At least one of which you dealt with.
"Actually both were mine. " Her eyes held his. "Did that bother you? Seeing me. . . go to work like that?"
Her tone suggested she assumed it did and that she didn't blame him for feeling yucked-out. Except she was wrong.
Beating back the pain he was in, John shook his head and signed with floppy hands. It's an incredible power you have. If I looked shocked. . . it's because I'd never seen one of your kind in action before.
Her face tightened ever so slightly and she glanced out the window.
Tapping her on her arm, he signed, That was a compliment.
"Yeah, sorry. . . just the 'your kind' always throws me. I'm half-and- half, therefore I'm neither. I have no kind. " She batted away her words with her hand. "Whatever. While you were passed out, V hacked into the Caldwell PD database with his phone. The police didn't find any IDs at the scene either, so we have nothing to go on except for that addy from the Civic's license plate. I'll bet that. . . "
As she continued talking, he let her words wash over him.
He knew all about that "no kind" thing.
Just one more way they were compatible.
Closing his eyes, he sent up a prayer to anyone who was listening, asking please, for God's sake, stop sending him signals that they were right for each other. He'd read that book, seen the movie, bought the sound track, the DVD, the T-shirt, the mug, the bobble- head, and the insider's guide. He knew every reason they could have been lock and key.
But just as he was aware of all that aligned them, he was even clearer on how they were damned to be ever apart.
"Are you all right?"
Xhex's voice was soft and closer, and when he cracked his lids, she was practically in his lap. His eyes traced her face and her coiled, leather- bound body.
Pain and a sense that time was running out for them made him toss out his filter and say what was truly on his mind.
I want to be in you when we get back to the mansion, he signed. As soon as I get a bandage on this fucking leg of mine, I want in you.
The flare of her scent in his nostrils told him she was so on board with that plan.
So at least one thing, aside from his cock, was looking up.
Chapter Fifty-seven
Up on the second floor of Eliahu Rathboone's plantation house, Gregg Winn had to open the door to his and Holly's room with two fingers and a prayer that he didn't dump hot coffee down his leg. He'd filled the pair of mugs in his hands with brew he'd made himself at the "guest" pot on the sideboard in the dining room.
So God only knew what it tasted like.
"You need help?" Holly said as she looked up from the laptop.
"Nope. " He kicked the door shut and headed for the bed. "I got it. "
"You are so thoughtful. "
"Wait till you try it. . . I had to jerry-rig yours," he said, giving the pale one to her. "They didn't have whole milk, which was what you had yesterday at breakfast. So I went to the kitchen and took half-and-half and some skim, mixed them together, and tried to get the color right. " He nodded to the computer's screen. "What do you think of those scans?"
Holly stared down into the mug as she held it over the Dell's keyboard. She was stretched out on the bed, propped up against the headboard, analyzing the data he'd become obsessed with. . . looking sexy and smart.
And as if she didn't trust what he'd given her.
"Listen," he said, "just try the coffee--if it sucks, I'll wake up that proper butler. "
"Oh, it's not that. " She ducked her blond head and he heard her sip. The "ahhh" that followed was more than he could have hoped for. "Perfect. "
Going around the edge of the bed, he settled in beside her on top of the duvet. As he took a drink from his own mug, he decided if his career in TV went tits-up, he might have a future at a Starbucks counter. "So. . . come on, tell me what you think of the footage. "