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he said, with a final press of the tape on the back of her hand. Though he laid the tape and scissors on the open first aid kit, he didn’t let go of her hand. When he turned back to her, she focused on his eyes, the strange blue-green that seemed to defy category. At the moment, they were almost completely green, like a dark jungle. “When you do a reading,” he said lowly, looking at her hand, “is it just your palm and the underside of your fingers that are sensitive and not the back of your hand?”
    No one had ever asked her that. She smiled.
    “Yes,” she said. “Why do you ask?”
    He shrugged a little.
    “No reason.”
    He looked as though he were going to say something and, for some reason she couldn’t put her finger on, Isabelle held her breath.
    Something is going on behind those eyes.
    But then, without another word, Mac reached down and grasped her other hand as well. He was still wearing the latex gloves but the unexpected movement had surprised her. Though a moment recovering, as Mac slowly but steadily lifted her hand, Isabelle finally realized what he was doing. She could only stare as he softly pressed his lips to the back of it.
    Her heart leapt into her throat.
    “Your skin is so soft,” he whispered.
    His warm, moist breath was like silk. Whether it was the burn on the other hand, or the way he’d caught her off guard, or the fact that this skin was almost never exposed she didn’t know, but it was incredibly sensitive. A tension that started in her toes raced up her core as Mac’s lips languidly grazed her. They skipped along the tops of her fingers, tingling, almost ticklish. She fought the urge to grip his hand as he took his time, his mouth exploring the dips between the knuckles, his lips caressing each peak in turn. A tremble fluttered in her stomach, her heart beat faster, and she drew in a long and shaky breath.
    No one had ever touched her like this–as though her hands were always off-limits.  
    But this was Mac.
    He slid his lips, with small gnawing movements, down the back of her hand. At her wrist, he reversed directions. Her heart was hammering now. The sensation on her skin somewhere between buzzing and burning. She had to shut her eyes, unable to watch. But just the feel of his lush lips pressing against her was almost as overwhelming. Again and again, his tender kisses tested her, the coil of tension in her abdomen tightening with each one. Sudden heat rushed up the skin of her arm and over her chest and still his lips would not stop.
    But as they reached her wrist yet again, he slowly turned her hand over.
    “Oh god,” she whispered, eyes squeezed tightly shut.
    Mac’s lips touched the inside of her wrist. Isabelle fought the urge to pull her hand back, even as a throb erupted inside her and warmth began to spread between her thighs. His breath poured into her palm. His lips slipped a fraction closer. Blood was pounding in her ears and she felt herself start to sway. The anticipation was too much.
    Suddenly, Mac’s phone rang.
    And, then, so did hers.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

    MAC DROPPED THE cell phone into his front pocket and took out his keys.  
    We’ve got him.
    He waited for Isabelle to get off the phone.
    “We will,” Isabelle was saying as she stood up from the couch. “Kayla, I promise you, we will.” She glanced at Mac. “I’ve got to go now. Try to stay calm. Susan will be there soon. Okay. Right. Bye.” Isabelle hung up and focused her worried look on him. “She’s beside herself.”
    Mac nodded, holding out his arms.
    “I’m sure,” he said, as Isabelle stepped quickly into his embrace. “But the rate of recovering infants unharmed is very high. Especially when the abductor is a parent.” Isabelle nodded against his chest, hugging him. “In a way, this is good news.” She leaned away from him and looked up into his face, her eyebrows knit together. “It’s kidnapping,” he said, answering the unasked question.
    “But he’s the