boy in the throes of a temper tantrum.

“Do you really need glasses? And what was with the Poor-Little-Miss-Timid routine at the station, when we both know you’re anything but.”

Her fists tightened at her side as she glared at him. How could she have considered helping him, even for a second?

His hardened jaw eased into a cocky smile.

“You have no right to talk to me that way.”

“I have every right. You know more than you’re telling.”

Suddenly he was in front of her, backing her against the wall. The heat from his body scorched her skin right through the stiff cotton fabric of her dress. She gasped for shallow breaths as her heart pounded in her ears. He leaned close. His cologne, rich and spicy, overwhelmed her senses.

“Stop,” she murmured.

His dark eyes filled her vision and clouded her mind.

“What are you hiding?” The rich timbre of his soft tone stroked sensitive nerve endings.

“Nothing.”

“Why are you hiding?” he whispered and gently released her hair clip, spearing his fingers through her hair, lifting it and letting it tumble across her shoulders. His fingertips brushed against the back of her neck, sending a slow shiver cascading down her arms.

She couldn’t breathe. His heat, his touch, his pure animal masculinity made her weak in the knees. Her eyelids fluttered as a yearning deep in the pit of her stomach made her want to scream.

“Leave me alone,” she pleaded, knowing full well she didn’t want him to go. She wanted him to pull her up against him, to soothe the pressure building in her aching breasts, to smother her lips with a kiss so passionate it could rip the fabric of her being.

How could I want him?

“Why was Michelle wearing your locket?” he persisted, his voice a husky whisper, his breath hot on her cheek.

She barely heard him. Her peripheral vision darkened and all she could see, all she could focus on, was his mouth.

What would he taste like?

“Tell me why,” he demanded, shaking her loose from her fervent thoughts.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” she cried.

“I want to know who killed Michelle.”

“I don’t know!”

He pulled away from her and stormed from the room. The bathroom door banged open, and the water turned on. Shaken, she fell into the nearest chair. Why wouldn’t he just go? She couldn’t help him. She wouldn’t. Confusion turned her stomach making her nauseous. On top of all that, she’d never been more attracted to anyone in her entire life.

And he hated her. She could feel it with every breath he took.

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