Jungle of Deceit by Maureen A. Miller

Author:Maureen A. Miller [Miller, Maureen A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Suspense, Fiction
ISBN: 9781463792510
Google: c1ojYAAACAAJ
Amazon: 0323034675
Publisher: CreateSpace
Published: 2011-08-15T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Alex woke to a noise at her door. Chaotic dreams merged with reality as it sounded like scratching−the methodical scrape of a leopard’s claws marking a message on a tree trunk. What message did it write? Alex began the arduous climb towards consciousness and acknowledged that this was no leopard. It was the soft tap of a man’s knuckle against wood.

Swathing the silky sheet around her chest so that it flowed like a goddess’s exotic white tunic, Alex stepped towards her door and managed a hushed, “Yes?”

“Let me in.”

It was definitely not a leopard, but it was a cunning creature also known for its stalking and ambushing traits.

“I am sleeping,” she whispered hoping he would just go away.

“Alex,” he paused, “we need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There is plenty to talk about. Open the door. I happen to know that it doesn’t lock, but I’d rather you invite me in.”

Son of a− What the hell was he, a vampire? Fine. She wanted this. She wanted answers. The nap healed her mind and she was ready to be sharp again.

Alex hauled open the door and the let the tall shadow stalk in.

The first thing she noticed was that Mitch smelled clean. Soap, shampoo−and his skin emitted a cloud of humidity as if he had just stepped from the shower. She was aware of the man−of his physical attributes that were now concealed in a white T-shirt and jeans. As the door closed he moved in, and it appeared that he might reach for her, but at the last second he refrained.

“Will you let me get dressed at least?”

His eyes slid down her neck to the sheet gripped in a fist against her collarbone, he managed a weary smile. “If you must.”

Alex disappeared into the bathroom and rushed to yank her clean clothes out of the dryer and put them on. They felt warm, and she glanced down to find the tank top remarkably white again. With her hands gripping the rim of the sink, she studied her reflection in the mirror, satisfied that her eyes were much more alert now and her blond hair possessed a vivid shine once again. She opened the bathroom door, ready for answers.

***

Mitch rose from the loveseat at the site of Alex emerging from the bathroom. God, he wanted to touch her. He wanted to engulf her bare shoulders in his palms and draw her against his chest−and he wanted to kiss her again. Damn, he wanted to kiss her again. But one glimpse of her resolved expression told him there was little chance of that happening.

He had spent the last sleepless hour cursing Nicholson to hell, and condemning his own sorry existence. Half of him wished he told the Chronicle to shove it and had quit before accepting that gig on the Newark dock. The other half, and the one that was winning the battle, thought he would have been a lesser man if he had not met Alexandra Langley.

“Who are you?” Alex asked with arms crossed.

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