Chapter 6

Laura opened her mouth to reveal the truth to Kresley about her plan to escape the island, when unease prickled along her nerve endings. The shadows have ears. The warning rang in her head, and she wasn’t about to ignore it, not when a lifetime of living had proven her senses were rarely wrong. She considered her options. She could turn the sound up on the television, and they could climb under the blankets and cover their heads. That should muffle their voices.

“Laura!”

Kresley’s panicked reaction drew Laura from her internal debate. She was about to reach for the remote when a knock sounded on the front door. Her gut clenched uncontrollably, the knock thundering at her as if it held an urgent warning: Stay silent.

Laura inhaled and narrowed her gaze on Kresley. “You expecting someone?”

Kresley shook her head. “Everyone knows this is our night.” Laura started to get up and Kresley grabbed her hand. “I want to know what you were about to tell me.”

Laura grappled with her thoughts, chasing down an answer Kresley would accept. “I simply wanted to ask a question.”

Kresley frowned. “A question?” she asked, her expression saying she didn’t quite buy that explanation.

Another knock sounded, more urgent this time. Maybe someone was sick. “I better get that.” Laura squeezed Kresley’s hand and stood up. “I’ll be right back,” she promised, and turned away.

Walking toward the other room, her hand kneaded the tension suddenly building at the back of her neck. She had spent a lifetime hiding her secrets, a lifetime with that burden. She was so damn tired of secrets and lies, yet they would always be a part of her world. She and her patients would escape this island, but she’d never escape the lies.

She reached the door the moment the knocking began again and pulled it open, half-expecting another sick patient on the other side. But it wasn’t a patient. In stunned disbelief, she found Rinehart standing before her. He wore well-pressed jeans and a crisp button-down white shirt, his rugged good looks screaming Texas cowboy.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, unsettled by his presence, but more so by her own reaction.

A smile played on those sensual lips she somehow kept noticing. “Picking you up for dinner.”

She blinked. “What?” The man was bold if nothing else. “I never agreed to dinner, and this isn’t even my apartment.” Laura stiffened, suspicion seeping into her mind as surely as his woodsy, fresh scent did into her senses. Was he trying to question Kresley without her being present? “How did you find me?”

“Your Friday pizza nights are legend around here,” he said. His blue eyes were unnervingly hypnotic as they met hers. “It didn’t take much to get pointed in the right direction.”

Laura took in that answer and decided she believed him. That didn’t mean she was going to dinner with him. “If that’s so, then you know I have plans tonight. I never agreed to dinner for a reason.”

“Because of your dinner with Kresley?”

He was trying to put her on the spot. “One of many reasons,” she agreed, making it clear she wouldn’t be easily cornered.

The instant glint in his eye said he wanted to press more, but decided against it. “Have Kresley join us.” His voice lowered to that intimate, sexy tone he’d used earlier in the lab. “But I’d also enjoy stealing you away afterward for dessert.”

His suggestion took her off guard. Her breath lodged in her throat, and her chest tightened with unexplainable emotion. He was playing on the importance Kresley held in her life, and she knew it; but still it got to her, calling out to her on some level she couldn’t quite identify. She had to remind herself the man was an incorrigible flirt who wanted her just for her research, who was manipulating her. She shouldn’t have to struggle to remember this, not when she had such sensitivity to people. But the heat he generated in her appeared to suppress her ability to read the underlying malice that his involvement with Walch suggested.

Stiffening her spine, she reminded herself of why she couldn’t do something stupid and actually say yes to dinner. “Kresley’s running a fever,” she stated flatly. “I don’t want to leave her.”

His brows dipped, the playful jesting of moments before gone. “How seriously ill is she?”

Laura responded with careful consideration. Overreaction would look suspicious. “Right now, it amounts to flulike symptoms.”

Concern etched his handsome features. “Are you still thinking the illness could be a reaction to her treatments?”

He seemed so sincerely worried about Kresley’s well-being. But of course he was worried, she thought. Sick patients put his research on hold, which was what she wanted. So why did she feel guilty lying to him?

She cut her gaze from his, uncomfortable looking into Rinehart’s eyes as she twisted the truth. “I can’t rule out that possibility.” She was doing nothing wrong, she reasoned silently. Her father had long ago taught her that lies were a necessary, though distasteful, part of protecting the innocent from power-hungry people. Laura snapped her eyes back to Rinehart’s face. “Unfortunately, the blood work I drew this afternoon indicated that the entire test group is getting sick. Kresley is simply the only one symptomatic.”

