Racing Against the Clock. Lori WildeЧитать онлайн книгу.
try to touch her again, but he didn’t. Discombobulated, she glanced away.
“Let’s walk,” she said and started down the beach.
The chilly night wind whipped the thin scrubs around her legs, sliced through her car coat and snatched at her curls. She took a deep breath. It was good to feel cold. She savored being alive with a handsome man by her side. A man she liked more than she had any right to.
These feelings were deadly. She had to be on her way as soon as she got a good’s night sleep. For both their sakes. Because she could tell by the expression on his face he was feeling the same powerful push-pull of attraction that was grabbing at her chest.
“I haven’t been to the beach house since summer. It’s probably pretty musty inside. Salt water takes its toll.”
Hannah nodded. Silence elongated between them, increasing their awkwardness with each other.
“Are you married?” she asked at last.
“No. Are you?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to say no, then she remembered she was suppose to have lost her memory. “I don’t think so,” she hedged. “I don’t remember.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m sure your amnesia is temporary. It’s not uncommon in the aftermath of an accident. Spontaneous memory usually returns in a few hours to a few days.”
Fresh guilt swept over her. The more she lied to him, the worse she felt.
“I was married once,” he said quietly. “A long time ago.”
The water lapped at their feet. The moon shone down. She could almost palpate his uneasiness.
“You never remarried?” She angled a sideways glance at him. His face was cast in shadows, his jaw ridged.
He shook his head. “No.”
“Divorced?” she asked, startled to find her throat thick with an unnamed emotion.
“Widowed.”
Then he stopped, turned his back on her and stared out to sea, letting Hannah know the subject was closed. He had loved his wife a great deal, she realized. So much that he still found it hard to talk about her. The knowledge stirred a longing deep within her. Would anyone ever love her with such intensity? Better question, would she even live to see the end of the week?
Not for the first time, she wondered why Tyler had offered her sanctuary. She shivered and hugged herself. If she hadn’t been desperate she would never have accepted his offer.
“You’re cold.”
He slipped off his heavy jacket and draped it gently around her shoulders. He held himself stiffly, making sure he didn’t touch her. He was as discombobulated by their attraction and apparently did not welcome it anymore than she did. That was good. If they both kept their distance everything would be all right.
The jacket smelled of him. Of hamburgers and hospitals, soap and antiseptic. She couldn’t help herself. She found the scent very comforting.
“Come,” he said. “Let’s go to the house.”
She stumbled in the sand, almost lost her balance. He reached out to take her hand, but she hung back.
“Does touching me make you uncomfortable?”
“Yes.”
“I just don’t want you to fall, but if you’re uncomfortable, I understand.” He dropped his hand and seemed relieved she didn’t need him.
“I’m fine.” But then she stumbled again, belying her statement.
He reached out again. “Come on. Take my hand.”
Tentatively, she reached out and slid her hand into his.
Holding his hand was awkward at first. She couldn’t deny it. It was as if she didn’t belong in this place and had no business touching this man as they walked along in silence under the crescent moon.
His hand was smooth and firm. He held her loosely so she could easily break free if she chose. Hannah liked that. He was offering his support with no expectations. He simply wanted to keep her from falling.
Palm trees swayed. Leaves rustled. The water whispered as it rolled forward, and then slithered back. Near their feet sea creatures scuttled for safety across the sand.
The bond between them grew. Her hand tingled with a warm glow that increased the longer Tyler held on. Her heart filled with heated syrup. Her mind spun. She felt as if she were falling from a high precipice into a bottomless abyss.
Hannah had never experienced anything to equal the sensation. Her pulse quickened. What did it mean? So many strange things had happened to her over the last few hours that she couldn’t unravel the implications.
It means nothing. It couldn’t mean anything. She could not act on this attraction. She couldn’t trust it. Even if she wasn’t on the run. Even if her life wasn’t in danger. She simply didn’t know how to please a man. She’d spent her life in a lab. She had no idea how to flirt or wear makeup. Had not a clue what turned men on. And most of all, she had no idea how to open her heart to love. And a man as special as Tyler deserved a feminine woman who could give him her all. Especially after he’d been so scarred by life.
So what was she supposed to do about this vibrant electric current running between them?
“Do you feel it?” Tyler asked, his voice a low rumble invading her ears.
“Yes,” she murmured.
“My hand’s melting into yours.”
“Flowing,” she said, articulating the word that leapt to her head.
“It’s so hot. As if you have a fever.”
“I don’t.”
“What does it mean?” Tyler asked, stopping just short of the house and drawing her into the moonlight. His eyes searched her face. “Tell me, Jane, what’s going on?”
Had he guessed that she was lying about her amnesia?
“I can’t. Not now. Not yet.”
“But soon?”
She shook her head. “It’s safer if you don’t know.”
He raised their joined hands above their heads. “We’re connected, you and I, whether we like it or not.”
Fear vaulted through Hannah. What he said was true. She felt it. He felt it. And the feeling was almost as terrifying as the knowledge that Daycon and a renegade CIA agent were planning on using her miracle drug as a deadly weapon in a foreign country.
“No,” she denied.
She could not be united with this man. She was in this alone. Only Marcus Halpren could help her. Only her ex-partner would understand what was at stake. Tyler was an innocent bystander, sucked by his big heart into something he could not comprehend. She would not allow him to wade any deeper.
With a twist, she jerked her hand from his. It felt as if her arm had wrenched from its socket.
Panic descended upon her. An anxiety so sharp in its intensity she was left breathless. Her chest refused to expand to full capacity. She yanked in small swallows of air and sweat beaded her brow.
“Jane!” he cried.
She dropped to her knees, sand filling her penny loafers. Hannah clasped her hand over her chest and tried to speak, to tell him she was all right, but the words would not come. How could she say she was fine when she obviously was not?
A roaring noise sounded in her ears. Her vision blurred and her stomach burned.
What was happening?
A reaction to Virusall?
Hannah knew the drug was volatile,