For several seconds she lost herself in the ethereal beauty of his eyes, drinking in the heat, the sincerity, the desire, that were all too evident in those ghostly depths.
It would be all too easy to fall for this man.
This stranger.
She blinked and tried to free her hand from his. He held it fast, then with his free hand, pushed the food aside and leaned across the table. She watched his approach, her gaze skating between his lips and his eyes, torn between watching the desire so evident in his gaze, and the advance of the luscious mouth she just wanted to kiss forever. She closed her eyes at the last moment, welcoming his kiss, opening her mouth, drawing him deeper. God, he tasted good. She kissed him long and hard, exploring his mouth with her tongue, tasting him as thoroughly as he tasted her.
By the time he pulled back, her breathing was ragged and tiny beads of perspiration dotted her overheated skin.
'I want you,' he whispered, his breath so warm and fast against her lips. He raised a hand, cupping her cheek, his fingers seeming to burn where they touch. 'Now.'
Oh God… she so wanted the same. Yet she couldn't. Not here, not when she knew so little about him. Not when she didn't even know what he really wanted.
He began to drop feather light kisses on her lips, her nose, her cheeks. 'Trust your instincts,' he said. 'They rarely lie.'
'It's the rarely bit I'm worried about.'
'I'm not lying, Eryn. I want you.'
His mouth moved down her neck. She closed her eyes again, enjoying the sensation, feeling warmth flooding all the right places. 'That I don't doubt. It's the rest of your story I'm worried about.'
'I've told you no lies here.'
His tongue skimmed the moisture around the base of her neck. A tremor ran through her. 'It's the truths you haven't told that concern me.'
'The only truth that matters right now is what's happening between us.'
His breath was a warm caress of air against her neck. She licked her lips, fighting the urge to leap across the table and take what he was offering.
'Tell me your name.'
He pulled back a little, his gaze searching hers. 'It matters that much?'
'Yes.'
An oddly pleased smile momentarily tugged his lips. 'Grey Harrison James McConnell—the third—at your service.'
A laugh bubbled through her. 'That's some moniker. No wonder you're reluctant to announce it.'
'It's the first time I've told anyone in what seems like ages.' He touched her face again, his fingers gentle as he traced a line from her cheek to her lips. 'In all honesty, I shouldn't have even told you.'
'Then why did you?'
'Because a drowning man should never forsake a life buoy.' His words were little more than a whisper against her lips as his mouth claimed hers again. This time, the kiss was a long and sensuous exploration that made her ache for far more than sex. Because this time his kiss held more than just passion.
This time, for the first time, she sensed that he was a kindred spirit in loneliness.
Or was she reading far more into the kiss, and his actions, than she ever should?
The words were a sensual plea that invaded every corner of her mind. One that made her feel all weak and gooey. She pulled back and took a shuddery breath. Fought to gather the shattered wisps of control.
But where this man was concerned there was no control.
And certainly no backing away from the forest fire they'd started last night.
'On one condition,' she somehow managed to say.
'What condition?'
'You answer some questions.'
He outlined her lips with a gentle finger, his gaze distracted. 'You may not like the answers.'
'That doesn't matter. I just need answers.'
His finger paused, his gaze suddenly sharpening. 'And if I don't give them?'
'Then I walk out the door right now, and you and I are finished.'
'That's akin to sexual blackmail.'
'No, that's honesty. I may want you, Grey, but I want answers more.'
He released a breath that was full of frustration, then sat back and picked up his knife and fork. 'Okay. But I could get into deep trouble for it.'
She raised an eyebrow. 'Then why agree to answer?'
He half smiled. 'I'd rather be in trouble with my superiors than have you walk out that door.'
His words warmed her in a way his touch hadn't. 'How would they even know you've talked to me?'
'They know you've been assigned the case. They will know I've bedded you. It's not hard to put two and two together—
unless, of course, you intend to keep what I tell you to yourself.'
'You know I can't.'
He nodded. 'Then it's yet another black blot on my record.'
'Sounds like you've got more than one.'
'Trouble and I are familiar friends.'
'So, who do you work for?'
'That I can't tell you. Not yet. Not until they give clearance.'
'So you're some sort of spy? Part of a secret government service?'
'Spy? No. That's CIA territory.'
She stared at him, remembering her earlier feelings, remembering her certainty that he was here to find, and kill, their killer.
'You're a hitman. A government hitman.'
He grimaced. 'Enforcer is a nicer term, but yeah, that's basically what I am.'
Her eyes widened at his confirmation. 'The government has its own hitmen?'
'There are many evils in this world that the court and the justice system are incapable of dealing with. Evils that the penitentiary system would never be able to hold.'
'That doesn't give the government the right to be judge, jury and executioner.'
'Would you rather evil be allowed to roam free, creating havoc as it wishes?'
'That depends on what you term evil. And who decides.'
'There are rules and checks in place.'
She snorted softly. 'Like rules ever stopped a government from taking advantage of the system or doing the wrong thing.'
'No system is ever one hundred percent accurate. Even the court system.' He paused for a moment, eating some of his meal. 'Look, I'd rather not get into this any deeper right now. What questions about the case do you have?'
She wolfed down some of her pancakes, barely tasting them, then asked, 'If you know for certain the killer will strike tonight, do you also have an inkling of who the victim is?'
He considered her for a moment, expression flat. 'Yes.'
'How?'
'Our clairvoyants saw their images. There are seven altogether.'
'So even though you know the victims, history can't be changed?'
'History can, but it always takes time. Five have died, but there is always the hope we can save the other two.'
'Why not tell me so I can tell the police the identities of the other two?'
'Because I'm taking care of it.'
She raised an eyebrow. 'No, you're not. You're here with—
