Everlasting - Iris Johansen [4]
Had Damon, living in a world of two cultures, felt that same conflict? If he had, he obviously had resolved the conflict. There had been nothing discouraged or bewildered about the man who had stepped out of that Rolls tonight. He was the most confident and aware man she had ever seen. She sighed. The mystery of Zack Damon couldn't be solved by studying this painting. She felt a twinge of disappointment as she sat back down on the couch and curled up in the corner. She had always found that understanding made even the most intimidating people more approachable, but there was no reflection of any human foibles in Damon's surroundings. The room was as much of an enigma as the man himself. She would just have to wait until Damon himself appeared on the scene and then play it by instinct alone.
She wearily rubbed the tense muscles in the back of her neck. She had been traveling constantly and sleeping very little during the last few days. Her vitality was usually so great that flying didn't faze her. It was only because her nerves had been stretched to the breaking point that she had been unable to overcome jet lag. Her nerves were still taut and she was growing more hyper with every passing moment. She had to try to relax or she would be in no condition to face Damon when he finally arrived. She closed her eyes and forced herself to take deep, steady breaths. There, that was better. She could feel the slightest ebbing of tension. If she could keep it up, perhaps she would be relaxed and refreshed when the time came to face Zack Damon.
Kira was asleep. Of all the states in which he had imagined he might encounter her, sleeping wasn't one. She was curled up, her head pillowed on the arm of the couch, her hair splayed in a fiery mass against the beige velvet of the cushions.
He stood looking down at her and felt an odd tightness in his throat. She seemed infinitely small and vulnerable at this moment. When she was awake she exuded a vitality and vivaciousness that was incandescent, making her appear larger, stronger. But now her lips were pink and crumpled looking, their look of sensitivity enhanced by being slightly parted. Her nose was small, her cheekbones high; her triangular face was more fascinating than pretty. When she was awake her features were mobile and constantly alight with laughter and joie de vivre, but now sleep revealed a curious helplessness about her. He'd better enjoy that helplessness while he could, he thought, amused. When she lifted those long lashes, her sapphire eyes would hold challenge, not vulnerability, and her boneless grace would be transformed into a soft curvaceousness that could raise a response in a man to rival the heat of an Arizona summer.
He would not wake her. There was no hurry. He felt a deep contentment at the sight of her, relaxed and abandoned in this room, in his home. He moved swiftly to the easy chair across from the couch and sat down. He had no need to draw control and patience to him now. She was here. He would sit and watch her while she slept. His waiting game was almost at an end.
TWO
HOW COULD SHE have believed that his dark eyes were enigmatic? Kira wondered. They were gentle and wise and so deep that she felt lost in them. No, not lost. He would never let her be lost. He knew exactly where he was and his place in the scheme of things. If she clung to him tightly, she could never be lost again. He had a beautiful mouth too. She hadn't noticed how well shaped it was when she had first seen him.
The faintest smile curved those lips. “Good evening, or perhaps I should say good morning? It's almost three o'clock, you know.”
She looked around for a clock and was immediately struck by the strangeness of her surroundings. Oh, Lord! She bolted upright, swinging her legs to the floor. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go to sleep.” She brushed unruly curls away from her cheeks, saying impulsively, “I haven't had much rest in the last few days and…” She drew a deep