Quinn - Iris Johansen [79]
“No, this wasn’t how I intended it to be.” He said softly, “I’m enjoying it because you’re beautiful and strong and honest, and I don’t believe I’d ever tire of looking at you.”
She glanced back at him and wished she hadn’t.
Spellbinder. That was what Catherine had thought when she had been going over Gallo’s dossier and trying to learn him. Lying there in the firelight, he was completely sensual. Flat stomach, muscular thighs, and broad shoulders, his intent dark eyes and full lips that held the faintest smile. Everything about Gallo was male, sensual … sexual.
And she could feel the beginning of her response to that sexuality. The heat that was moving through her veins, that tautness of her breasts, the pounding of her heart.
“Close your eyes.” His voice was suddenly hoarse. “Don’t look at me.”
Her lids snapped shut. He had noticed, dammit. He was aware of her vulnerability and his effect on her. How could he help it? The emotion was vibrating like raw electricity between them. She had to confront it and bring it down. “It doesn’t mean anything, Gallo. I won’t let it mean anything.”
“Then keep your eyes closed.” She heard him moving. “And I believe I’ll forgo my pleasure in looking at you for a while. I live in the moment, but you don’t. I may not be around to experience regrets, but I hope you will.”
“All this sob-story stuff you’re putting out is getting redundant.” She opened her eyes to see him lying with his back to her. “I don’t know if I should believe you.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t. Call Eve and tell her to get Quinn out here. Then you can bow out.”
“Shut up. I’ll do what I please.”
But what would please her right now had nothing to do with her mission. What was happening between them? A good deal of it had to be because of the weeks they’d spent in these woods on the hunt, getting to know each other in the most intimate and dramatic way possible. Life and death and the hunt. It had dominated both of their minds and bodies. Even after the scenario had changed, it was still present, charging every word, ever look with urgency.
But there was suddenly more, and the hunt had taken on the most basic and earthy of meanings.
Eve had said Gallo had killed her child. How could Catherine feel anything for him but horror? Yes, he had been suffering from a mental breakdown. Yes, he was suffering enough now to want to end his life. But that did not stop the horror. All Catherine’s life, she had relied upon her instincts. How could they have failed her in this crucial moment? She could not respect herself if her mind and emotions were being subjugated by Gallo. She was either completely overwhelmed by Gallo and her own desires and unable to separate those instincts from the truth, or there was something terribly wrong.
And at the moment she couldn’t sort anything out. Too much had happened. Too much was hovering on the horizon. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the makeshift pillow. She would sleep, and tomorrow she would start to deal with it.
Even though her eyes were closed, she still felt as if she could see Gallo, feel him, sense his every movement.
Spellbinder …
CHAPTER
12
“I’LL LET YOU GO INTO THE lake without the rope, but I’ll be here with the dart gun. Start to swim away, and you’ll take another nap,” Gallo said. “And I haven’t figured any way to save your modesty. I accept suggestions.”
“Don’t be absurd.” She started to take off her shirt. “Do you think I haven’t bathed naked with men before? I’m CIA. I spent years in the jungles of South America.”
“Pardon me.” He settled himself on the bank. “And it never presented problems?”
“I didn’t say that.” She took off her boots. “But the problems never occurred more than once.” She shed the rest of her clothes and waded into the water. “Pitch me that green bottle in my knapsack.”
“What is it?” He picked up the small bottle and lifted it to his nose. “It smells like rotten leaves.”
“Soap.” She looked at him as she reached water deep enough