Deadly Contact. Lara LacombeЧитать онлайн книгу.
gone back over their interactions, looking for any sign that she’d been right to leave, but in the end, she could only conclude that he was a genuinely kind and decent man.
Yes, she had been scared of what their night together had meant, but she had ruined things by running away. She had treated him badly, and she carried the regret with her on a daily basis.
Lost in her thoughts, she moved on autopilot as she placed the glass slides in their cardboard folder, paying little attention to the order in which they were stowed. After the last slide went in, she snapped the folder shut and grabbed her notebook.
She stepped into the hall, eager to get everything put away and to duck out before someone asked her a question. With Dr. Collins, the lab head, on vacation for the past couple weeks, Kelly was the de facto group leader. Normally she didn’t mind helping out the other lab techs and graduate students, but today she was tired and wanted nothing more than to be left alone. She moved quickly and kept her head down as she walked, trying hard to look unapproachable as she entered the main lab.
She noticed the shoes first. A pair of brown men’s dress loafers, to be exact, right in the middle of the aisle. Shoes that nice were never found in a research lab, and she frowned as she raised her gaze up suit-clad legs, a trim waist and broad shoulders. Her eyes finally landed on a face she never thought she’d see again.
Her body flushed hot then cold as she stared at James in openmouthed shock. She took a half step forward, wanting to touch him, to hug him, but his stern expression stopped her. With his mouth pressed into a thin line and his arms crossed over his chest, he looked rather forbidding and not at all happy to see her.
They stared at each other for a few seconds until she shook herself free of the moment. She had to take control of the situation. Faking a confidence she didn’t feel, she asked “Can I help you?” in what she hoped was a professional tone. What the hell was he doing here? Why, after all these months, had he come to find her?
He arched a brow, disbelief plain on his face. “That’s all you have to say to me? ‘Can I help you?’ Are you kidding me?”
She tried to keep her voice aloof, wanting to seem unaffected by his presence. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He took a step toward her and she reflexively stepped back, her shoulder bumping into the door frame.
Dammit, she thought. Act normal.
It had been over a year since she’d been hit, but whenever she felt anxious or upset, her nerves got the better of her.
While her mind knew that he wouldn’t hurt her, her body was taking no chances. He was a powerful presence when he was angry, his eyes bright and his body tense as he stood in front of her, staring at her with his angular features arranged into a fierce scowl. Her heart thumped in her chest and nausea gripped her stomach in a sickening fist. He won’t hit me. She wiped a slick palm down her thigh. He’s not Gary.
After what seemed like ages, James’s expression changed. His eyes grew considering as he stared down at her, and she had the sneaking suspicion he knew. Not all the details of her past, but enough to suspect something. He took a step back to give her more room, and she slowly exhaled, trying not to look too relieved at the return of some personal space.
He held her eyes for a moment, then looked down with a sigh, running his hand through his hair. He turned away, and she caught a whiff of his cologne. Oh, God, he still smells the same....
“So, why are you here?”
He snorted and shook his head. “Just business, is that it, Kelly?” For a split second, he dropped his guard and she watched as confusion, hurt and anger danced across his face. The weight of guilt settled on her shoulders and she swallowed hard, hating herself in this moment for having hurt him.
“I—I thought after what happened...” she stammered. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me again.”
“You know, I could have forgiven you for running away,” he said slowly. “But when you didn’t return my calls...” He shook his head and looked down. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”
Pushing down her regret, she repeated her earlier question. “What are you doing here?”
The question roused him from his introspection. He drew himself up, his professional mask back in place. “I’m working a case, and I need your help.”
He needed her? What could she possibly do to help him? She didn’t know anything about the law. Although, given the way things had ended between them, he probably wouldn’t have turned up here unless it was absolutely necessary. “What do you need from me?”
“I need you to come to the office with me, and we’ll talk there.”
“But...I have plans,” she sputtered, thinking longingly of the bubble bath and wine. After this shock, she’d need to add some chocolate, too. It was only fair.
“Going out for a drink?”
Ouch. She supposed she deserved that, but it still stung. “No,” she said, struggling to keep the hurt out of her voice.
A quick flash of what may have been guilt passed over his face, but before he could say anything, she held up her hand. “Just let me get my bag.” At his nod, she turned and walked over to her alcove of an office, taking a moment to shut down her computer. She stood with her back to him while the machine powered down, trying to arrange her features into a neutral expression. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her confusion and the attraction she still felt for him. First things first—figure out why the FBI wanted to talk to her, then deal with the shreds of her relationship with James.
She put the laptop in her desk drawer and grabbed her bag. “Let’s go,” she said, walking over to stand next to him.
They moved down the corridors in awkward silence, and he led her to a black sedan parked by the front door.
“How did you get this spot?” she asked, wanting to say something, anything, to break the tension. “I’m surprised security didn’t tow your car.”
“Being an FBI agent has its privileges,” he commented, waiting for her to slide into the passenger seat, then shutting the door firmly. He was careful not to touch her, and given the set of his jaw, she supposed he was still angry, but whether at her or the situation, she didn’t yet know. Probably a combination of both.
She was hyperaware of him as he drove, all her senses tuned in to the man sitting next to her. She thought back to the last time they had been in a car together, how she’d taken his hand in hers and stroked his palm. She doubted he would welcome such a gesture now.
“So why do you want to talk to me?” she said, hoping she could get him to open up a little.
He took the next exit and slowed as they approached a red light. “It’s nothing to worry about,” he replied, glancing over at her after the car stopped. “Just standard procedure.”
“Standard procedure for what?” she pressed.
“We’ll be there soon,” he replied, accelerating away from the intersection. “All your questions will be answered shortly.”
She sat back in the seat, dissatisfied with his response. Her stomach felt as if it were being squeezed in a vice, and she tasted the coffee she’d had at lunch. Why would the FBI want to talk to her? She wiped damp palms on her pants as she considered what James had told her, which wasn’t much. Standard procedure was vague and gave her no clue as to what they wanted with her. Of course, given the way their reunion had gone, he probably wasn’t interested in easing her mind.
She stared out the window at the downtown buildings, absently watching the people walking past. She hadn’t done anything wrong, so it was unlikely the FBI was investigating her. As far as she knew, she didn’t know any criminals, but who could really say these days? She watched enough late-night TV to know that people weren’t always who they seemed to be. Wouldn’t there be some sign of trouble, though? Her thoughts