Trace of Fever - Lori Foster [62]
Matt’s emphasis meant that Priss didn’t trust him—not that Trace needed a reminder of that.
Chris walked out with Matt, and Molly again tried to get Priss to eat.
“Why is everyone playing my nursemaid? It’s not like I’m emaciated or fainting from hunger.” She refused the food. “Thanks anyway, Molly, but I’m not going to starve.”
Annoyed, Trace stalked off.
Priss turned on her seat. “Where are you going?” And then with a touch of alarm, “Are you leaving without me?”
He stopped, flexed his hands a few times, and pivoted to pace right back to her. “I would not leave you here.”
“No?” She cleared her throat and asked hopefully, “Would you drug me again?”
His teeth ground together in frustration, but he didn’t lie. “If necessary.”
All reserve vanished and Priss threw up her hands. “Jerk!”
Trace touched her jaw, but she leaned away. “I’m going out to get Liger’s belongings. Soon as that’s done, we’ll leave.” He hesitated, left eye flinching, then bent to her mouth again. He kissed her before she even realized what he would do, but no way in hell did he want Matt’s kiss to remain fresh. “Together.”
For only a moment, Priss looked dazed, then she gave an embarrassed glance at Dare and Molly. After regaining her aplomb, she leaned her elbows back on the bar and shrugged. “I’ll be right here, waiting for you. Not like I have much else to do.”
“Be good, Priss.”
She went hoity. “Meaning you don’t want me grilling anyone?”
“Exactly.” And before he wasted more time bantering with her, he exited the room. He’d be busy much of the night with Murray, but the next day…maybe the next day he’d have to advance things a bit. Until he got Priss out of his system, he knew he wouldn’t be one hundred percent. Yet to deal with Murray, he’d need all his wits, and then some.
PRISS WAVED AFTER TRACE’S fast-retreating back, then swiveled around to Molly. “Good riddance. Can you believe his nerve? The man slips a Mickey into my drink and then expects me to just act like it didn’t happen.”
“That would be my cue.” With a nod at the ladies, Dare went off after Trace.
Molly surprised Priss by chuckling. She lifted her cola in a toast. “You have Trace befuddled, I’ll say that. When I first met him, he was so cool and detached, it kind of freaked me out.”
Despite Trace’s succinct warning, Priss wasn’t one to miss an opportunity for info. “Yeah, when was that exactly?”
Molly didn’t take the bait. She sipped her cola before setting aside the can. “He’s warmed up some, but he takes his self-assigned responsibilities very seriously, which means he’s usually a real somber guy. It’s kind of nice to see him chasing his own tail for once.”
Trying for subtlety, Priss asked, “Self-assigned responsibilities?”
Molly laughed. “Did I tell you what actor was chosen to play my lead male protagonist in the movie?”
The change of topic threw Priss enough that she asked the appropriate questions and got engaged in Molly’s explanations, and before she knew it, Trace, Dare and Chris all returned.
As they strode into the kitchen, each of them tall, well built and strong, oozing capability in various degrees, Priss couldn’t help but admire them. “Studs galore.”
Molly choked on another laugh. “Yup.”
With the guys close enough to hear, she asked Molly, “Do they run in packs? Like wolves, I mean.”
Easily amused, Molly played along. “They must. Wait until you see Jackson. He fits right in.” She blew a kiss to her husband when he gave her a dark look. “A regular Romeo, that one.”
Chris snorted. “Not according to Alani.”
Hearing a new name, Priss asked, “Who’s Alani?”
And everyone clammed up. An almost depressed air settled over the previous camaraderie. She frowned, wondering about the mysterious Alani and the esteemed Jackson.
“Sorry,” Chris said softly, speaking to the room at large. And without missing a beat, he added, “I’m going to take very good care of your cat, Priss, don’t worry. For the time being, he’ll stay at my place at night to keep Dare’s girls from sticking their noses into