“ You know. You’ve seen right through me since the day we met. Most of the time you didn’t like what you saw.”
“ That’s not true. It was just that the situation was complicated and you were making it more complicated. I had to do what—” She moved toward the door. “Good night, Travis.”
She was gone.
Open mouth, insert foot. Dammit, he should have kept quiet.
Hell, no, they were sharing close quarters and he had never been one to suffer in silence. He was doing enough trying to keep himself sympathetic and in brotherly mode. Let her help. Now that she knew, she’d be on guard.
That’s what he wanted, right?
No way.
What he wanted was to have her on his lap, with those long legs wound around him and making sounds that—
Don’t think about Melissa. Read this damn book. Or make plans that would get them all out of this situation.
Don’t think about her.
Don’t think about him.
My God, she had run away. Incredible. She had sworn she would never run away from anything again after Jessica had brought her back. But she had fled like a schoolkid.
Why? It wasn’t as if she were a blushing virgin. She had tasted sex with enthusiasm. Sex was joy and pleasure, and she loved it the way she loved the euphoric burn of a good exercise workout.
It’s been there from the beginning.
Since that first day she had seen him running at Juniper. She had joked with Jessica about her sexy neighbor, but she had been half serious. If she hadn’t been so frightened about her dreams, she might have paid Travis a visit for another reason. She had felt the same spark but had ignored it.
As she should ignore it now.
But she couldn’t because she’d sworn to herself that she’d confront any fear. And yet she had run away from Travis.
Because she thought sleeping with him would dishonor her mourning for Jessica? No, life was for living and Jessica would never want her to give up one minute of happiness to convention.
One-night stand.
That must be it. She was afraid she might want more than a one-night stand. She was drawn to Travis on too many levels. Lately she had come too close to him and had seen another side of him. He was right; sometimes she could see through him, and what she saw was not what he thought. She had seen humor, patience, and compassion behind that cool, analytical wall he erected. Something about him . . . touched her.
The thought sent another ripple of panic through her. She was too vulnerable right now and she certainly didn’t need another obstacle to overcome. She wasn’t about to try to jump over those walls he used to keep everyone at a distance.
So she would keep her own distance from now on.
19
Number 15 Rue Lestape was a small, elegant town house near St.-Germain.
“He’s not there now, you know,” Pichot said. “ I checked it out before I called you.”
“He may come back.” Galen tested the front door and then strode quickly through the alley to the back of the house. “Or there may be something inside that will tell me where he is.” He bent down and examined the lock on the door. Excellent craftsmanship. It took him a couple of minutes to spring it. “Open sesame.”
“ What if there’s an alarm system?” Pichot asked. “Maybe we shouldn’t—”
“Deschamps isn’t going to want the police to come pounding on his door.” He stepped inside. “Come on, Pichot.”
“Maybe I should wait in the car.”
“ I don’t think so.” Galen smiled at him over his shoulder as he turned on his flashlight. “ Not that I don’t trust you, but I like the idea of having company while I’m strolling through Deschamps’s lair. You’re a little too wary of our absent friend.”
“ You don’t need to worry. I’m more scared of you.” Pichot’s gaze was wandering around the small hall. “ Nice. I wonder what that tapestry cost?”
“ You’ve never been here?”
“Deschamps is not one to get chummy. I always picked him up outside.”
It was an exquisitely furnished area. A Persian carpet covered the oak floor and led toward a large room several yards away.
“ What are you looking for?” Pichot asked.
“A study, a library . . .” He glanced up at the spiral staircase. “Maybe the bedroom.”
“ What’s that?”
Pichot was staring across the room at a door. But not an ordinary door. Every inch of it was covered with magnificent floral carvings.
Galen started toward it. “Evidently a portal of importance. Let’s see what’s behind it.”
The door was locked.
“Hold the flashlight.” He squatted and started to work. With some difficulty, he finally managed to spring the lock. He took the flashlight from Pichot. “ Now let’s see what we have—” He stiffened. “Holy shit.”