Falling Awake(46)
Author: Jayne Ann Krentz

There was a short silence. And then the light came on in the small space, spilling into the kitchen.

She saw Ellis silhouetted in the fluorescent glow, the gun alongside his leg, pointed toward the floor. He stood looking into the laundry room, his features stark and grim.

“You just had one hell of a close call, Sphinx,” he said, his voice still frighteningly low and even.

Unconcerned with his brush with a messy death, Sphinx greeted Ellis with a few flicks of his tail and then padded to his food dish.

Isabel started to breathe again.

“Sorry,” she said. “I forgot to mention the little dog door. Sphinx found it right after we moved in. He disappeared while I was unpacking. I thought he ran off. I was worried he wouldn’t be able to find his way back but he came home a short time later, just as calm as you please.”

For a couple of heartbeats, Ellis did not move. She was not sure he had even heard her. But just as she parted her lips to repeat her explanation of events, he turned, very slowly, as though reluctant to look at her.

“You’re supposed to be on the floor,” he said.

The ice in his words froze her to the spot.

“Ellis? What’s wrong? I’m sorry you were startled.” She was starting to get worried now. “Are you okay?”

His jaw was rigid and his eyes narrowed in a way that reminded her uncomfortably of Sphinx in a bad mood. She got the impression he was angry but whether he was mad at her or himself was not clear.

“Sorry,” he said roughly. He stalked back into the living room and put the pistol inside the briefcase. Then he straightened and looked at her. “I’ve been a little jumpy for the past three months.”

She cleared her throat. “Yes, I can see that.”

“Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t scare me. I was concerned, that’s all.” She glanced at the briefcase. “Although I, uh, didn’t realize that you were armed.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there looking at her with an enigmatic expression.

She reminded herself that he had just responded to a perceived threat with a gun in his hand. There was probably a lot of adrenaline and testosterone still pumping through him. She needed to give him time to get himself under control.

“It’s okay, Ellis.” She made her voice as soothing as possible. “Why don’t I fix you a nice cup of tea?”

He took a step toward her and stopped. “Next time I tell you to get down on the floor and stay there, you do it. Understood?”

She sighed. “You’re really mad, aren’t you?”

“I’m mad, all right. Last night someone you knew well got himself killed, remember?”

“I’m hardly likely to forget it.”

“We aren’t playing games here.”

“I’m perfectly well aware of that.” She felt her own temper start to flare. “You don’t need to lecture me.”

This discussion was turning into a full-blown quarrel, she thought. Why was that happening? Now that the small scare was past, they should both be relaxing, savoring the relief, maybe even joking about the incident.

But there was no amusement in Ellis. She could feel the edgy, battle-ready tension coming off him in dangerous waves of raw power. She wouldn’t have been surprised if there had been a few sparks in the air.

“No,” he said. “I don’t want any tea.”

She folded her arms tightly beneath her br**sts. “Maybe a drink?”

“No.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “You think I’m overreacting, don’t you?”

“I think that, under the circumstances, your reaction is entirely reasonable.”

“Lawson says my jumpiness is a side effect of my post-traumatic stress and my obsession with Scargill.” Ellis scrubbed his face with one hand. “Maybe he knows what he’s talking about. Maybe I have gone around the bend and just don’t realize it.”

“I don’t believe that,” she said quietly. “Not for a moment.”

He lowered his hand and stared hard at her. “How can you be sure?”

She unfolded her arms and moved to stand directly in front of him, inches away. “I’ve walked through your dreams for the past year, Ellis Cutler. I would know if you were dangerously obsessed or deluded. I would also know if you were suffering from post-traumatic stress.”

He exhaled slowly. “Yes. I think you of all people would know the truth about me.”

She smiled slightly. “Want that drink now?”

He shook his head, slowly, deliberately. Then he raised one hand and wrapped it lightly around the nape of her neck.

A rush of heat flashed through her, igniting her nerve endings all the way to her fingertips. She knew that her body’s internal temperature-regulating mechanism had just gone on the fritz, because she was suddenly hot and cold all over.

“I dream about you,” Ellis said. He spoke in the harshest of whispers, producing each word as though it were a chunk of ore that he’d been forced to dig from the farthest reaches of a deep, sunless cavern. “I dream about taking you to bed.”

Her mouth went dry.

“You do?” She had to struggle to get the words out.

He searched her eyes. “I’m scaring you, aren’t I? You’re starting to wonder if maybe Lawson is right about me, after all.”

“You’re not scaring me.”

“Didn’t you just hear what I said? I dream about you. Some folks would call that a sign of an obsessive personality.”

She touched the side of his face. “Studies show that a significant percentage of dreams involve sexual content, and dreams about engaging in sex with strangers are quite common for both men and women.”

“I don’t dream about having sex with strangers. I dream about having sex with you.” His eyes darkened. “And the dreams are all Level Five, extreme and very, very lucid. Do you have any idea how many cold showers I’ve taken in the past year?”

“Oh.” She did not know what else to say. She was dazed and breathless.

His mouth twisted. “Now you’re scared, aren’t you?”

“No. Honest.”

“You probably should be.”

“You don’t scare me, Ellis Cutler.”

“Maybe not. But I think I’m scaring myself. I should go back to the inn.” He took his hand away from her neck and started to turn toward the briefcase.

She was suddenly very cold.