Page 10 of A Shot at Love
“But I don’t trust him.” Gemma pointed a finger at Ky, her voice rising again. “I trust you.”
“I know, kid.” Josh rubbed a hand down her arm. He looked over at his wife, raised his eyebrows.
Kandy nodded. “We’ll take you back to your place and get everything you need,” she told her.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you go back to your apartment,” Ky told Gemma, noting she was now squinting at him, her brow creased, her fury aimed directly at him. “It might still be staked out by whoever did this to you. It’s not safe.”
Before she could protest, Josh said, “Kandy and I will get what you need and bring it all back here. Okay?”
“Do I really have a choice?” Gemma said, dragging her hands through her hair. “This sucks. Big time.”
Silently, Ky agreed.
*
An hour later Kandy kissed her goodbye after dropping off Gemma’s overnight bag, the laptop she used for editing her photos, and two of the cameras she’d requested, nestled in their carrying cases.
When Josh leaned in to give her cheek a brotherly peck, he whispered, “Be good. This guy is just trying to keep you safe. Don’t be a pain.”
She narrowed her eyes at him when he pulled back, but didn’t say anything.
Right after they left, Jon Winters came into the cubicle. “It’s all set,” he told Ky. Looking at Gemma he asked, “Are you ready, Miss Laine?”
Without a word, she nodded and grabbed for her bags. Ky reached for them at the same time. When his hand twisted over hers, they both stopped moving. Gemma lifted her gaze up to his and tightened her grip over the suitcase handle. His large palm engulfed her hand and all she could feel was heat flowing from it, warming her, searing her. A strange, unexpected spark fired right through her system, down to her stomach—and lower—causing a quick shudder to blast from deep within. For a moment Gemma forgot to breathe.
“Allow me,” he said, looking down at her. With his lips curving slightly at the corners, he added, “I’ll take this, since I figure you don’t want either one of us to touch your cameras.”
Gemma’s mind stopped working and all she could do was stare at his mouth. The center of his top lip held a small bow that indented and outlined the upper half of his lips. The bottom one was full, and on a woman, it would have been called pouty. On him, though, it was sensual, erotic, and just begging to be kissed.
Gemma couldn’t stop staring at it. For a few seconds her gaze stayed glued to his mouth, forgetting everything else.
“Miss Laine?” he said. “Is something wrong?”
Gemma tore her attention from his sexy lips up to his eyes, where a question filled them.
It was as if she was seeing his eyes, really seeing them, for the first time. As adept as she usually was at describing things, she couldn’t find the words to do justice to the unusual flecks of colors and shades filtering through his irises. The green was so light it appeared crystalline, with a darker rim that mimicked deep moss circling the inner, lighter colors. The lids were heavy-hooded, so even when wide awake and staring straight at her, he gave the impression he was just pulling out of sleep.
Bedroom eyes, Grandma Sophie had called a look like his. Sensual, sexual, and carnal, as if they could look right into your soul and know your deepest, darkest, most erotic secrets.
Gemma realized in that instant she would love nothing more than to commit those eyes to film. But even thinking it, she knew no photograph could ever capture the beauty and the essence of the colors staring back at her.
“Is something wrong?” Ky repeated.
The quizzical expression on his lined brow snapped Gemma out of her thoughts. With a slight shake of her head she glanced down at her hand, his still over it, and said, “No. No. I’ll take the cameras.”
Ky relaxed his grip and let her move hers from the handle of the suitcase. When she let go, he grabbed the bag, lifting it. “Ready?”
Gemma nodded once and picked up the camera cases. “As I’ll ever be, I guess.”
*
“It’s not the Ritz,” Ky said, “but as safe houses go, it’s not half bad.”
The Ritz it wasn’t. Not even close.
