Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [60]
“Men missing so much in our lives.” He exhaled, bending over to snatch a can of spring water tuna from the lower kitchen cabinet. Opening it, he dumped the tuna onto a saucer for the silly feline. “Here. Chow down, pal.”
With the cat happily stuffing his face, Jago considered how to kill the next few minutes. When he’d brought Asha back to the motel, she’d quickly made excuses of wanting to be up early, and ducked into her bungalow.
“Not even a goodnight kiss, Puss. The wench doesn’t trust herself. The woman wants me; she just has this strongly developed flight-or-fight response going. Fine. I let her escape. Run, but you cannot hide, Asha. I only granted you a brief reprieve.”
He’d accepted her brush-off on the surface, come back to his new home-away-from-home to shower and change into something comfortable, before implementing his plan to invade her cozy little bungalow for the night. He was merely waiting now, giving her time enough to go to bed and get drowsy; he had a feeling she’d be easier to handle in that state. Pacing, he ran through different approaches to use on her, trying to tumble to the right one.
He could tell Asha wanted to distance herself after the drive-in—for several reasons, he assumed. One, things had been getting pretty intense between them before Colin knocked on the car window. The other matter troubling her: these damn blackouts. They disturbed him, too. Something was wrong. The second attack had been slightly less frightening than the one at the pool the night before. Nevertheless, she’d scared the bloody hell out of him phasing out like that. Her skin grew clammy and she lacked any response to touch or voice. Her beautiful eyes turned to doll eyes. He couldn’t recall his heart ever beating with that sort of fear—at least not since he’d been a small kid and his mother was in one of her black moods. That had been a child’s alarm. This was a man terrified, powerless to aid the woman who was coming to mean so much to him.
“Men don’t deal well with helplessness, Puss. Makes us cranky. Give us something to pound with a hammer, slice in two with a sword or screw down with a Phillips and we’re in our element.”
The cat looked up from his Charlie the Tuna meal and yawned. When Jago didn’t have anything else to say, he went back to scarfing down the fish.
“Great. I’m boring the mouse mangler. Well, I can’t take any more waiting and talking to you like a blethering eegit, so I am off to play guardian. Enjoy yourself, Cat-With-No-Name. Feel free to make use of the bed.”
He turned off the lights, except the nightlight in the kitchen, and then let himself out. As he was pulling the sliding patio door shut, Fat-fat-the-Kitty-Cat came barreling out, determined not to be left behind—so determined that he nearly knocked Jago’s legs out from under him. Shaking his head, Jago locked the door and walked the few steps down the stone walkway to Asha’s cabin.
As he knocked on the door, he was buffeted by the winds. They whipped the trees, sending more leaves to fall, and warning that another storm was headed their way. The cat leaned against his legs for shelter. When there was no answer, Jago rapped again, a little more insistently. This time the light flicked on in the living room, and he could see the shadow of Asha coming to the door. Glaring at him with a sleepy frown, she pulled the edge of the drapes back.
She wore a thin silk wrapper, of an iridescent shade like pearl. A very sensual gown. Unbelted, it gaped open to reveal matching silk boxer shorts and a plain white, muscle T-shirt underneath. He about swallowed his tongue. With the thin cotton clinging to her breasts, the dark circles of her areolas visible through the semi-sheer material—the sleepwear was an odd combination of pure sex and a touch of innocence that was a punch to his gut. He tried desperately to remember why he’d come.
“Let me in,” he said, not quite a command, but close enough. Her eyes traveled to his bare chest, then down to the cat he was wearing as an anklet. “Okay, let us in.”
That brought a reluctant smile to her