chance of escape. Obviously, I wasn’t leaving until he got what he wanted.
Mimicking his pose, I drawled, “My cell doesn’t get reception out here.” Not
entirely true, but his attitude left me obstinate.
“You have a land line.” He nodded to the blinking answering machine sitting
on the counter.
My priority was Kelsey, not whatever crap was dodging Kayden and Tag, but
my fickle curiosity perked up. “Why would you think I’d want to talk to Tag any
more than I want to talk to you?”
His wince was hastily veiled, but not before I caught it. That tiny tell ignited
a spurt of dark satisfaction from the less charitable part of me that was buried deep. He didn’t answer.
Not a shocker. Did he really think the silent male thing worked? Studying his rigid position, icy fingers of suspicion slid along my spine. Why was he here now? Just when Kelsey had felt someone watching her, asking questions about me?
Pushing away from the counter’s edge, I closed the distance between us.
With each step I took, his jaw tightened. When only a few inches remained, I stopped.
It took concentrated effort to set aside my resentment and mistrust, but when
I succeeded, I compared the staticky image from my trip into the past against the
very real, flesh and blood male in front of me. Kayden stood a couple of inches
taller than whoever attacked Kelsey, which put him a good six inches above me.
But more telling, his shoulders were broader. It took a great deal of fortitude to
study his chiseled face and not be intimidated. He watched me, his gaze carrying
the weight of other, shared memories, untouched by hurt and pain. It didn’t matter, couldn’t matter. Holding out my hands palms up, I waited.
“What?” There was a husky note to his voice.
“Let me see your wrists.”
Never looking away, he unfolded his arms and held his hands above my
palms, so close the heat from his skin curled against mine. Ignoring my
clamoring emotions, I checked his wrists once more. Besides a very masculine,
heavy watch and old scars, they remained unmarred. I dropped my hands and met his stare head on, refusing to blink first.
He made me nervous on a level it was unsafe to acknowledge. I needed to
get some space between us, but that would require touching him. Again.
Probably not a good idea.
Since I didn’t want to touch him—much—I poked a finger against his chest,
ignoring the unexpected zap of awareness. “I don’t know how you found me or
why, but right now I have other, more important things to do. So, why don’t—”
My tirade was interrupted by a phone ringing. Not my cell, but the landline. I
shot a look at the phone sitting on the counter to our left, and then narrowed my
gaze at Kayden.
He quirked an eyebrow. The phone rang again.
“You going to answer it?” he drawled.
Stepping back, I plucked the receiver off the cradle. “Hello?”
“Cyn?”
What do you know, it was Thomas Anderson Gunderson, AKA Tag. I stared at
