Night Game (GhostWalkers #3)(27)
Author: Christine Feehan

“You could be wrong, you know,” Gator pointed out. “You might consider that.”

“You might consider that Lily wasn’t the only one of us with an enormous IQ. If

I’m wrong, why do we have this thing between us?” She stuck her chin in the air and fiddled with the edges of her scarf, but her gaze was steady on his, almost a challenge.

“Which thing? The knife? The bike? The baby? Or the sexual attraction that, quite frankly, might be off the Richter scale?”

“The sexual attraction. That’s what’s really making you so angry, isn’t it? You don’t trust it any more than I do. And you’re angry with me for making you feel the way you do.”

“Yeah. Maybe. But I’m not the only one royally pissed about it,” he pointed out.

“You’re right, I don’t like it. I don’t trust you. Why the hell would I feel attracted to you?”

“My charm and good looks.”

“You aren’t that charming. And you have the despicable reputation of being a hound dog. I know because I asked around and your grandmother told me.”

“No doubt to endear me further to you.”

She narrowed her gaze. “You’re a breaker of hearts. A rake and a playboy.” She made a face. “A disgusting playboy who isn’t even concerned with safety issues.”

“Grand-mere didn’t say that, did she?”

She smirked at him. “Well, you got me pregnant, didn’t you?”

A faint smile stole over his face. “I guess I did. I’m potent. Even from a distance.”

“That’s a scary thought. Do you really know Joy Chiasson?”

“Yes. You can ask Grand-mere Nonny all about her tomorrow when you show up for tea. Our families have been friends for years.”

Flame spread her hands out. “So what are we doing out here in the middle of the night?”

“We’re talking truce, cher.” His slow smile matched the warm molasses in his drawl.

“Don’t you think before we talk truce it would be a gesture of good faith to give me back my motorcycle?”

“Have you shoved my brother’s Jeep into the Mississippi yet?”

“That was on the schedule for tonight.”

“It’s my brother’s Jeep,” he reminded her, fingertips tracing the smudges on her throat. “Not mine. I just borrowed it.”

“Bad decision on his part to lend it to you.”

His eyes darkened as his gaze drifted over her throat. “I’m sorry about this, cher. I could kiss it better for you.”

She remained absolutely still beneath his touch, her heart beginning to hammer in time to the blood roaring through her veins. The heat of the bayou enveloped them in the perfume of the night and the rich rhythm of life. “You aren’t going to seduce me into cooperating with you and, if you try, the Jeep definitely goes into the Mississippi.”

“It was a bad decision on his part to lend it to me.” Gator murmured the words against her soft throat, his body pressed against hers, although he didn’t wrap his arms around her. He simply stood leaning into her, the warmth of his breath touching her skin.

She swallowed hard when his lips pressed against her throat, feather-light, velvet soft. “So you’re willing to sacrifice the Jeep.”

“Damn straight, mon petite enflamme. No sacrifice is too great.” His tongue swirled over the dark smudges as if to soothe them.

Her breath left her body in a little concentrated rush. “Well then, you’d better do a very thorough job.”

He lifted his head, his gaze sweeping over her face. “When I kiss you, what exactly are you planning to do?” Raw huskiness mixed with suspicion in his voice.

She could barely breathe. She had an unfamiliar urge to circle his neck with her arms and press her body tightly against his. “You said no sacrifice was too great,” she reminded.

“That’s when I thought the sacrifice was going to be my brother’s Jeep. Now, I think you have something else in mind. What are you planning to do?”

“Retrieve my knife, of course,” she answered honestly.

His head bent an inch lower until she could feel the velvet of his lips brushing hers. “You don’t think I can distract you?”

“You’ve been distracting me all evening, but no, if you kiss me, the knife is definitely back in my possession.”

He ached to kiss her. The temptation was overwhelming, but he wasn’t nearly as stupid as she thought him. Reluctantly he stepped back away from her, a faint smile on his face. “Cher, we’ve got us a problem.”

Her gaze brushed the front of his jeans. “You more than me.”

His eyes darkened. “Oh, I don’ think so, mon amour, and if you want me to prove it to you, just come closer and let me touch you.”

“Try it and I’ll definitely slap your face.”

His grin widened. “You are wet for me, aren’t you, cher?”

She ran her tongue along her lower lip, her gaze hot. “More than you’ll ever know. Too bad you’re such a chicken.”

“You’re playing a very dangerous game, Flame,” he said.

“You’re the one with my knife and motorcycle.”

“That’s not why. You think this is all part of another experiment, don’t you?”

“Isn’t it?” She moved into the heat of his body, her h*ps pressed close. “When you’re with other women, is it this intense? Do the women you meet make you feel like tearing off their clothes right there, right that moment, and the hell with everything you’ve ever believed and valued?”

“If you know I feel that way, why the hell are you tempting me out here in the middle of nowhere when we’re alone? What you did in that club was wrong and what you’re doing to me right now is wrong and with another man, you could be in trouble.” Something dark and burned briefly in the shadows of his eyes and gone almost immediately.

Flame shook her head, her expression defeated. “That’s just it, Raoul, I’m not the one doing it. You are. We are. Don’t you get it?” She pushed a hand through her hair, scattering pins so that strands of red hair fell in all directions. “You do get it. You knew what I was thinking, because you were thinking the same thing. It’s all part of Whitney’s experiments. Take me back. It’s been a long day and I want to go home.”

She did look tired. And sad. And very alone. Gator turned her accusations over and over in his mind. “It would be impossible to manipulate the sexual chemistry between two people wouldn’t it?”