Hotter After Midnight (Midnight #1)(13)
Author: Cynthia Eden

“Yeah, we can.” His fingers lifted, brushed back a lock of her hair. He didn’t care about the dumb-ass rule of mixing business and pleasure. So they were working together on the case. Big damn deal. Just made it easier for him to see her.

Emily stiffened.

“So tell me, Doc, what am I thinking now?” His voice was a whisper and his stare dropped to her shirtfront. Her ni**les were pushing against the fabric. He wanted them in his mouth.

“I-I don’t know.” Her hands were tight fists in her lap. “I tried to tell you earlier, I don’t usually jump in someone’s head without permission.”

Ah, so the lady had a no-peeking policy, huh? Some of the tension within him began to ease, and with an effort, he managed to lift his gaze back to her face. “You’re telling me you’ve never used your gift on me?” That would make things so much easier.

Emily looked away.

Ah, shit. “Doc?”

“Once, okay?” Her head snapped toward him and her green eyes glittered. “When you came to my house that night. But it wasn’t deliberate. You were projecting, blasting me with your memories. I jerked up my shields as soon as I could.”

Blasting me with your memories. “What memories?” His back teeth clenched as he gritted, “Just what did you see?”

For a moment, she was silent. Then, “You. You were shot, bleeding.”

His right shoulder ached at the memory of the pain. “What else?” Cause he knew there was something else. The doc still wasn’t looking him in the eyes.

“A fire.”

He tensed. “What about the fire?”

“Look, I just saw a house on fire, okay? You were there, looking up at this big, white house that was being eaten by flames.”

The flames had burned so brightly that night. Orange flames. Hotter than hell. And so hungry. They’d destroyed the house and everything inside.

“You don’t have to worry,” Emily muttered, pushing back her glasses. “I’m not going to deliberately look into your head.”

Well, that was reassuring. But…“Why not, Doc? Did you try that before on someone and find out more than you bargained for?”

Had she probed a lover’s mind only to discover the man wasn’t as she’d thought?

“You could say that.” Her lips turned down. “The guy nearly put me in a coma.”

What?

“I was eighteen, hanging in the wrong place with the wrong guy. I thought I knew him, that I could trust him. So I lowered my guard, and I found out that I’d been dead wrong about him from the beginning.” She exhaled. “After that, I decided it’d be a hell of a lot safer for me to make absolutely certain that my shields were in place. I probe the thoughts of my patients—and only my patients.”

When he opened his mouth to question her, she said, “They give me their permission. I never touch thoughts without permission.”

Her mouth tightened and she said, “Unless somebody’s projecting so loudly I can’t shut them out.”

Like he’d been doing. He huffed out a hard breath. Good thing there weren’t any other folks like the doc running around Atlanta.

Otherwise, he’d be screwed.

“And I never lower my shields all the way,” Emily spoke again, her voice softer now. “I always keep some protection in place.”

Colin grunted and cranked the Jeep. He wanted to ask Emily more about the coma, ask her about the guy who’d nearly put her under, but he figured he’d pushed enough for one day.

Besides, he needed to get her to the station. They needed to talk to Smith, needed to find out if the ME had gotten any more information for them.

After they talked to Smith, he’d drop the doc off at her place. Then he’d go meet the cameraman. And he’d find out exactly what Jake Donnelley knew about his case.

“Uh, aren’t you forgetting something?”

He glanced at her. Found her eyes narrowed on him. “What?”

Her lips thinned. “An apology.”

“Ah, Doc, you don’t have to apologize to me. I understand now.” She wasn’t jumping in his brain. As far as he could tell, she still didn’t know the full truth about him, and that was very good news. “Just stay out of my head, and we’ll get along just fine.” More than fine if he had his way. In fact, they’d be—

The doc growled. Actually growled. Oh, he liked that. The beast within emitted a hungry growl of its own.

“I’m not talking about me giving you an apology,” she snapped. “I meant you owe me an apology.”

“What would I owe you an apology for?” He hadn’t jumped in her head.

“I don’t remember asking you to—to—” The doc broke off, flushing.

And the light dawned. He hadn’t jumped into her head, but he’d jumped her.

“I told you before, Gyth.” That pointed chin lifted and she stared straight at him, even as a blush stained her cheeks. “If I want you to kiss me, I’ll ask.”

Ah, yes, the doc wasn’t a fan of— what had she called it?— the He-man routine. Well, if the lady wanted an apology…“Sorry, Doc, guess my basic nature just got the best of me.” His basic nature, his anger, and the hard lust he seemed to feel every time he got near her.

“Yes, well, shifters are reputed to be highly volatile and, umm—”

“Sexual?”

She blinked.

“Yeah, we are.” Unfortunately, most shifters tended to be male, so it wasn’t like there were a ton of like-minded women strolling the streets.

But when he’d held the doc, for a bit there, “It seemed like your basic nature took control, too, huh?” She’d been kissing him back, rubbing that sweet little pink tongue of hers against his, pushing her body against him, clutching him tightly with her hands.

“Maybe it did,” Emily said softly, and his respect for her shot up. A woman who could admit her need—just what he wanted.

He wished they didn’t have to go back to the station. Wished they could just keep driving, preferably back to his place so that he could find out more about Emily’s needs.

Even though he could still taste her, he knew his lust would have to wait.

The case came first. It had to. But once the killer was caught, oh yeah, once the killer was tossed in a dark cell to never see the light of day again, then he could focus completely on Emily.

In the meantime, he’d keep mixing his business and pleasure every damn chance he got.