Kissing Sin (Riley Jenson Guardian 2)

He nodded, and moved aside. I walked into the living room and scrawled a note for Rhoan. "What time is he due back?"

"He wasn't sure. Could be late." Keys jangled behind me. "He left us a Merc in case we needed it."

When the Directorate had personnel go under safe cover, they obviously didn't do it by halves. "Fine. Let's go, then."

We took the lift down to the basement, and walked across to the penthouse parking bay. Quinn did the gentlemanly thing and opened the door, ushering me inside before climbing into the driver's side.

For a good ten minutes, he didn't say anything. I stared out the window, thinking about the future, and hoping like hell I actually had something decent to look forward to.

"What is the appointment for?" he asked, eventually.

"As I said, that's none of your business."

"Are you ill?"

I snorted softly. Part of me wished I was ill. It would be better than probably being sterile. "No."

"Then why a specialist?"

Annoyance ran through me, and I glanced at him. "You have no right to ask these questions."

"And no right to care?" he bit back. "You're a fool if you think that I don't."

I wasn't a fool. His caring had always been in his touch, and occasionally, in his eyes, even when his words had denied the possibility. But I couldn't afford to dwell on it, because right now I couldn't afford to do exclusive with a vampire. And he would want exclusive, even though he hadn't actually come out and said it.

"Quinn, I'm not up to dealing with what you want right now." Not when I had tried. Not when I had far bigger problems.

He didn't say anything, and we continued on in silence. He asked for the address once we reached the city, and pulled to a halt outside the Collins Street building. Ignoring the "no standing" signs, he parked the car then got out, walking around to open the door.

I ignored his offer of assistance, and looked up at the thirty floors above me. Dr. Harvey was on the twentieth, which was something of a stretch for my fear of heights. And while, technically, that fear shouldn't appear when I was in a building with four walls all around, it didn't seem to matter a damn to my stomach. Last time, I'd almost puked every time I'd looked out the doctor's office windows. And the lift ride back down to ground level had left me shaking and sweating. Not an experience I was looking forward to reliving.

"Are you sure you're going to be all right?"

"Of course. I'm not ill, as I said."

"I guess not," he replied shortly. "Even though you've gone as white as a sheet."

"My doctor is on the twentieth floor." And he knew about my ridiculous fear of tall, tall buildings and their awful elevators.

"You want me to accompany you in the lift? It might be easier if you have company."

I shook my head and ignored the caring in his voice. "I have no idea how long I'll be."

"I'll be waiting in the foyer."

"Fine." Tightly gripping my wallet, I walked past him and into the building. I didn't get far.

"Riley?"

I froze, recognizing the rich tones, knowing who it was even before I turned around.

Misha.

My ex-mate, and the very last person in the world I wanted to see right now.

He rose from the chair and strolled toward me, a tall, lean figure who caught the eye as much for the gracefulness of his movements as the expensive cut of his clothes. The sunlight streaming through the glass turned his silver hair a rich, burnished gold, but nothing could warm the cold calculation from his icy eyes.

"Misha," I said, glad to hear my voice was even. "What are you doing here?"