He studied her for several seconds that felt more like a lifetime.

“Well,” he said. “Until you know, we will, of course, put our work on hold.”

Laura frowned, confused by his response. He’d been distracted in the lab when she’d first announced her concerns, so his lack of concern earlier about the delay hadn’t seemed odd. But that wasn’t the case now. He was focused, lucid, but he wasn’t displaying the expected frustration. It made no sense.

“Thank you,” she finally said. “I worry about these kids. They are family to me, my kids. I don’t want them hurt.”

He chuckled at that, a low rumble that danced along her nerve endings with stimulating effects. A sensual sound that sent goose bumps up her spine and told her she was in deep trouble. Something about this man had taken her sensitivity levels and pushed them over the edge. “Your kids,” he said, a smile lighting his eyes. “By my best judgment, you’ve barely got ten years on the oldest in the bunch. I’d guess you’re thirty-five at the most and only because you’d have to be at least that old to do all that you’ve done.”

“Thirty-four, and didn’t my file tell you all of that?”

“I’d rather you tell me,” he countered, not bothering to deny he’d seen her file. If he had tried to say he hadn’t, she would have slammed the door in his face for taking her for a fool.

Instead, she stood there, chin tilted upward to look into those brilliant blue eyes so alight with interest, so full of simmering heat. There was no question he desired her, and no question that desire went beyond manipulative reasons. Genuine attraction danced between them. She wanted him. What was it about this man that appealed to her? But he wasn’t just a man, she reminded herself. He was with Walch; he was the enemy.

“Invite me in, Laura,” he urged softly.

“Yes. Invite him in.” This time the words came from behind her, from Kresley.

Laura glanced over her shoulder to see her standing in the hallway, shivering inside the fluffy, pink robe Laura had bought her for Christmas just months before. “You should be in bed.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted.

“You’re not fine,” Laura argued, shaking her head as she turned back to Rinehart. “I need to attend to Kresley.”

“He can come in,” Kresley stubbornly inserted in a voice meant to be heard.

Rinehart’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “The young lady wants you to invite me in.”

Laura pursed her lips. “You could get sick.”

“I know a good doctor.”

God, the man was impossible to dismiss, as was the sexy little dimple in his right cheek. “You’re devious,” she accused, a second before she eased back to let him through the door.

He stepped forward and paused when he was directly beside her, his shoulder brushing hers and sending electricity darting through her body. His head tilted downward, close, and his cologne nipped at her senses with dangerously hot results. “And I do believe you like it,” he accused in a velvety smooth whisper meant for her ears only. He didn’t wait for a reply, sauntering farther into the apartment and claiming a seat on the couch directly in front of the wingback chair Kresley had just chosen.

Rinehart spoke to Kresley as Laura sat on the opposite side of the couch. “You’re pretty sick, I hear,” he commented.

Kresley nodded and curled her legs in the oversize chair she’d claimed. “I pretty much feel like death warmed over.”

Rinehart chuckled. “That sounds serious.”

“Which is why I can’t go to dinner,” Laura replied.

Kresley frowned. “I don’t need a babysitter. It’s the flu. I’ll live. Unless there’s something both of you know that I don’t.”

Laura grimaced. “There’s nothing you don’t know. I’ve told you that.” She glanced at Rinehart. “Kresley has it in her mind that she’s sicker than I’m telling her she is.”

“Really?” he inquired. “Why is that?” he asked Kresley.

“You’re here,” she said. “You and all those other men.” Abruptly, Kresley sat up, her hands digging into the cloth sides of the chair.

“I’m sick. I never get sick. And Laura has never needed help with our treatments, but all of a sudden she does.”

Laura’s chest tightened with emotion as she pushed to her feet. She’d intended to talk to Kresley in private, not sure she could possibly feel any guiltier than she felt in that moment. Despite the warning in her head, it was time to tell Kresley the truth. Soon. The minute she could find privacy.

But before Laura could decide how to respond at present, Rinehart interjected. “l didn’t come to the island because you’re sick, Kresley. Quite the opposite. I came because Laura’s work is such a success. I’m hoping I can learn something from her. Hoping to bring good luck along with me.” He looked dubious. “So far it looks like I didn’t do so well. You’re sick and worried.”

Kresley blushed. “No. I didn’t mean to blame you.” The tension in her body eased ever so slightly. “I guess I’m just not used to having other people around.”

“You’re worried for nothing,” Laura added, her hands going to her hips, amazed at just how smoothly Rinehart had handled Kresley. But she was also hurt that Kresley had doubted her enough to ask Rinehart for answers instead of her. “You should know I’d tell you if something was wrong.”

