over, and he did have a reputation with the ladies that he couldn’t deny. But he was not spoiled or pampered and his playboy image had been greatly exaggerated, probably by Derek himself.
He had allowed her to see a side of him that she suspected not many even knew existed. Few people would believe that the debonair, sophisticated Southern charmer’s youthful past included a nefarious secret.
By the end of her long walk—with Derek—she had come to the conclusion that she could handle only one major problem at a time. She’d just have to put her feelings for Derek on the back burner. Being in love was a foreign concept to her. She had spent her entire life trying to avoid repeating the mistake she had made with Noah—becoming involved in a committed relationship that could lead to marriage.
After lunch, which she and Derek had shared with Nic, Griff, Sanders, and Barbara Jean, she had returned to the Powell Agency office there at Griffin’s Rest. With the bulk of the agency’s employees working day and night on the Copycat Carver case and with reports pouring in from various legal and illegal contacts the world over, the staff at their Knoxville headquarters was suffering from information overload. Add to that the fact that only a handful of agents were privy to the most sensitive information and that meant piles of reports were waiting to be read, studied, and digested. Everyone except Barbara Jean had worked all afternoon and until well past seven. They had taken a long overdue break only when Barbara Jean had summoned all of them to the dining room for dinner. The group had eaten in relative silence, their conversation limited to their compliments to the chef, Barbara Jean, on the delicious meal. She had smiled, said thank you, and had been gracious enough not to point out that no one had eaten very much. Afterward, Sanders had helped with cleanup and then he and Barbara Jean had bid everyone goodnight shortly after nine o’clock. Nic finally persuaded Griff to call it a night around 10:00 P.M., and Maleah had sensed from the way they’d been looking at each other, they wouldn’t be going to sleep anytime soon.
Alone in the living room with Derek, she shifted the file folders in her lap into a neat pile and laid them aside on the sofa cushion beside her. She glanced at Derek, who seemed absorbed in a crossword puzzle he had ripped out of today’s copy of the
“Alone at last,” he said jokingly.
“So it would seem.” She returned his smile.
“I could fix us a drink,” he suggested. “Or we could raid the kitchen for another piece of BJ’s pecan pie.”
“I shouldn’t have eaten the first piece.” Maleah patted her hips. “I think they’re an inch wider already.”
Derek rose to his feet, dropped the folded newspaper in the chair, and came straight toward her. Before she realized his intention, he leaned over her and placed his open palms on either side of her hips.
“They’re wider by a quarter of an inch at most,” he told her, barely managing not to laugh.
All the while faking a frown, she swatted at his hands until he lifted them off the cushions and away from her hips. He dropped down on the sofa beside her and rested his head on the back cushion.
“You’re tired, aren’t you?” she said.
He glanced at her. “Yeah. You are, too. It’s been a long day.”
“We should probably go upstairs and try to get some sleep,” Maleah said. “But I swear I’m so wired I can’t imagine being able to sleep right now.”
“I know what you mean. It’s been a pretty intense day, starting with this morning’s top secret meeting. Griff’s wound so tight, he’s on the verge of snapping. His drinking binge last night didn’t solve anything for him and it sure didn’t take the edge off.”
“I’m worried about Nic. I’ve never seen her so scared. I honestly think she’s afraid she’s going to lose Griff, that somehow their marriage is going to implode.”
“When a husband and wife keep secrets from each other, it puts a major strain on their marriage.”
“I agree,” Maleah said. “And the not knowing causes as much damage, if not more, than sharing the secret would. In theory, of course. With what’s happening now, a killer targeting the Powell Agency, finding and stopping the killer has to take priority over everything else in Nic and Griff’s life.”
Derek pivoted his head so that he faced her. “In your life and mine, too.”
She nodded. “Finding Anthony Linden has to be our top priority.”
“You know, I think I have Anthony Linden figured out, at least as much as I can with the info I have and by gauging his personality by other professional killers I’ve studied. They all have certain characteristics in common. You’d be surprised at how much a hired assassin has in common with a Special Forces soldier, although society sees one as immoral and the other as a hero.”
“Despite any similarities, there is a difference though, isn’t there?”
“For some, yes,” Derek said. “The fine line that separates the two—villain and hero—is the reason he kills. That and the emotion or lack of emotion involved. Some men enjoy killing. Others hate it, even after it becomes easy to kill.”
“The way it did for you?”
“Yeah, the way it did for me.” He reached out and twined a tendril of her hair around his finger. “Did I ever tell you that I like blonds?”
“You like brunettes and redheads, too.”
“You’re right, I do, but I’m partial to one particular blond.”
She allowed him to pull her toward him by gently tugging on her hair. When they were face to face, only a few inches separating them, she asked, “Is she anyone I know, this particular blond?”
“All you have to do is look in a mirror.”
Her breath caught in her throat.
“Do you have any idea how much I want to kiss you?” he asked.
“Yes.” She knew because she wanted that kiss every bit as much as he did. Maybe more. After all, she was in love with him, but she had no reason to believe that he felt the same way. For Derek, this was probably a flirtation that he hoped would lead to sex.
Derek released her hair, leaned forward enough so that their mouths touched, and whispered against her lips, “I swear to God, I won’t ever hurt you. I’d cut off my right arm first.”
Excitement and anticipation ignited inside her and spread through her like a wildfire when he kissed her. Aggressive yet gentle, he took her mouth, but otherwise didn’t touch her. She returned the kiss eagerly, wanting him and needing so much more.
The urge to touch him became overwhelming. She lifted her arms and draped them around his neck as she deepened the kiss. Taking his cue from her, Derek delved his tongue inside her mouth as he eased his hands beneath her and lifted her up and onto his lap. With their mouths fused together and their bodies straining for closer contact, she clung to him. He roamed his hands over her back and hips while she forked her fingers through the long, thick hair at the nape of his neck.
When they finally came up for air, both breathing hard, their gazes connecting, Derek smiled and then glanced at her throat and the expanse of flesh exposed by the V-shaped neckline of her blouse.
“We have on too many clothes for what I have in mind,” he told her.
She nodded. “Your room or mine?”
He chuckled. “Whichever is the closest.”
“Mine,” she said.
He stood, taking her up with him, still holding her in his arms.
“We’ll get there faster if you put me down and let me walk.”
He eased her slowly to her feet, her body sliding along his, arousing them both even more. She grabbed his hand and yanked him along with her as she raced out of the living room, down the hall and up the stairs.
Shiloh Whitman often wondered why Dr. Meng had accepted her as a student and wondered if the others saw her as a wannabe psychic. After all, how valuable would she ever be as anything other than a sideshow amusement? She didn’t possess the gift of clairvoyance or channeling or precognition or psychometry or telepathy. All she had was the ability to sense psychic energy and entities and to see the aura around a person.
When she was a child, her siblings and cousins had laughed at her when she told them they had different colored lights shining around them. And her parents had scolded her, telling her to stop lying or people would think she was crazy. She had always been a misfit, the one thing she did have in common with the others, especially with Meredith. A sympathetic friend in college had told her she should find someone to help her figure out what was wrong with her. And oddly enough less than a year later, Dr. Meng actually found her, quite by accident, in of all
