used to rejection, after so many years in foster care. She only shrugged and looked out the window, watchingpalm trees and colorful buildings slide past as they wove through side streets and back onto the expressway.
Â
The airport was crowded. Micah caught her by the arm and guided her past the ticket counter on the way to the concourses.
âButâ¦â she protested.
âDonât argue. Just walk through the metal detector.â
He followed close behind her. Neither of them was carrying anything metallic, but Micah was stopped when a security woman passed a wand over the two of them and her detector picked up the residual gunpowder on his hands and clothing. The woman looked at her instrument and then at him, with a wary, suspicious stare.
He smiled lazily at the uniformed woman holding the wand. âIâm on my way to a regional skeet shooting tournament,â he lied glibly. âI sent my guns on ahead by express, unassembled. Canât be too careful these days, where firearms are concerned,â he added, catching Callieâs hand in his. âRight, honey?â he murmured softly, drawing her close.
To Callieâs credit, she didnât faint at the unexpected feel of Micahâs arm around her, but she tingled from head to toe and her heart went wild.
The airport security woman seemed to relax, and she smiled back. She assumed, as Micah had intended, that he and Callie were involved. âIndeed you canât. Have a good trip.â
Micah kept that long, muscular arm around Callie as they walked slowly down the concourse. He looked down, noting the erratic rhythm of her heartbeat at her neck, and he smiled to himself.
âYou have lightning-quick reflexes,â he remarked after aminute. âI noticed that in Cancún. You didnât argue, you didnât question anything I told you to do, and you moved almost as fast as I did. Youâre good company in tight corners.â
She shrugged. âWhen you came in through the window, I didnât know who you were, because of that face mask. Actually,â she confessed with a sheepish smile, âat first, I figured you were a rival drug dealer, but I had high hopes that you might be kind enough to just kill me and not torture me first if I didnât resist.â
He drew in a sharp breath and the arm holding her contracted with a jerk. âStrange attitude, Callie,â he remarked.
âNot at the time. Not to me, anyway.â She shivered at the memory and felt his arm tighten almost protectively. They were well out of earshot and sight of the security guard. âMicah, what was that wand she was checking us with?â
âIt detects nitrates,â he replied. âWith it, they can tell if a passenger has had any recent contact with weapons or explosives.â
She was keenly aware of his arm still holding her close against his warm, powerful body. âYou can, uh, let go now. Sheâs out of sight.â
He didnât relent. âDonât look, but thereâs a security guard with a two-way radio about fifteen feet to your right.â He smiled down at her. âAnd Iâll give you three guesses whoâs on the other end of it.â
She smiled back, but it didnât reach her eyes. âThe lady with the nitrate wand? Weâre psyching them out, right?â
He searched her eyes and for a few seconds he stopped walking. âPsyching them out,â he murmured. His gaze fell to her soft, full mouth. âExactly.â
She couldnât quite get her breath. His expression was unreadable, but his black eyes were glittering. He watched her blouse shake with the frantic rate of her heartbeats. He was remembering mistletoe and harsh words, and that same look in Callieâs soft eyes, that aching need to be kissed that made her look so very vulnerable.
âWhat the hell,â he murmured roughly as his head bent to hers. âItâs an airport. People
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