He didn’t smile but there was amusement in his eyes. Maybe he was remembering that when he had kissed her, she’d done nothing to discourage or stop him. He’d ended it before she had.
However, the memory of that swift but potent kiss was immediately elbowed aside by ones of him demanding to know what or who she’d seen before barely escaping The Major’s house.
The space around her seemed to shrink, mostly due to Trapper’s large presence and his cocky stance: feet apart, jacket spread open because he’d slid his hands into the rear pockets of his jeans. And those damn blue eyes, penetrating and intimidating.
Panic swooped toward her like a bird of prey, blocking out the light with its wide wings, stealing her breath with their noisy flapping. Her hand moved to her throat. “I’m not feeling well.”
“Are you going to throw up?”
Immediately he was there, bending over her, holding a plastic basin under her chin with one hand. His other he placed in the center of her back, where the gown was open. Against her hot skin, she felt the cool imprint of each fingertip, the pressure of his wide palm.
A tide of heat spread up from her chest to enclose her head. The rims of her ears caught fire. She broke a sweat from her scalp to the soles of her feet. She kept her head down and prayed she wouldn’t retch as she had the night before. Even dry heaves would be humiliating.
“Breathe through your mouth.”
She did as he instructed, and that alleviated the nausea. Eventually the encroaching darkness and noise receded and then were gone entirely. The hot flash cooled. “I’m okay.” She pushed away the basin and straightened her spine to break the contact of his hand with her bare back.
“Want some water?”
She shook her head.
“Something else?”
Another head shake.
“Why don’t you lie down?”
She looked up at him. “Why don’t you go away?”
“A few questions, and then I will.” He returned the basin to the nightstand then backed up to the chair he’d sat in the night before and struck the same pose, elbows on knees, eyes on her. “Detectives from the SO questioned you?”
“Twice.”
“How’d it go?”
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“Fine.”
“They clear you to go back to Dallas?”
She looked away from his blue-flame gaze. “Not yet.”
“Huh. Then your sessions didn’t go so fine.”
“Before I sign off on my statement, they want me to go through it one more time with…with Texas Rangers.” She rushed on before his arched eyebrow became a smart remark. “Only to make absolutely certain that I haven’t forgotten something.”
He just stared at her, saying nothing, but his skeptical expression put her on the defensive. “You should remember from your days in law enforcement how it works.”
“I do remember. Know what I remember best, Kerra? People lie.”
“I don’t.”
“No?” He tilted his head in the direction of the floral arrangements lined up along the windowsill. “Mark? You and he shared an apartment on West 110th Street when you were both attending Columbia. He’s currently a successful architect in his native Baltimore. He’s gay. He’s happily married. He and his partner just adopted their second child.”
Her surprise was such that she barely had enough voice to ask, “How did you know all that?”