this.”
She winced. “You have no idea what kind of girl I am or where I’ve been.”
He sure as hel didn’t know what he’d just said to hurt her.
To piss her off. He was no good at relationships that lasted longer than a night or two. He didn’t do touchy- feely.
He didn’t hold hands.
But he reached for hers, covering her fingers on the steering wheel. “What’s the matter?”
“Don’t touch me.”
No good at relationships at al .
So he let her go, keeping his eyes on her face. “Al I meant was that you’re too beautiful for some bored night clerk to forget.” For him to ever forget. “We can’t afford to attract attention.”
“I know.” She let go of the wheel, folding her hands together tightly in her lap. “Sorry for overreacting.”
“Not overreacting. You’ve had a rough night.”
She flashed him a grateful glance. “Something like that.”
Woman calmed. Crisis averted. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t over, that there was something more.
He did a quick scan of the dark parking lot: empty cars, broken bottles, weeds pushing through pavement. Damn.
He couldn’t even tel her to lock the car doors.
“Anybody comes up to the Jeep while I’m in the office, you lay on the horn.”
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She arched her eyebrows. “I thought we didn’t want to attract attention.”
Her flicker of spirit reassured him.
“Just do it,” he said and went to get them a room.
Not a nice room, he thought after they were inside.
He secured the double locks on the door and stood with his hands in his pockets, trying to see it through her eyes: the mirrored wal , the nasty carpet, the broken lamp shade.
The ancient TV was bolted to the dresser. The three porn channels were free, the desk clerk had informed him with a smirk as he handed over the key.
Lara’s arms were folded across her body, like she didn’t want to touch anything. Probably afraid of catching an STD
from the bedspread. Or maybe she was just cold.
Iestyn cleared his throat. “Not exactly what you’re used to.”
“You either.”
“I’ve slept in some pretty rough places.”
“It’s better than the storm cel ar.”
“But not as clean.”
She smiled at that, but her back remained rigid. He could feel her discomfort from across the room.
“You can shower first,” he offered, trying not to remember how great she looked in a towel, slim bare legs, pale bare arms, her dark hair damp on her shoulders.
She nodded, but she did not move, her attention apparently riveted by the two double beds that took up most of the floor space.
Reluctant suspicion took hold in his mind. She was, what?
Twenty-two? Twenty-three? She couldn’t possibly be . . .
“You ever stay in a room with a man before?”
She met his gaze, her eyebrows lifting. “Are you asking if I’m a virgin?”
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V i r g i n i a K a n t r a
Damn it, he was embarrassed. “Yes.”
“No.”
He leaned one shoulder against the door frame. The boyfriend, he thought. The one with the ponytail. “So angels have sex?”
“The nephilim have human bodies,” she said with dignity.
“We use them in the usual human way.”
“To have sex.”
“And to eat and to sleep. Al normal bodily functions.
