On the Hunt Read online

Page 18

 

  She shut the front door behind him and hurried off, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor.

  Neal sagged against the walland blinked to clear the black spots from his vision. He was shaking like one of those scared little purse dogs, and about as tough as one right now, too.

  Sunset was in just over an hour, and he had that long to get his shit together and fix it before the nasties came out to play.

  One thing was certain: There was not a force on earth that was going to pull him away from Ms. Viviana Rowan's side until he figured out what she'd done to him.

  And how he could make her do it again.

  Viviana filled a glass with water and guzzled it down before she remembered she was supposed to get him the water. Her heart was racing, and her hand was trembling so hard it kept slipping from the faucet handle.

  When he touched her, something happened. And she wasn't entirely sure she liked it. She'd felt like someone had sent an electric current through her skin, making it tingle and buzz from the inside out. A swath of heat swept over her, emanating from his wide, rough palm. His touch had been gentle, but that had somehow allowed her to feel each ridge of his calluses, every minute detail down to the whorls in his fingerprints.

  That simply wasn't right. It had to have been some kind of hallucination. Maybe his skin had been drugged with a contact poison.

  Even as the thought entered her mind, she dismissed it. Deep down she knew what this was.

  She'd felt it before, albeit never so intensely. That buzzing, resonant humming that filled her wasn't new to her. She'd felt it every time she touched one of the precious artifacts she collected.

  The only problem was, Neal Etan was not some centuries-old artifact. He was a living, breathing, incredibly warm man. One who was waiting in her foyer.

  What was she going to do with him? He couldn't stay. He was here to buy one of her artifacts, and although she hadn't before suspected he'd want one from her special collection, she now realized that had to be the case.

  She wouldn't let him have one of those. They were hers—the only things that made her feel connected to this world. Without them, she would be doomed to live with that meaningless, disconnected feeling she'd suffered through most of her life. She couldn't let that happen.

  Not that she could keep him from taking something he wanted. He was far too big and powerful to stop. She was going to have to outsmart him and get him to leave as soon as possible. She could not let her entire life's work be torn apart. Especially not so soon after losing Mother.

  This was going to be her first Christmas alone with only her collection to keep her company.

  Viviana covered her mouth with the back of her hand to stifle a whimper, and swore she could smellhis masculine scent lingering on her skin. It soothed her nerves, which only frightened her more. She'd never had a reaction like this to a man before, and she hoped it was only temporary.

  She scrubbed her hands in the sink to rid them of his scent, and then hurried out with his glass of water. The sooner she got him to leave, the better.

  She rounded the corner and nearly ran right into his broad chest. He grabbed her arms to steady her, and she was thankful the layers of fabric between them muted the effect of his touch.

  Only a trickle of that tingling energy reached her skin, but it was enough to heighten the trembling of her hands, causing water to slosh over the side of the glass onto his boot.

  "I'm sorry," she said, as she tried to step back out of his grasp.

  He let her go, but his dark blue eyes slid over her face, lingering at her mouth.

  He was handsome in a deeply masculine way. His features were big and bold and starkly angular. The wide ridge of his jaw was sharp, shadowed with new beard growth. His neck was thick, as were his thighs and arms beneath the snug leather jacket. There was nothing soft or gentle about this man, making him completely unlike the men she chose to date. Though, why she'd make such a comparison was anyone's guess. He wasn't here to ask her out. He was here to take something precious from her.

  She thrust the glass at him, hoping it would distract him and that steady gaze. Instead, his fingers grazed the back of her hand as he took the water.

  Instantly, another jolt of power shot through her, ricocheting inside her heart until she was panting for air.

  "Who are you?" he asked, his deep voice tinted with suspicion.

  She tried to sound unaffected, but her words came out breathy and panicked. "I know I promised you a meeting, but I forgot about an incredibly important appointment. I'm afraid I'm going to have to cancel. "

  "Like hell. "

  "Excuse me?"

  "You made me a promise, and where I come from, that means something. " He started to set the glass down on a seventeenth-century writing desk, and Viviana lunged to stop him before the damp glass could make contact.

  Her hands closed over his and that resonant energy flooded her system, weakening her knees and making her eyes flutter shut. A deep groan of satisfaction rose between them, and she couldn't tell if she'd made the noise, or he had. Not that she cared. Whatever he was doing to her—whatever poison or magic the man possessed—she was starting to like it.

