No Humans Involved (Otherworld 7)

He laughed. Then his eyes met mine, face turning serious. He moved closer, his hand going under my chin, warm fingers against my skin, tilting my face up, leaning down to me.

He wiped his thumb over my cheekbone, frowned and peered at it.

"You cut your cheek on something." He reached for the spot again, then pulled back. "I probably shouldn't touch it. My hands are filthy."

I met his gaze. "I don't mind."

He hung there, over me, one hand at my back, clutching my blouse, eyes darkening, body taut, as if fighting the urge to take me up on my invitation. If I made a move, his resolve would break. I could see that in his eyes. Just reach up, put my arms around his neck, press my body against his and I'd see that fire again, feel that passion. No tortured cab ride back to his hotel. That would take too long. Make my move and I'd be carried back in the shadows of that alcove and--

I swallowed hard and stepped back. Probably the hardest thing I've ever done, but follow through on that impulse and there'd be regret come morning. Take it slow. Make sure it's where I want to go--where he wants to go.

As I fussed with my shoe strap, Jeremy peered out into the dark, wet street, squaring his shoulders against the chill. "We need to get you someplace warm and dry--"

A taxi turned the corner.

A quarter-smile. "Now, there's the kind of magic I like."

He stepped out and waved it over, then turned to me. "I'm going back to the shop, to see whether I can pick up Botnick's trail. With any luck, he'll head somewhere interesting after his encounter."

"Are you sure? It might be--"

"Dangerous?" The corners of his mouth twitched. "Don't worry. I'll be careful."

The cab stopped. He opened the rear door halfway, then paused, looking back at me.

"You're welcome to come with me. I didn't mean--" He gestured at the cab. "I'm not trying to get rid of you. I just thought you'd probably had enough..."

"If you could use me, I'd go. But tracking is your field. I'd only get in the way."

I slid past him into the car.

He leaned in and swept a strand of wet hair back from my face. "You're never in the way, Jaime."

I turned my face toward his, lifting my chin...

"Call me when you get to the house," he said. "So I know you arrived safely."

For a second, watching him close the door, I almost suspected he'd been teasing me--here and in the tunnel. But no. Jeremy was nothing if not responsible. At a time like this, flirting would be the last thing on his mind.

Damn.

He jogged around to give the driver directions and a few bills. As the cab pulled away from the curb, I remembered his coat and rolled down my window.

"Your--" I called, but he had his back to me, hurrying to the shelter of the awnings. A second later, he vanished into the shadows, looping back to Botnick's shop.

I rolled up the window.

"Forgot his jacket," I said to the driver, who was watching me through the rearview mirror.

The young woman gave a slight roll of her eyes, as if to say she'd never accept a man's jacket in the first place. Too bad. I'd never been one to refuse an opened door or a pulled-out chair. As long as the man understood I could open my own doors, could pull out my own chairs, then I wasn't adverse to a little chivalry. With Jeremy, it wasn't so much that as old-fashioned good manners.

He may not have grown up with women in his life, but he'd had Elena around for over fifteen years now, and knew better than to underestimate "the fairer sex." Had it been Elena back at that shop, she would have gone down the chute first and taken on those rats herself, protecting him, watching his back. And he'd have let her. With me, it was a question of limitations and experience. While I wanted, someday, to have the nerve and the know-how to do such things myself, in the meantime, I wasn't going to protest about being carried past a nest of rats. Or taking his coat when I was cold.

> I pulled the jacket around me, savoring the warmth for the rest of the cab ride.

PLAYED

WHEN I ARRIVED IN BRENTWOOD, a guard met me at the door. Like being sixteen again, arriving home after curfew. I even got the "what have you been up to?" arched brow from him as he surveyed my ruined outfit.