Kresley smirked at that. “You’re protective. You wouldn’t tell me what was wrong until you’d ruled out making it right first. I know you, Laura.”

Laura let out a frustrated breath. Guilty as charged. What could she say? Wasn’t that what she was doing about escaping the island? “Well. I’m not doing that now.”

“So you admit you’re protective,” Kresley said, a teasing glint in her bloodshot eyes. She really needed to rest.

“Yes, I admit it,” Laura said. “Which is why I say you need to go to bed.”

“Only if you let Rinehart take you to dinner. I heard him ask you, and I won’t be responsible for starving you.” Kresley glanced at Rinehart. “Her stomach was growling right before you got here.”

Rinehart cast her a sexy half smile. “Is that right?” he asked. “Sounds like dinner might be a critical mission.”

“I’ll survive,” Laura snapped back, arms folding in front of her again. Good grief, Kresley was working against her with Rinehart, perhaps bitten by the matchmaker bug. They definitely needed to have a talk about why he was trouble.

Kresley acted as if she hadn’t heard Laura decline, her attention still locked on Rinehart. “Oh my God,” she proclaimed. “Now I know you’re military. You called dinner a ‘mission.’”

Rinehart leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “My father was army, and I did a short stint in the army and the FBI. But that was a long time ago.”

“Laura’s father was a ranger,” Kresley pointed out.

Laura barely heard the words, her attention suddenly snagged by Rinehart’s hands—hands both strong and gentle. Hands she sensed had touched danger and death, hands that possessed the ability to kill. But she also felt the honor behind his actions, felt his desire to protect innocents. Not so unlike the way she tried to protect her patients.

“Laura?” She blinked at the sound of Rinehart’s voice, bringing his features into focus, uncomfortably aware that she was staring at him, her eyes now locked on his face. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Ah, yes,” she lied, her voice creaking out. Finally, she’d sensed something other than her own hormonal overload where Rinehart was concerned, but she was more confused than ever. If her senses were right, and they usually were, he was nothing she’d assumed him to be. Delicately, she cleared her throat and added, “Sorry. I started thinking about my research.” She laughed nervously, fingers touching her forehead for a moment. “My mind went elsewhere.” Trying to regain her composure, Laura fixed Kresley in a warning look. “You need to go to bed,” she said firmly before refocusing on Rinehart. “And no, I am not going to dinner. I won’t leave her alone.”

“I can pick up something for us,” Rinehart offered.

The man wouldn’t give up. “The mess hall is closed, and everything else is too far away.”

“You can make our pizza,” Kresley suggested, and pushed to her feet.

Now Laura knew Kresley was matchmaking. She had never allowed anyone near their pizza. “I thought that was our special dinner.”

“It is,” Kresley agreed, “but it’s going to waste anyway because I am too sick to eat.”

“Am I such bad company that you can’t share a pizza with me?” Rinehart asked, his voice demanding her attention.

Laura’s stomach fluttered as she met his stare. No man had ever given her this fluttery feeling in her stomach. Normally, she was too edgy and on guard to feel anything but stressed. Working for Walch, Rinehart should be outside the walls she had long ago erected. But he’d gotten inside them and reached places others couldn’t find. And suddenly, she had to know why.

“Pizza it is, then,” Laura said, and for the first time since meeting Rinehart, a genuine smiled touched her lips.

Kresley pushed to her feet and grinned, satisfaction twinkling in her eyes. “Now I’ll go to bed.” She didn’t wait for a reply, darting away with far too much agility for someone so sick, the bedroom door shutting with a resounding thud, meant, no doubt, to tell them they were alone.

Laura and Rinehart stood there facing each other, their eyes locking, neither moving, neither speaking. The temperature in the room spiked; the intense attraction they shared blossomed with each passing second. She’d never experienced anything like this, never had a man get past her fear of being exposed. How ironic that this man could—a man who was so close to those she considered dangerous. That he could reach beyond the emotions that kept her shielded and even create excitement inside her.

“I’m glad you changed your mind,” Rinehart finally said, breaking the silence that should have been awkward, but somehow wasn’t.

So am I, she realized. But she knew better than to let down her guard. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Those blue eyes darkened, the message in them darkly sensual. “Regret is the last thing I intend to make you feel.”

Her pulse leapt with the question he invited and knew she wouldn’t dare ask. If not regret, then what exactly did he intend to make her feel? And why was he so sure she would let him? And why did the idea of finding out thrill her to the core?