He stepped forward, cupping her face in his hands. “You talk to them, wait for them to come to you, then give them physical and verbal comfort. They know. They’re far more intuitive than humans. A touch, a look, spacial proximity. The connection with them has to be genuine—something they feel.”
“Is this close enough?” Her gaze met his as she slid her arms around his waist. “Touch?” He felt her fingers grasp his shirt, pulling it free from the waist of his jeans, before she pressed her hands against the skin of his back. He shuddered from the contact. “And look?” Her voice was husky. She was just as affected as he was. Her eyes were warm, inviting. But it was more than desire. He felt it.
He shook his head. “No doubt about the connection.”
“No?” Her breath wavered.
“No.” His mouth brushed hers, his heart thumping like crazy. “Hell, no.” He wrapped one arm around her waist, his hand stroking her soft hair.
Her hands wound along his back, her fingertips tracing his spine. He arched into her, pressing the soft curves of her breasts against his chest. His groan was caught in her mouth. Her lips clung to him, soft, yielding. Her offer was too sweet to refuse. Wanting her, the ache surging in his blood, was all that mattered.
Her hands gripped his shirt before splaying wide to stop him. “Wait, Archer,” she gasped.
“I don’t want to,” he argued, nuzzling the side of her neck.
Her breath hitched when his lips latched onto her earlobe. “I know... Me neither...but...” She pushed again, putting the slightest space between them. “It’s important.”
He waited, his eyes searching hers. “Then tell me.”
She nodded, clearing her throat. “Hold on.” Her hands still gripped his shirt, making it impossible to miss her agitation.
“You’re shaking, Eden. Talk to me.” He anchored his arms around her waist, keeping her close.
She nodded. “I... When I arrived at the refuge I’d had a bad day.”
He nodded, remembering their first encounter all too clearly. “And I ripped into you.”
“You thought I was someone else.” She shook her head. “And I went along with it... Because I didn’t want to be who I am. I thought it would be easier. It gave me an in, a way to be there without being the...enemy, I guess. I’d do my job, compile my reports for the board and leave. You, your family, would never know the truth.”
Archer stared at her, her words making no sense. “The temp job?”
“No. I’m not a temp... I just let you think I was.” Her voice wobbled. “For too long.”
Archer’s nerves went cold, his stomach leaden. “What job?”
“Let me explain, please, first.” She spoke softly. “You need to understand.”
He frowned. “What job?”
“I’m a grant administrator for Southwest National Bank. And one of the foundations I manage is the Monroe Foundation.” She swallowed. “I’m Eden M-Monroe. Caraway was my married name.”
His hands slid off her shoulders, but he never looked away. Monroe. “Why lie about that? I don’t understand.” He could tell there was more coming; her face said it all. He stepped back, forcing her to let go of his shirt, and crossed his arms over his chest.
“You said you’d never felt trapped. But I am.” She shook her head. “People I don’t know treat me differently because of that name. It’s the thing that keeps me chained where I am—that puts up an obstacle for every door it opens. My life is about negotiating, sacrificing, fighting to be heard.” She broke off. “Being here...being someone else, freed me for a few days.”
He turned slowly, staring down at her. “I need a minute.”
“I came here to prove myself to my father. To show him I was worthy of the family name, that I was worthy of his respect. But now I know I don’t want it. His name or his respect. All I want is—”
“How were you going to do that, Eden?” Archer asked, his throat tight. “No more lies.”
She swallowed, wrapping her arms about her waist. All the color faded from her cheeks. “He wanted to deny the refuge more money—”
“Why?” Archer snapped.
She paused.
“What was his reason?”