Mind Games Page 8

  She didn’t dare express her frustration at not being able to spend the night working. It was enough that they trusted her to help at all.

  “We’re done here for the moment, then,” said Nash. “But Jake, will you stay for a minute?”

  “Of course. And Jane, I’ll drop your bag off tomorrow. I have to be in the city anyway.”

  Wow. She hadn’t even considered what she was supposed to wear for the next several days. She shook her head to clear the fog. “Thanks so much.”

  She followed Eric and Lexie out, wondering what Nash had to discuss with Jake. A tiny, paranoid voice in her mind said it was her, that Nash didn’t trust Eric’s opinions and was asking Jake for his, but she shushed it. Paranoia was a form of obsession she’d succumbed to in the past, and she refused to let it suck her away again.

  In the anteroom, Lexie handed over the keys and sent them on their way. Again, concern niggled at the back of her mind. Lexie clearly planned to go back to the conference room once she and Eric were out of the room. But there was nothing Jane could do except wave good night and step into the elevator behind Eric.

  As Eric opened the door to his apartment, Jane fingered her new keys. She wanted to lighten the atmosphere with a joke about how she guessed they were living together now that she had her own key, but everything she tried in her mind sounded either awkward or desperate, so she kept her mouth shut.

  “Are you hungry?” Eric asked. “I have no idea what’s in the fridge, but I need to eat.”

  She was more tired than hungry, but experience told her if she didn’t eat now, she’d wake at three in the morning starving. “I’ll eat whatever. I don’t need much.”

  “Okeydoke.” He glanced at her, then did a visible double take. “Hey. Come on, sit on the couch.” He took her hand and led her, which was when she realized she’d been standing as if planted in the middle of the room. She might even have been swaying. What the hell was the matter with her?

  “It’s been a long day,” he said gently. “Kick off your shoes, put your feet up, and relax. I’ll make dinner and we can watch television. What do you like? Biography? Discovery?”

  “Bad science-fiction movies.” The complete shock on his face surprised a giggle out of her.

  “You mean like Sharktopus?”

  “Exactly. I adore those movies. The science is atrocious, the special effects worse. It’s a perfect storm of the ridiculous.”

  “That’s so awesome. I was worried you’d want to watch serious programming, and I have to admit I’m not a serious guy when it comes to television.” He handed her the remote. “Find the worst thing you can, I’ll cook, and we can watch together.”

  Jane found a movie about supersized, super intelligent sharks and settled in. But before the sharks had eaten even their first person, she was asleep.

  • • •

  ERIC LOOKED UP from the stove to see Jane fast asleep on the sofa. It was a punch to the gut, just like hearing the story of her mother’s suicide had been, just like seeing her name and picture inside the file had been. . . He was beginning to realize Jane Evans wasn’t the kind of woman he’d ever get used to. He hoped like hell they’d get a grasp on the case soon. And not just because he worried about Dani, which he did, far more than he was willing to admit to Jane, but because he wouldn’t have any peace until Jane was safely back in her life. And out of his.

  He flipped the switch to shut off the bacon and went to cut lettuce and tomato for sandwiches. Lexie, bless her heart, had stocked him with steak and potatoes as well as eggs, bacon, cheese, and all kinds of other staples, but even before Jane passed out she hadn’t appeared ready for a heavy meal.

  He made two BLTs for himself and one for Jane, plopped them on a pair of plates, and carried them over to the coffee table. Jane had slid down so that she was lying, legs curled up, head on her hands. He crouched beside her and smoothed the hair back from her face. Immediately, her eyes popped open. She stared at him for a long moment. Then, just as he was considering asking what was on her mind, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Without thinking, he wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her closer, and they both tumbled to the floor.

