The last thought, and the potent feelings behind it, startled him.
She stopped walking and pulled him gently back to where she stood rooted on the sidewalk beside a tall hedge of red tipped photinias. She reached out and touched his brow between his eyes.
“When you concentrate hard, you get this little furrow right here.” Her fingers sent a river of fire surging through him.
His eyes gobbled her up. From her sandals to the faded blue jeans molding to her lithe body to the soft red blouse skimming her breasts to the cute little baseball cap cocked on her head, the bill turned backward. Would he ever get used to looking at her? If he stared at her for a thousand hours, he imagined he would still find something fascinating to see. Reaching over, he slipped off her sunglasses, folded them, and stuck them in her shirt pocket.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I wanted to see your eyes.”
“Why?” Alarmed, she raised a hand to her face. “Is something wrong? Is my makeup smeared?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” Damn Niles Hunter for making her doubt herself as a woman. “I just needed to see those beautiful eyes the color of velvet twilight.”
She gifted him with an ear-to-ear grin that heated Gage’s belly straight to his center. God, he loved to make her light up like Christmas.
Whoa! Wait a minute, buddy. Slow this pony down. This is not a proper engagement. She doesn’t want to be your wife. She doesn’t love you and you don’t love her. She’s not your soul mate or your other half. You’re just helping a friend. Get your head out of those clouds and your libido back on its leash. Pronto. In fact, may I suggest using the Ultratron titanium double-locking system that even Harry Houdini—at least according to the commercials—couldn’t have opened.
Okay. So this would not be a forever thing, but what was wrong with enjoying the moment?
Hmm, what was wrong with that? Oh, about a hundred million things. Least of which was getting hurt again.
He opened his mouth to put down the ground rules, to tell her they were walking a dangerous tightrope. One wrong move and they were both going to tumble. His mouth opened, but no words came out.
Inches separated them. Her breasts were almost level with his chest. Her chin was just below his.
And her eyes. Oh man, those eyes. Drilling right into him. Sharp and intelligent, independent and strong, unflinching and principled. Something odd inside his chest pinged.
He couldn’t be falling for her. No, not him. He was just thrown a little off-balance, his perspective knocked askew by those indigo eyes. He just needed something temporary to hold on to until he regained his composure.
Gage reached out and touched her hand.
She made a small startled noise at the contact.
His blood surged. The sudden tenderness in her face, shining through all those defenses, floored him.
So what if they weren’t soul mates? So what if they didn’t get married? So what if this was all a sham for the benefit of her parents?
It felt right to run his hands up her arms, over her shoulders, and past her throat to cup that sweet-but-disconcerted chin in his palms.
What felt even more right was to push his fedora back, dip his head, and capture those lips. To glide his mouth lightly over hers again and again with just enough pressure to make her sigh for more.
When he finally let go and stepped back, her eyelashes fluttered open. He found himself lost once more in those beguiling depths.
“You don’t have to kiss me,” she whispered. “When there’s no one around to see. I don’t want us to pretend with each other. It’ll make things too confusing. You know. For later. When we break up.”
As if he wasn’t confused enough. As if he wasn’t already regretting the breakup of their fictional engagement.
He had come to Texas to start a new life and instead he repeated the same old patterns, running from the same old paparazzi, helping some beautiful damsel in distress.
Same old Dr. Hero.
But despite all rational arguments to the contrary, he couldn’t stop himself from kissing her again. And she didn’t put up one protest. Her arms went around his neck, and her lips sought his just as eagerly as he sought hers. He could feel her heart thrumming against his chest, they were so close.
What was going on here? Why this intense sparking between them? Was it merely the sense of adventure, or was there something more? Something strongly elemental drawing them into each other’s arms.
Then without warning a man with several cameras around his neck leaped from the bushes and started taking pictures. Behind him tumbled an attractive woman dressed in four-inch heels and a purple suit with a very short skirt. She had a tape recorder on a strap around her shoulder and a microphone in her hand.
“Amanda Jacobs, TMZ,” she said. “Dr. Gregory, can you give us a few minutes of your time?”
Gage winced. He hated putting Janet through this invasion of her privacy. Instinctively, he snatched her hand. One concern was paramount in his head. Protect her. At all costs.
“Run,” he said, “we can outpace them.”
They took off across the grass, sprinting around park benches. Dust-gray pigeons flew up before them. Amanda Jacobs’ heels clattered against the pavement, but soon both she and her middle-aged, out-of-shape cameraman fell behind.
They zigzagged around the pond, snaking past hot dog vendors, dashing by a group of startled sunbathers.
Gage looked back. The cameraman had doubled over to catch his breath, and Amanda Jacobs was busy berating him, but he and Janet didn’t stop.
Hand in hand they ran. Their palms forged.
Janet kept up with Gage step for step. She wasn’t even breathing hard. Her entire body tingled. Her cheeks flush pink. She looked positively radiant.
Fleeing from paparazzi must agree with her. She looked like
