Which also meant he had to figure out a way to avoid the hit. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her move to the sink and wondered how far she’d go. If she’d really eliminate him with something between them. He had no doubt she was ruthless, knew she’d killed before. The job required it. What were her requirements? Did she stop to think about what she did, or had she been trained not to think for herself?

She leaned against the kitchen counter to look out the window. She got up on tiptoes, extending her arms to add a little more height. The simple act was hot as hell. He held on to the side of the chair so as not to get up and go to her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and see if the side of her neck tasted as good as her lips. He wanted to press against her—press inside her—and never let go. The urges she stirred were so goddamn strong he worried if he took advantage once, he’d be a goner for good.

She whipped around with a huge smile on her face and he nearly fell backwards, chair and all, from the sheer thrill he saw in her twinkling eyes. “You’ve got a Ducati?”

“You like motorcycles?” Why was he surprised? He ought to nickname her daredevil after her performance last night.

“Oh my God. I love them.” She twisted for another peek out the window. “And that’s an 848 Superbike, isn’t it?”

Was there anything about her that would make him reconsider she was his perfect match? Fuck. Trouble didn’t begin to describe his ass right now.

“Yes it is.” He got up and joined her at the counter, keeping a good foot between them. He’d taken the bike out of the garage earlier that morning before he’d been derailed by his conversation with Dane.

“Can I take it for a ride?” she asked, like a kid pleading to stay out past curfew.

“We can.”

“Don’t be silly. It’s much better suited for one-up riding. I promise I’ll come back if that’s what you’re worried about. I am on assignment now, which means you’re stuck with me.”

Like he needed the reminder. He should give her the bike and let her ride away. Forget this temporary alliance. But goddamn it, he couldn’t. He couldn’t picture letting her go now that he had her. “Come on. We’ll manage the both of us.”

She bopped up and down, excitement rolling off her. “Okay, fine. But I’m driving.”

“You think I’m letting you drive?”

“You bet you are.” She dazzled him with a smile, and he knew he’d give her anything she asked for. “I need a pair of shoes though. You didn’t—”

“By the front door.”

“Fantastic.” She pushed back up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Let’s do this. And I hope you like speed as much as I do.”

Frozen. He stood frozen to his spot as she strode away. Everything in him, every thought, every belief, churned out of control. The familiarity, the passion, the feel of her lips on his face undid him to the point of no return.

Tess wiggled the nail file in the lock of her bedroom door as quietly as possible. Her heart beat a little faster than normal. She sucked in a deep breath. If she didn’t get the damn door open in the next thirty seconds, she was going to scream.

She stepped back, closed her eyes and relaxed her shoulders. She could do this. It would be a hell of a lot easier if it wasn’t pitch dark in the room, but she couldn’t risk turning on the light. It pissed her off that Hugh still didn’t trust her after working together without incident for the past couple of days.

Not that she really blamed him. But the thought of being stuck in the room one more night made her claustrophobic.

Maybe a nail file wasn’t the tool to do the trick? It didn’t seem to be connecting to the locking mechanism. God, she sucked at this. Good thing burglary wasn’t in her job description. She tiptoed to the small desk and found a pen in the drawer. She pulled it apart so she held the thin ink cartridge topped with a ballpoint head. It slid into the tiny hole of the door handle, and after carefully pressing it just the right way, the door unlocked.

She moved down the hallway with light steps, trying her damndest to keep quiet. When she reached the living room, she sighed with relief. An ambient glow spilled into the room from the dim recessed lighting in the kitchen and she methodically made her way around every piece of furniture in search of anything that might help her learn more about Hugh. With his watchful eyes on her during the day, she’d barely been able to notice the types of magazines on the coffee table.

She’d kept her head down while looking around, but lifting it now to take in the room as a whole, she wondered how on earth she’d missed those. Three pictures in dark wood frames on the fireplace mantle.

The first photograph was of Hugh and another man, their arms around each other’s shoulders and huge grins on their faces. The kind of grin that made her wonder what had made them so happy that day. Her gaze traveled to the next picture, a black and white candid shot so beautiful and personal she sucked in a breath. A man—the same one in the shot with Hugh—had his hand near a woman’s ear, his fingers toying with her long hair. He was staring down at her, she was looking up at him, their faces mere inches from each other. Her palm lay flat on his chest, and Tess could feel the beating of their hearts inside her head. The look of adoration that passed between them was palpable.

She didn’t have to ask Hugh who the couple was. It had to be his brother and his wife. Something fluttered in Tess’s stomach as she wondered what it would be like to love someone that much. Because in looking at the photo, there was no doubt they’d loved with an intensity she never had. A lump lodged in her throat. She swallowed and sidestepped to the last photo.

Her legs almost gave out as she stared at an unguarded Hugh. He sat at a formal table, wearing a tuxedo, his arm bent, a hand covering the smile she knew he wore because his eyes crinkled in the corners. His attention was on his brother and sister-in-law, whose arms were intertwined, champagne flutes in their hands, grins on their faces.

Tess backed away, almost falling over the coffee table. Suddenly, she couldn’t take any more. She didn’t want to know anything more about him. Because big, bad, prideful Hugh had a soft spot whether he admitted it or not. And the very real images he kept a part of his home captured something she hadn’t felt since she was a little girl. Unconditional love.

With super speed, she searched the drawers of the hutch in the dining room, the cupboards in the kitchen, rifled through the stack of Sports Illustrated magazines. She searched the closet by the front door, eyed the hardwood floor for loose floorboards.

All of it though, she did half-ass, since she couldn’t stop thinking about Hugh and how very human he seemed. How connected. To his brother, even though he was gone.

Where’s the damn incriminating evidence? “Not here,” she whispered and padded in her bare feet to the front door. The second she stood outside, she inhaled sharply, the fresh air filling her lungs, loosening the tightness in her chest.

Without thinking, she wandered down the driveway, away from the house, away from Hugh. Chewing her bottom lip, she wrapped her arms around herself. A cool breeze carried the smell of pine trees to her nose. Her footsteps faltered and she stopped. Looked over her shoulder. So many emotions she didn’t know how to process swirled inside her. Was the right thing to do leave? Or stay? She turned her head back around and looked at the empty road in front of her.

Go. She’d walked maybe another hundred feet, though, when something weird circulated in the muscles of her legs—resistance. She stopped again and looked up. Stars dotted the black sky. Jagged branches from gigantic trees slashed through the airspace like claws about to swoop down and pick her up. A chill raced down her spine.