“Some of them were definitely trying.” And I had the scar on my head to prove it. “But I think I’m still alive because I’m the only female of breeding age they have. Mom’s too old, and Carli’s too young.”
He didn’t say anything, just studied me for a minute before flicking his gaze to the black car. “Looks like those men are getting antsy.”
Trepidation ran down my spine, but I resisted the temptation to turn around. It would only let them know I knew about them, and that could prove dangerous. “Meaning they’re likely to come in here?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” His gaze met mine. Distant. Fiery. The dragon was getting ready to fight. “You know these people, not me.”
“I might know them, but that doesn’t mean I can predict everything they might do.” I picked up my coffee again to warm suddenly cold fingers. “All I know is that they prefer not to have witnesses, so we may be safe in here for a while. But the threat of witnesses won’t stop them for long.”
He didn’t say anything, just picked up his coffee and stared out the window for several minutes. Tension crackled through the air—evidence that he was not as calm as he appeared.
“Okay, one of them is on the phone,” he said, as he put his coffee down. His blue gaze came to mine, sharp with excitement. “I’ll head to the bathroom now. If you see any of them walking past the gas pumps, get up and head to the counter to pay our bill, then get into the bathroom. I’ll get you out from there.” He hesitated, and a grin twitched his lips. “Feel free to use some of the cash you stole to pay the bill, too.”
I raised my eyebrow. “I never said I stole the cash. I only admitted to stealing back the ring. Maybe you’re a thief who loses track of what he has in his pocket.”
“Sweetheart, I never lose track of anything that’s mine.” He rose, drawing my gaze up the long, lean length of him. “Remember that, if you intend on stealing anything more important than cash or credit cards.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And what else have you got that I’d be interested in?”
He grinned. “I’m sure we could think of something.”
“I’m sure you could,” I said, voice dry. Just as I was sure I’d love it. Whatever “it” was.
He left the booth. I sipped my coffee and watched his retreat. Egan and I had never shared easy banter like that. Had never teased or touched or done any of those fun things most lovers do. He’d been too uncomfortable with the whole situation, too aware of the white coats and the cameras. Thank God they’d never installed microphones, otherwise he’d have never come near me. As it was, we’d only ever made love at night, with the lights off, when he had the illusion of some degree of privacy.
It wasn’t exactly the most normal introduction to sex and sensuality a girl could have had.
The old woman wandered over with the coffeepot. “Want a top-up, love?”
“Thanks.” I held out my cup, and pushed Trae’s forward. He might not get to drink it, because we’d probably have to run once he deflated the tires, but it was better to keep up appearances for our watchers.
“You two down here for a vacation?” the woman asked, as she poured coffee into Trae’s cup.
“Just passing through.” I shrugged. “Wish we could stay longer, though. It’s pretty.”
“Well, not so much around these parts. It’s pretty old and dumpy here.”
I smiled, remembering my distaste as we’d approached the old building. And yet, once inside, it had proved to be warm, homey, and friendly. Just went to show, the old saying about the book and its cover was correct.
“But the food is as good as any of those uptown places.”
She beamed. “Can I get you anything else?”
A life. Or maybe a leash for my hormones. I smiled and shook my head. “Just the bill. We’ll have to go once my partner gets out of the bathroom.”
“If he wanted to sneak out to let the air out of the tires of that car, he could have just aske
d to slip out the back. Has to be uncomfortable, a man his size squeezing through the bathroom window.”
I just about choked on my coffee. I coughed as the hot liquid slid down the wrong way, but somehow managed to say, “What?”
There was a mischievous twinkle in the old girl’s eyes. “Frank saw him sneaking around. Pretty good, he reckons, and Frank would know. He had a bit of a way-ward past, when we were kids.” She paused. “So is it husband trouble, or the law?”
“Husband,” I said, probably much too quickly. Not that she was likely to believe the truth, anyway. “We’ve been separated for over a year, but he just won’t accept it. Has me followed everywhere.”
She nodded. “Some men are like that. What you need to do is give him a little of his own medicine.”
“Who can be bothered?”