He searched her eyes and she forced herself not to fidget at the heat that gathered between her legs. An answering flame glinted in his green eyes a second before he pivoted away fast and walked to the flat-screen television mounted on the wall over a hutch. He picked up the remote control from the cabinet and flipped through channels until settling on an old John Wayne war movie.
He wanted to watch TV? Now? Really? She wanted to pull her hair and shout in frustration.
Turning back to her, he tossed the remote on the coffee table and crouched in front of her, one hand on the armrest, so close without touching her. “Maybe we should talk about what happened earlier, on the roadside.”
Ah, now she understood about the television. He was making it easier for them to talk. Giving at least a sense of privacy, in case there were listening devices.
Although she wasn’t so sure she particularly wanted to discuss the kiss. Like that was going to make her feel better? Let’s dissect the kiss. Talk about the kiss. Think about the kiss until she died from frustration. That would end all their troubles.
Her chin tipped. “Why would that be? Unless it was important. Which it wasn’t. It was…”
“Adrenaline.”
“Of course.” Which pissed her off, because she could have sworn the kiss meant more than that. Who cared if someone was listening? “Do you go around kissing women every time you get revved up from a mission? Because now that I think about it, last time we were together, adrenaline got pumping and you kissed me, so you’re right, it must mean nothing.”
He grinned. Actually grinned, damn it, as he shifted onto the sofa to sit close beside her, his leg pressed against hers. “And you don’t get a rush after a mission?”
Her mouth went dry. “This isn’t funny.”
His smile faded. “You’re right. I just need to know one thing. Are you having a relationship with Brandon Harris?”
Had that been what Liam’s kiss was about? Some he-man, jealous need to stake his claim on her? Not very enlightened, but God, it made her want to grab a fistful of his shirt and haul him in to put her stamp on him. “Brandon’s not my type.”
“And what would be your type?” He didn’t angle closer, but he might as well as have. His presence reached out to her all the same.
Distance would be nice. Now. She reached for her old safety net for putting space between herself and disquieting feelings cropping up at a totally inappropriate time.
So she threw a dead body between them. Or at least the memory of one.
“Are you asking about my high school boyfriend?” She’d told Liam about Caden back in the Bahamas in hopes of scaring him off, and she was doing the same now. Liam had a way of getting too close, making her want to risk too much.
“Rachel, if I had wanted to know that I would have asked. We were talking about the kiss in the car. Whether it was important or adrenaline. Seems a logical conversational leap to me. Unless you have something else we can do to pass the time, other than talk.”
Her skin flamed to life, her lips ached… and her mind shouted there were guards outside the door. “Are you serious?”
He tugged a strand of her hair. “You brought up the guy in your past for a reason, so you must have something you need to say.”
She curled her feet up under her, the Scotchgarded fabric itchy against her skin. “I met him while he was volunteering at the animal shelter where my mom worked.”
“Sounds like an altruistic sort of fella.” He slid his arm around her shoulder, bringing her closer to him.
So they could talk softer and more freely? Maybe. And that provided all the excuse she needed to do exactly what she wanted.
She laid her head on Liam’s shoulder, the past wrapping around her with a squeeze to her heart that made her wonder if she’d brought this up as much to give herself distance as to push away Liam. Except here he was, even closer to her than before.
“Caden—that was his name—was doing community service to work off some major speeding tickets.”
“Not what I expected to hear about him.” His voice heated the top of her head.
“You didn’t expect me to go for the bad-boy type?”
His knuckles stroked along her arm. “I’m not sure what to say here without pissing you off.”
“How about be honest.”
The air hung heavy between them as he seemed to mull over the best way to dole out that honesty. There was only the sound of bullfrogs and a low mumble beyond the front door as their guards conversed. Disco finished his sniffing ritual and settled on the floor in front of the sofa with a doggy huff.
“Let’s just say that every time you mentioned him in the past, there was such… hell, I don’t know… adoration in your voice, I assumed he was a saint.”