shot him a crooked smile, turned, and walked down the hall. “Detective.”
“Very cute.” He hoped his words would stop her, but she kept right on walking. And he couldn’t help it then—he admired her fashion sense a second time. At least, he admired the way her dress moved over her delicious ass as she walked.
“Wait.” He let authority drip into his tone and took a business card from his wallet. He walked toward her as she retreated. “Take this.”
She stopped and turned, looking at his hand. “Why? You short on dates tonight?”
“If I were, would you call?”
She made an exasperated sound, but he could tell she was amused—which was a good sign.
“Take it?”
She did.
“Seriously? Erik Sutherland’s trouble.” He wished people still used the word “evil” without sounding dramatic. He wished he could tell her Sutherland was evil without sounding like a psycho himself.
“What kind of trouble?” She met his eyes. “Does he kidnap women from genetics conferences? Rape, murder, and pillage?” Her light tone quavered, belying something…Fear? An improbable belief that her sarcastic words were true?
“Nothing we can prove.” He couldn’t prove Akantha was dead, for example, not in a court of law.
“So, why’s he trouble?”
“He’s into drugs.”
“Drugs?” Her eyebrows dropped, and she shook her head. She didn’t believe him. What did she know?
“He might want to buy something from you. Equipment. Technology.”
“From me?” She shook her head. “That makes no sense. I don’t know much about drugs or equipment…unless he wants a GPS and a video recorder to cook up some crack.”
“That wouldn’t work so well.” He stared into her eyes a moment, and she didn’t flinch. What was her tie with Sutherland?
She shook her head and stepped back. “You’re worrying about the wrong woman,” she said. “I don’t have anything he wants.”
With her lush curves, he doubted that. “What are you doing at a genetics conference, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I study wild horses in Nevada. They’ve got a surprising breeding system—thus the genetics aspect—and I’m presenting the results tomorrow morning.”
“Interesting.”
She gave him that crooked smile again and held out her hand. “I’m Dr. Ann Fallon.”
Fallon. The name suited her somehow. So did the doctorate. “So you use the technology?” he asked, shaking her warm hand.
“Technology?”
“Genetics technology. Amplifying? Splicing?”
“You know a lot about it for a cop.”
“I listen to NPR,” he said. “You use that stuff?”
“Not really.” She shook her head, her sober bun catching the hallway lighting. What would her hair look like if he took it down? Would it flow down to her ass or stop at her shoulders? “I send out samples to labs—hair, occasionally blood samples. I don’t know much about the technology used in a lab.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
She laughed. “To be more specific, I know more about the labs than any average Joe, but ninety percent of the people at this conference know more than I do. I’d be the last person here someone would stalk for technology.”
He exhaled. “Just keep the number.” He nodded at the business card in her hand. “If Erik Sutherland harasses you, call me.”
“Thank you.” She slid the card into her purse, and he turned back toward the elevator.
“Wait,” she said.
“What?” When he looked at her, that line was back on her forehead.
“You wondered about his affiliation. His name tag said he’s from the Brode Institute.”
3
“Damn.” Ann swiped her keycard to Daniel’s room. “Damn, damn, damn.” Why had she flirted with the detective like that?
The lock mechanism whirred, and residual adrenaline from her run-in with the predator churned through her veins. She could blame her blathering on fear—but, with a start, she realized she’d be lying to herself.
She blinked at the thought. Her kind were always outsiders, and no matter how well she got along with particular humans, her hidden identity cramped her relationships with them—which was one reason she had never told Daniel her true nature.
For some reason, she hadn’t felt that reticence with the detective. In fact, when he’d told her the predator was dangerous, she’d almost asked him to help her—
As she opened the door, her thoughts evaporated.
Light from the moon bathed Daniel in a bone glow, highlighting the planes of his cheeks. His hair was cut to hang at an exact angle, and the cobalt blue of his eyes sparkled with excitement. Modern jazz played from his laptop computer, and he had two bottles of champagne on ice. She knew they’d be delicious. Just like him.
When she walked in, he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck. His arms felt right. It didn’t matter that he was human, not one bit. She wasn’t an outsider in his arms. He’d help her. As soon as she asked, he’d help her.
Daniel lifted her chin and kissed her, hard. “I saw you out the window and wanted to do that out in the crowd.”
“You should’ve.” She tortured him a little bit. She knew damned well he wouldn’t claim her, not in public.
“It’s so good to see you.” He nibbled her ear. “It’s been too long.”
“Daniel, I need to ask you a favor.” She leaned into him, savoring his strength and scent. The citrus flavor of his cologne mixed deliciously with the heat of his skin.
“Hmmm.” He nibbled her ear, his hand on her hip. “I went shopping for my favorite girl.”
She looked. Pink and brown boxes fell over each other on the king-sized bed. Satiny teal ribbons draped over some of the larger bags. Brown bags with expensive-looking embossed stickers provided the icing for the cake. She wouldn’t need new clothes or jewelry for a year—but nothing in this pile would help her raid the vials from the predator.
“I don’t remember how your mouth tastes,” he said, wrapping her in his arms.
“We can fix that.” She turned, and he lowered his head. Gently, he touched his lips to hers. Sweet and gentle. So, so sweet. She shuddered and he did, too.
Skin gliding over skin, she relearned his feel, and he relearned hers. Slowly, he opened her mouth, and she tasted his flavor, as heady as the champagne.
“My God, I missed you so damned much.” Daniel touched her gently, almost reverently. Like a man drinking water after weeks in the desert.
It’s your own damned fault. She kept the thought to herself, though. She didn’t want bitterness to intrude on their isolated islands of bliss. Once Harvard came through with their job offer, they wouldn’t need to hide.
“What did you want to ask me?”
This wasn’t the time. She drew his head back down so she could press her lips against his, so she could caress his cheeks with her hands and remember the rough angles of his face. “I missed you, too,” she said.
He growled softly and slid his hand over the bodice of her dress. Through the silk, he palmed