Proof of Life by Misty Evans

Author:Misty Evans [Evans, Misty]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9781605048062
Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Published: 2009-10-19T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

Michael stared across his desk at the top of Brigit’s head. It was bent as she studied his file on Peter Donovan. She’d bathed and her freshly washed hair hung around her face. She kept tucking sections behind her ears, but as the dark tresses dried, they formed natural waves that sprang forward like stretched rubber bands snapping back into place. Because she’d had no clean clothes to replace her smoky-smelling running attire, Michael had given her one of his T-shirts and a pair of sweats.

While she’d cleaned up in his upstairs bathroom, he’d placed the necessary calls to get the FBI chasing Tory and the charges against Brigit dropped. He’d also made sure Ella was back home safe and sound.

Brigit flipped a paper over, then pushed her hair back from her face. Keeping her eyes on the paper, she used the fingers of her right hand to make graceful sweeps through the curls, which coiled back immediately. She did it again, and Michael’s concentration slipped another notch.

She glanced up. “Do you have any hairbands?”

Grabbing a section of his short hair and pulling up a whole half an inch, he cocked a brow at her.

“Right,” she said. “I just thought maybe Julia or one of your other female friends might have left one here.”

Her continual references to Julia did not escape notice. Even though his relationship with Julia was in the past, he liked the fact Brigit appeared threatened by her. Deciding it didn’t hurt to feed Brigit’s anxiety about his other female friends, he said, “Sorry, I haven’t noticed any.”

She dropped her head back, closed her eyes and let out a sigh. “I can still smell the smoke in my hair. It’s driving me nuts.”

All he could smell was his shampoo on her. And his soap. He liked the smell and the image of her in his bathtub washing her curves with his bath products. He blinked the image away. “Smoke is hard to get out. It may take more than one shampooing to do it.”

“Especially since I’m gimped.” She wiggled the fingers of her left hand, peeking out of the sling he’d given her for her arm. It was the one he’d used after his surgery. “Only having one hand, and that one being my right, I wasn’t very thorough.”

“You can try again in the morning.”

She closed the file, setting it on his desk as she stood. “No, I won’t be able to sleep. The smell brings back old nightmares. I’ve got to wash it again now. Mind if I do it in the kitchen sink? It might be easier.”

Nightmares could be triggered by the smallest things. He’d gone around that block a time or two. Her smoke trigger could mean several different things. Either way, what did he care if she washed her hair again?

Nodding his consent, he filed the fact away and watched her walk out of the study, her hips lost in his sweatpants. She’d tugged the drawstring as tight as it would go and rolled the waistband over several times.

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