  That thought jolted her, forcing her to remove her hands from his. She'd sacrifice the writing desk to a water mark if it meant he'd leave before setting his eyes on any of her treasured artifacts.

  As she broke contact, he sucked in a pained breath and doubled over. The glass slipped from his hand, shattering against the floor.

  "Sorry," he grated out.

  She didn't care about the glass. She only wished she could say the same for the man. But she did care. She hated seeing any living thing in pain, and that included big, strapping men who were here to ruin the calm of her peaceful existence.

  "Sit down before you fall down," she ordered as she guided him to a chair in her living room.

  She was careful not to touch his bare skin, choosing instead to use the sleeve of his jacket to tug him in the right direction. He landed on her settee with a thud, making the delicate wood creak in protest of his weight.

  One of his thick arms was wrapped around his middle. His head hung down, propped against his hand as if it weighed too much to support. On that hand he wore a ring that pulsed and swirled in a mesmerizing combination of colors that reminded her of aged parchment and ancient wood.

  Viviana stared, wondering where he'd found such an interesting item. It was definitely old. She could feel the vibration of years emanating from it, along with something else—something faint and elusive.

  She reached out to touch the tip of her finger to it, but Mr. Etan saw the movement and leaned smoothly away, out of her reach. "How about we both keep our hands to ourselves for a while so we can talk about the gadget, okay? I'm not sure how much more of a beating I can take right now. "

  She wasn't sure which part of that confused her more—the part about a gadget or the part about him hurting. Fortunately, she had manners to fall back on in such an occasion and gave him a prim nod. "Certainly. I'm not usually so forward. But as I said, I have an appointment, so we'll need to reschedule. "

  He gave her a disbelieving look. "Listen, lady, I've driven for hours to get here. I made a promise to bring this gadget home and that's exactly what I'm going to do. "

  "Gadget?"

  He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, which he smoothed flat against his thigh before he handed it to her.

  Viviana took the paper, being careful not to make any further contact with his skin. She sat down across from him, putting some much-needed distance between them.

  On the page was a printed image from her Web site of one of the artifacts from her special collection. It was a carved wooden box, and inside, snuggled into perfectly shaped recesses, were two engraved metal disks. The markings on both the box and the disks were elaborate and painstaking
in their detail, covered with trees, leaves, and vines. She'd found this item in the attic of a three-hundred-year-old home that she'd bought with the plans to restore it. And while she had no idea as to the artifact's purpose, it belonged in her collection, and she wasn't going to part with it.

  "I'm sorry," she said, giving him back the paper. "It's not for sale. "

  "So you do have it?"

  "Yes. "

  "Show me. "

  The demand in his tone made her spine straighten in indignation. "Even if it was here, which it isn't, I wouldn't show it to you. Not if you're going to be rude and demanding. "

  The man rose to his feet, looming over her. At five-ten, she wasn't used to it, so she stood, trying to put them on a more even footing. Even with her in heels, he was still a few inches taller. The hard set of his jaw and the way his nostrils flared made him even more imposing.

  "Rude? I'm sorry if I insulted your delicate feelings, but I don't have time to be all nicey-nice right now. A friend of mine is dying and that gadget may be the only thing that can save him. "

  Viviana scoffed. "Nice try, but I'm not an idiot. Those disks don't hold medicine, and if they did, I'm sure it would be all dried up by now. "

  He frowned at her. "You have no idea what you've got or how important it is. I'll pay you whatever you want, but I need that device now. Tonight. "

  "Impossible. It's not here and it's not for sale. "

  "Fine. I'll rent it, then. I'll pay you whatever you ask to use it, just for a few days. "

  "Use it? They're paperweights. Beautiful, certainly, but nothing more. " Even as she said it, she knew it was a lie. There was something special about the artifacts she collected. She could feel it.

  Perhaps Mr. Etan knew the answer to that mystery. The question was, did she dare spend enough time with him to find out?

  "Just tell me where the gadget is. Please. " That last bit sounded like it cost him more than a little effort. Clearly, he wasn't used to asking for things.

  Poor baby. He was just going to have to suffer.

  "No," she said. "It's time for you to go. "