  Jane’s mouth was hot and hungry, and despite her small, light frame, he could feel every inch of her body on top of his. And, Christ, she felt good. Her arms had gone around his neck during the brief fall, and now one hand tangled in his hair, flexing and stretching like a cat’s paw kneading his head, while the other slid over his shoulder, outlining the contours of his muscles. Her touch raised all the hairs on his arms, along with his blood pressure, and, inevitably, his cock. If he didn’t want to take her to bed, he needed to end things. Now. But her shirt had risen and his left hand rested on warm, bare skin.

  Just another minute. He let his left hand stroke her back, cupping her butt with his right and pressing her against the hard-on threatening the zipper of his jeans.

  Back off. Get some class, asshole. But Jane didn’t seem to mind his rough treatment. In fact, when he loosened his hold, she wiggled closer and her small, hot hands found their way beneath his shirt. She plucked gently at his chest hair, and heat speared through him.

  “Janie, Jesus. Give me a minute.” He tugged at her hands.

  She slid off him and sat cross-legged on the floor. “Why won’t you sleep with me? Really.”

  He closed his eyes. She was so damned direct. It was like a bucket of ice water. He sat up. “Jane—”

  She held up a hand, and just the sight of it heated his blood all over again. “Don’t lie to me. I’ve met Harper now, and he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who gives two hoots and a holler about what you do so long as it doesn’t interfere with the work. I doubt sex with a client even crosses his mind. So if it’s not that, and it’s not lack of desire—”

  “No, it’s definitely not that.”

  “Then what?”

  How was he supposed to explain without insulting her, without sounding patronizing? He rubbed the back of his neck and felt his hair slide over his hand. He never paid it much attention. The hair, the beard—they both helped with undercover work, with blending in most of the places he worked for HSE. But he’d seen the looks in the lab, and that was after he’d cleaned himself up pretty well. Of course, Stella had found him intriguing, but he’d met plenty of women like her in his life.

  “Your friend Stella didn’t say she wanted to date me, did she?”

  Jane dropped her eyes and picked at a nail until he leaned over and covered her hands with his own.

  “It’s okay, baby. You don’t have to answer. For the record, I’m not hurt by her lack of interest in me as a long-term partner.”

  “You’re not?”

  “Nope. But like I told you, I’ve had all the one-nighters I want.”

  “I thought . . .”

  Apparently, she couldn’t be quite so direct when it came to her own emotions. “You thought I was just saying that to put you off. And partially, I was. Because I do want you. But you’re not Stella.” Now came the hard part. “Have you ever, before the other night, wanted a man for nothing more than sex?”

  “I don’t . . . It wasn’t just about sex. Not the way you mean it. It was about feeling good. Physically, mentally, emotionally. It was about connecting to something solid.”

  “But none of that is real. Those desires are a product of the circumstances we’re in. You’d regret it once you had a chance to think it through.”

  Instead of drawing inward, as he expected, she shoved him away and catapulted herself to her feet.

  “Don’t ever do that!”

  “Do what?” He got up and walked toward her, but she backed away, daggers glaring from her hazel eyes. The pallor he’d noticed when they’d first entered the apartment was gone, as was any sign of exhaustion. She was furious and radiant.

  “Don’t ever tell me what I think. I
may not be good at understanding other people’s motives or desires, but I have been monitoring my own mental state since I was ten years old and learned what the words ‘hereditary’ and ‘schizophrenia’ meant. Every idea I come up with gets scrutinized. I watch the faces around me whenever I speak to be sure no one considers what I am saying insane. When I hear a voice, I check to be sure there’s a person nearby. I know exactly what I wanted and why, and yes, some of it had to be adrenaline and fear and comfort. But there’s nothing wrong with any of that. And that wasn’t all of it anyway.”

  Oh, fuck. “I’m so sorry, Janie.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Just don’t assume I don’t know my own mind, or, worse, that you know it better than I do.”

