Susan Crosby – Rules of Attraction (страница 2)

On the other hand, there was something to be said for animal magnetism. As Ms. Winston maintained eye contact, his pulse sped up. Which was a normal reaction to the risk, he decided, of her being able to spot him following her after this. But it had been a while since his hormones had mutinied on their own like that.

A few more minutes passed. She looked away and back several times. He didn’t pretend disinterest, deciding instead that he could take an entirely different approach to his surveillance, a much more personal one. It would require playing a role, acting as if he didn’t know her boyfriend had been convicted of embezzlement and now occupied a cell in a federal prison—and that she was thought to be his accomplice.

Quinn had to be especially careful, however. Agreeing to take on the case for the D.A.’s office made him a police agent, which meant he needed to stay within the boundaries and scope of the law.

Ms. Winston took a few steps toward Quinn then hesitated. He held her gaze. She came closer. Close enough that he saw her eyes. Blue. Bright blue, not brown.

His gut clenched. Blood rushed through him, a feeling as close to panic as anything he could remember.

This wasn’t Jennifer Winston but her half sister, Claire. First-grade teacher, blue-eyed, brunette-until-today Claire—the good sister.

Curses whipped through his mind. Jennifer was no longer being watched. She could skip town and no one would find her, especially if she had the five million dollars her boyfriend stole.

“Take the needle out,” Quinn ordered the nurse. The good sister stopped. She backed up as the nurse spoke.

“Just a minute more—”

“Now. Or I’ll do it myself.” He reached for it.

“I’ll do it!” The nurse shoved his hand away, then slid out the needle and pressed a folded gauze pad to the site.

He stuck his thumb on the gauze and swung his legs over the side of the lounge. He had to see if Jennifer Winston had left town, if her sister was a decoy. What else could she be?

“You’ll need to sit over at that table and have some juice and cookies,” the nurse said. “Claire will go with you.”

He stood. Claire could go to—

The room tilted as unearthly quiet bombarded it.

“Hey! I have to bandage that!” The voice seemed to come through a tunnel.

He took a step. Darkness teased his vision, first at the edges, then closing in until only pinpoints of light remained. Bright. Disorienting. Nauseating. Take a deep breath. Put your head down.

Down….

“It’s always the big ones,” Lorna said, coming up beside Claire after the fiercely attractive man collapsed to the floor, the blow softened by the nurse’s hold on him, slowing his descent. “I’ll get his keys,” Lorna added. “I have a feeling he’s going to fight us about staying here for a while.”

Claire studied the unconscious man while Lorna dug her hand into the man’s pocket and pulled out a set of keys. Well, shoot. Claire had really wanted to flirt with him, to test whether blondes do have more fun. Her sister had talked Claire into a makeover the night before, her first day of summer break from teaching. She had been nervous about testing the waters with her new look. She’d even worn one of Jenn’s outfits, because hers just didn’t seem to go with that blonde-and-fun thing. When the stranger had made eye contact with her, she’d thought he was interested. Now he would probably be too embarrassed to talk to her, much less flirt.

Maybe it was only certain blondes who had more fun….

So much for the great experiment, she thought with a sigh.

“Mr. Gerard,” Lorna said, crouching beside him and patting his cheek.

His eyes opened. He looked around in momentary confusion, then focused on Claire. His eyes were brown, flecked with gold, like amber, and a little eerie to stare at for long. His short black hair required little fuss, a practical, not-quite-military look. Mid-thirties, she decided. A solid, muscular body dressed in black jeans and a gray sweater—clothes that would make him blend in with a crowd except that he was over six feet tall and extremely attractive in a rugged, angular, mesmerizing kind of way.

Why had he been in such a hurry to leave? It was almost as if seeing her up close had triggered something in him. Yet he didn’t seem the type to shy away from anything, much less an unintimidating first-grade teacher whose newly blond hair and trendy outfit would never hide the fact that she was neither beautiful nor sexy, even if she felt a little bit of both after her makeover.

Finally he looked away and sat up.

“Juice and cookies, Mr. Gerard,” Lorna said. “You won’t be allowed to leave until we give the okay.”

“You think you can stop me?” he challenged, standing. He wobbled a bit.

Claire leaned forward, ready to help prop him up.

Lorna dangled his keys.

For a second, Claire thought he might smile. “You in the habit of taking advantage of unconscious men?” he asked Lorna.

“Do you need a wheelchair to take you to Claire’s table?” she countered.

His mouth twitched. “I can manage.”

“Guess you were telling the truth about being afraid of needles, after all,” Lorna said.

“Maybe.” He turned his gaze on Claire again. “Lead the way.”

He obviously could’ve snatched his keys, but apparently he realized he wasn’t ready to drive. She liked how he adjusted to his situation, considering that a few minutes ago he’d been in such a hurry to leave. “Orange, apple or cranberry juice?” she asked.

“Orange. Please.” He pulled out a cell phone the second he sat down. “Cass? I know you probably just got to bed, but I think I may have lost it…. Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s gone.”

Claire poured the juice and set the cup in front of him. She pushed the plate of cookies closer.

“Long story, involving a mistake,” he said, eyeing Claire in a way that made her hold her breath. “I need you to get over there and see what’s going on…. Yeah. It’s probably too late, but we need to check it out. Call me.” He closed the flap on the phone and set it on the table. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

He swigged half the glass. “People pass out around here often?”

“You’re not the first.”

“Ah. A polite answer to save me from too much embarrassment.” He finished the juice and shoved the glass toward her to refill, then bit off half a cookie. “Have you worked here long?”

“I’ve been volunteering one Saturday a month since March, but now that it’s summer I’ll help out once a week.”

“Are you a student?”

She knew she looked younger than her age. “I teach first grade.”

“For how long?”

Was he trying to figure out how old she was? “Four years.” I’m twenty-six. Is that too young to interest you?

“How long until the drill sergeant gives me back my keys?”

Claire smiled at his description of Lorna. “A half hour, maybe. When they’re sure you’re stable.”

He finished the cookie. “That’s never happened to me before,” he said.

She sat back, her smile broadening. So, he was a normal man, after all, worried that he appeared weak.

“It hasn’t,” he insisted, looking at his watch.

“I believe you.”

“You’re laughing at me.”

“Just at your ego.” She angled toward him. “I don’t think less of you, even if you don’t like needles.”

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am.”

She laughed, appreciating his dry sense of humor, and he seemed to relax a little more—or perhaps resigned himself to the situation.

“I’m Quinn Gerard,” he said, extending his hand.

“Claire Winston.” His hand engulfed hers, and was warm and…ridiculously arousing. She knew some people had chemical reactions to other people. It had just never happened to her. Not on first meeting. Not with a stranger.

“Why do you volunteer here, Claire Winston?”

Raw emotions rose up, catching her off guard. After all this time she should be able to say the words out loud without her throat closing. “Six months ago my parents were in a car accident. My father died instantly, but my mother survived a little while longer, in part because of blood transfusions. She died of other complications, but that extra time meant we got to say goodbye.”

His hesitation lasted but a second. “I’m sorry.”

He sounded more matter-of-fact than sympathetic. She moved the plate of cookies to the left a few inches then back again. “The work done here is not just important but critical. I do what I can.”