The contrast between his rough, tough-guy appearance and the domestic act he was performing did funny things to her head.
She had a sudden, breathtaking vision of a dark-haired little boy sitting in the seat of the cart, laughing up at Cian, grabbing at his swinging braids with chubby little fists, while his daddy inspected the ingredients on a jar of baby food. Her mind’s-eye picture of sexy, strong man with beautiful, helpless child made something soft and warm blossom behind her chest.
Just then, two women sashayed around the corner, toting baskets on their arms. They were about her age, model-slim and very pretty.
When they saw Cian, their eyes widened and they did double takes.
Her soft and warm feeling popped with the abruptness of a balloon bursting.
As they made their way down the aisle toward her—the nerve of them!—they turned around three more times to check out his butt.
His butt. Like it was public property or something.
Her hands fisted. A thundery little storm began to brew.
Unfortunately the women ruined the beginnings of a perfectly good brood by smiling at her and whispering in a sisterly, conspiratorial manner as they passed, “Heads-up, sweetie, major eye-candy ahead. Check it out.”
As they moved into the next aisle, Jessi blew out a gusty sigh. They’d just had to be nice.
Crossing her arms, she glared at Cian’s butt. Did it have to be so perfect? Couldn’t he have been a little shorter? Maybe he should cut his hair. No, she amended hastily, she loved his hair. It was sexy and silky, and she really wanted to see it without all those braids in once. Not to mention, feel it sweeping her bare skin.
Something in her tummy did a flip-flop. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling. It was a scary feeling. The dratted green-eyed monster had gotten her again. She felt downright possessive of him. Like he was hers or something. What was happening to her?
Cian turned just then and glanced back at her. His eyes narrowed. His hot gaze swept her from head to toe. He wet his lower lip, caught the tip of his tongue between his teeth, and flashed her a wicked smile.
His expression could not have more clearly said, The moment I get through doing what must be done, I’m going to be all over you, woman.
She brightened. “Okay,” she said, nodding agreeably. It was looking like it might just turn out to be a banner day in Jessi St. James’s world, after all.
He tossed his dark head back and laughed, his gilded-scotch gaze glittering with lust and unconcealed masculine triumph.
He was still laughing when he disappeared.
* * *
19
Banner day, her ass.
No bones about it—she hated that mirror.
It took Jessi nearly an hour to find her way back to the SUV.
Or rather, back to where the SUV had been in her other life—the one in which her possibilities for survival hadn’t looked quite so grim.
When they’d stormed from Tiedemann’s earlier, Cian had swiftly rearranged the mirror to his satisfaction, so their new “purchases” might not slip and slide in transit and damage it, then he’d turned and loped down the streets of Inverness at such a furious pace that it had been all she could do to keep up with him. She’d hardly glanced left or right, and hadn’t paid any attention to where they were going, nor had she even bothered trying to gather the breath to talk to him, until they’d finally stopped at the grocery store. Ergo, she’d not realized how far he’d taken her, evading his descendant, until she’d attempted to retrace her steps through the unfamiliar Scottish streets.
Then—because she’d been watching for the SUV, not the store—she’d actually sprinted past Tiedemann’s twice before realizing their stolen rental vehicle was no longer there.
“Shit, shit, shit!” she cried, staring at the empty space in front of the store.
She glanced farther down the street, thinking perhaps the SUV had inexplicably sprouted feet and moved itself while they’d been gone—stranger things had happened of late. Or maybe she’d just forgotten exactly where she’d parked it on the cobbled avenue.
Nope, not a single big, black, stolen SUV. On either side of the street.
How bad could one person’s luck get?
“Don’t answer that,” she snapped hastily, in a general upward direction. “That was a purely rhetorical question, not a show-me-proof one.” She was beginning to suffer the paranoid suspicion that the Universe was using her as the butt of a series of perverse jokes.
The whole time she’d been winding down street after street, she’d been damming a rising tidal wave of panic, assuring herself that everything was going to be just fine, that this was only a minor setback, that Cian had just been sucked back into the mirror earlier than either of them had expected, and once she got back to the SUV, she’d drive them back to their camp and they’d try again tomorrow, with greater success.