  “I won’t. I promise. But I am . . . concerned, I guess. It’s been years since we were in college.” And even then, they hadn’t been friends, hadn’t even run in the same circles. He’d seen her twice a week for tutoring. But he wasn’t going to remind her of that now. “Today is Friday. We’ve been together since Monday. I asked you before whether you’d ever picked up a man just for sex, so let me rephrase. Have you ever slept with a guy after knowing him a week?”

  “No. But most guys I meet, after a week, I’ve spent maybe two or three hours with them. After a week, it’s possible that we’ve gone on one date. Or maybe not even that; maybe we were assigned to a lab project. After a week, I’ve never talked to any of the men I’ve slept with about anything more deep or meaningful than where we went to school or whether we had worked in any of the same places.”

  Finally, the stiffness left her body and she approached him. “After a week—after a day—I knew everything I needed about you. And what I didn’t know, I wanted to find out.”

  “What do you mean? We didn’t talk about anything of importance.”

  “Knowing someone isn’t about learning what their family is like, or whether they love mashed potatoes with an unhealthy passion, or even what sports team they favor. After five days, I’ve seen you with my colleagues and yours. I’ve run through the night with you. I know you’re careful and methodical—that hasn’t changed since we were kids—and that you have a generous heart.” He would have protested that, but she reached up and cupped his face with one of those fascinating little hands and stole his power of speech. “I know you see the world through a dark lens and don’t realize that you’re part of bringing the light. I know you make me feel safe even when people are chasing us. I know that when you smile, really smile, your eyes turn down at the corners in little half-moons, but that doesn’t happen often. I know your beard and mustache look rough but feel like silk when you kiss me. And I know I want to find out what the rest of you feels like.”

  Chapter 5

  WELL, SHE’D SURPRISED him, that much was clear. She’d surprised herself. Usually, she kept a safe emotional distance from the men she slept with. She couldn’t think of a single one she’d ever mentioned her mother’s suicide to. It would no doubt shock the crap out of Eric to hear it, but she’d never considered love a prerequisite for sex. She’d wanted to try sex, so she had. The experience had been enjoyable, but she had her doubts that it was worth the risk most of the time. Yes, she was always careful to get to know men before she slept with them, but that wasn’t because she was a romantic, for crying out loud; it was simply practical. She didn’t need a stalker, an abuser, or a thief in her life. There were so many different ways a man could hurt a woman that she’d basically given up doing much other than window-shopping.

  And then Eric showed up. And her life went to hell. Yes, he had a point about her perceptions being skewed because of the free flow of chemicals in her body and brain. Adrenaline came in second only to alcohol as an instigator of bad decisions. But Eric wasn’t a bad decision. He wouldn’t hurt her. And sex with him, well, she was pretty sure it would be worth any risk.

  But she wasn’t going to beg. A girl had to have a little dignity.

  “Jesus, Janie,” he said after a long silence. “How the hell am I supposed to respond to that?” He pulled her close, tucked her cheek into the hollow of his shoulder, and nuzzled the top of her head with his chin. His beard felt like the gentlest of brushes tangling with her hair.

  “This works,” she said, sliding her arms around his waist. It wasn’t precisely what she wanted, but she’d take it. Small progress was better than none, and now everything was out in the open. She rested against him for a moment, then pulled away.

  “So, let’s have dinner. I smell bacon.”

  “Yeah. Lexie stocked the place for me when I called.”

  “Wow, I see why you asked her to marry you.” She sat on the couch and took a big bite of the sandwich.

  He grinned the real grin that lightened her heart and took the spot next to her. “Yeah. I ask her every time I stay. I get the sense most of the other guys do, too. And only about half of them are joking.”

  “Oh, my God, this is so good.” She took another bite, chewed, swallowed. “And what about her?”

  “I have no idea. A couple of times I’ve wondered whether she might be dating Nash, but that seems too far-fetched. Maybe she has no interest in dating anyone, because she’s here whenever I am, whenever I call in.”

  “Wow. Dedicated.”

  He cocked his head, looked at her. “No more so than you. Don’t forget, I’ve seen what kind of hours you prefer to keep.”

  “Yeah, well, some might call me obsessive. In fact, there’s no ‘might’ about it. But my career path was set early. How did you end up working for Harp Security? What did you do after college?”

  “Army.”

  “Not baseball?”

  “No. I might have made the minors, but I didn’t have the power or speed for the majors. The Army didn’t pay much, but they provided everything I needed, so it didn’t matter. I could send everything home to take care of my mother and sister.”

  “No father in the picture?” Too late, she realized how stark she sounded, how unfeeling. She’d retreated again, as her psychiatrists had all pointed out, behind a safe wall of facts where emotion couldn’t penetrate. But her rudeness didn’t seem to faze him.

  “He doesn’t contribute. I mean, he can’t. He and my mother divorced when I was a teenager, but he’d been on disability for years, so he couldn’t provide much in the way of financial support even before he left.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “It’s the way of the world. We got along fine without him, but by the time I got out of college Missy was sixteen and thinking about her future. Her grades were good, but not stellar enough for an academic scholarship, and she didn’t have my athletic skills. Mom was never going to be able to pay for college without help.”

  “So you joined the Army.” Of course he did. He was that kind of guy. “Did you like it?”

  He considered that before answering. “Yeah, I did.”

  “So why did you leave?”

  “Because they had a future planned out for me and it wasn’t the one I wanted. I had the physical stamina and the strategic thinking for Special Forces, but what was the point of sending money home to my family if I never got to see them?”

  “Do you spend a lot of time with them?”

  “Enough. Missy’s engaged, God help the guy.” He laughed, and she could hear the fondness in it. What would it have been like to grow up with a sibling? She remembered begging her parents for a sister when she was about eight, though at the time she’d imagined a sister as something akin to a baby doll.

  “And you?” he asked. “I know about your mother—and let me say, in case I didn’t before, how sorry I am to hear what you went through—but what else do you have in the way of family?” His blue eyes were warm and softer than she’d ever seen them, more cerulean sea than their usual crystal.

  “My father is a professor in Virginia.”

  “But you’re not close.”


  She laughed, not without a hint of bitterness. “It shows?”

  “Just a guess.” He reached out and stroked the back of her hand with a single finger. A tiny, delicate thread connecting her to reality, to the messiness of emotion and humanity outside the walls. And, oh, she wanted to reach for it, to grab hold and boost herself over the top, or squeeze through an opening, but then what? No, it was safer to take refuge in fact.

  “My mother required a lot of care. And he loved her desperately, so he did what was necessary. But her death . . . It burned him out. He took a sabbatical that turned into retirement. That lasted two years. By the time he was ready to return to the land of the living, I had my own career to consider. We don’t see much of each other.”

  “That’s a shame.” The single, light touch became a tug, and he pulled her over so she was sitting across his knees, her back resting against the arm of the sofa. He held her against him like a promise of closeness to come. “But that’s enough of the serious stuff for the moment. Let’s watch the sharks.”

  • • •

  THE VIBRATION OF his silenced cell phone alarm against the bedside table woke Eric at seven o’clock. Jane slept half atop him, her right hand beneath his shirt, her right leg tucked between his. He hadn’t intended to share the bed, but when she turned those lion gold eyes of hers on him, he couldn’t refuse. He’d given her one of his shirts and left her in the bathroom while he tossed her clothes into the washer . . . and poured himself a double shot of bourbon.

  But despite the fact she’d been half-asleep during the movie, when he finally allowed himself to slip into bed, she immediately curled up against his side. And he didn’t move away. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her and tucked her even closer. What else could he do? She felt so damned good there.

  And now he’d be content to lie in bed all day watching her sleep, but Lexie was always on time and Jane would be anxious to get to work. No point in waking her sooner than necessary, however. As carefully as possible, he disentangled himself and went to take a shower.