Edge of Danger (7 page)

 
Strictly speaking, she wasn’t beautiful, merely pretty, he thought desperately. Her mouth was full, and clearly used to smiling, although right now she was frowning, and looked very serious. Her eyelashes were thick and naturally dark, long enough to cast shadows on her cheekbones. Her large, chocolate brown eyes were pensive as she stared into space. Something was worrying Dr. Cahill. Something that had her combing her fingers through her dark hair. He almost groaned; he wanted to push her hands aside and do that himself. He didn’t wonder how it would feel—he could
see
how soft and silky her hair would be, tangled between his fingers.

 
Resisting her was like trying not to breathe. He could manage it for slightly longer than he could hold his breath on a deep sea dive, but eventually the clawing need had him again.

 
Every muscle in his body was tight. The magnetism was undoubtedly sexual. But it was more than that.

 
Stronger even than lust.

 
The knowledge that this was beyond lust terrified him right down to his marrow.

 
He’d felt sexual attraction to plenty of women in his thirty-four years. Lust at first sight a time or two. But never like this. Never a slam in the gut so powerful he grew hard.

 
Every hunter’s instinct in him demanded he go to her. Claim her. Right now. Right there in her chair. And to hell with her assistant. To hell with the consequences.

 
He’d slide the zipper down on her jeans, yank them off and spread her legs—Ah, Jesus—He crushed the thought, because if he let himself finish it, the tenuous hold he had on his control would shatter.

 
Today she was wearing jeans and a plain red T-shirt with a little pocket over the swell of her right breast. Gabriel’s hungry gaze traveled greedily down her body, all the way to her pretty feet with their bright pink polish and little black ring on the pinkie toe of her right foot. His gut tightened just looking at her sexy toes in those high-heeled sandals that showed off her slender ankles.

 
He wanted to hold her in his arms for real. Hold her and touch her silky skin. His hands hurt from wanting to touch her. His breathing had to be shallow, because he could smell her heady, womanly fragrance, and it made him dizzy with longing. She liked perfume, different ones. He’d seen the fancy bottles lined up in her bathroom. Today she had on something intensely feminine, smelling of flowers and sunshine. The fragrance mingled with the scent of her skin in a way that made Gabriel feel drunk just inhaling it.

 
He knew she’d taste as delicious as she smelled.

 
Don’t go there.
He wished to God he could do this to her from a distance. About five thousand miles might do it. But to do what he needed to do, he had to be within sight of her. Frigging hell, he thought, so frustrated he wanted to chew glass.

 
It hadn’t worked six hours ago.

 
He was desperate enough to try again. He couldn’t take her back to the castle. He just fucking
couldn’t.
She was seductive and succulent enough as it was, sitting here in a sterile white lab. What in God’s name would he do if he ever saw her naked again? Just the memory almost made him swallow his tongue.

 
He liked that she was womanly. Not fat by any stretch of the imagination, but magnificently curvy. She had a spectacular ass, long gorgeous legs, and fantasy-worthy breasts.

 
He hungered to see her naked again. He wanted to mold the thin cotton to her breasts with his hands. He wanted to slide his fingers beneath the shirt and feel her smooth, bare skin. It would be warm. Silky smooth. Responsive—

 
Half expecting her to look up, he thought it inconceivable that she wasn’t just as aware of him as he was of her. His own elevated heartbeat threatened to choke him. All his senses were so sharply attuned to hers.

 
Indeed, he’d noticed that within moments of his appearance her heart rate
had
shot up, and her respiration
had
changed. So she felt the same inescapable pull he did, even though she couldn’t possibly know that he was watching her.

 
She was clearly thinking, her eyes as large and trusting as a child’s as she stared into space.
What’s going on in that clever brain of yours, Doctor?
She chewed on her lush lower lip, and Gabriel bit back a groan. Damn it. He had to make this quick. But first he needed to get Marshall Davis out of the room. He considered just vaporizing the guy, but dismissed the idea as medieval. Fast, expedient, but unduly harsh.

 
A woman as strong-willed as Eden Cahill wasn’t suddenly going to allow herself to let go to the extent he needed her to let go. Not with someone else in the room.

 
He placed a suggestion in Davis’s mind.

 
The younger man swiveled in his chair. “Hey, you didn’t have your tea yet, did you? Want me to get it for you?”

 
She blinked, and her eyes came slowly back into focus. “That’s okay, I’ll get it in a minute.”

 
Get her the fucking tea.

 
“No prob. Be right back.” Davis darted to the back of the lab and the kitchenette. He started opening and closing cabinet doors in his search for the tea bags. That would take a while, since Gabriel added an oldie but goodie to his mental messaging to Marshall, blanking the definition of a tea bag from the kid’s brain.

 
Gabriel closed his eyes and imagined touching the soft, tender skin of Eden’s nape where, he’d discovered last night, she was extremely sensitive. Mentally he brushed her hair aside, then ran his lips from her hairline to the first vertebra of her spine. She tilted her head and shivered.

 
He concentrated on arousing her. No matter how much of a hurry he was in—and God help him, he wanted to get the hell out of there P-fucking-DQ—he needed her to climax for at least twelve seconds. He’d have to have that much time to get into her mind and retrieve the data.

 
He imagined his hand on the fullness of her breast, felt the weight and the texture. Jesus…He was swimming in shark-infested waters here. His own arousal profound and painful, he teased her nipple to a sharp point. Then made the mistake of opening his eyes to watch her.

 
Head resting against the back of her chair, eyes closed, she’d sunk her teeth into her lower lip. Gabriel almost fell to his knees, he wanted her so badly.

 
This was as close as he could get to the good doctor, he reminded himself.

 
The tight buds of her nipples pressed against the thin cotton of her T-shirt and her breathing become increasingly erratic. Lips parted, a hectic pink bloomed in her cheeks. She was close. Damn close.

 
Jesus. This was killing him. Letting his mind touch her as he wanted to do, Gabriel eased her jean-clad thighs apart. Picturing the heel of his hand on her mound, he pressed firmly. Almost there.

 
Glass shattered, breaking the moment, and Marshall yelled from the kitchen. “Sorry!”

 
Eden moaned. Dazed and disoriented, she opened her eyes. “What the hell was
that
?!” she whispered, shaken.

 
“That what?” Marshall asked coming up beside her. “Sorry it took me so long. I had one of those things, you know? When you walk into a room and completely forget why you’re there? Anyway, here you go.” He placed a steaming cup of coffee beside her. “It’s hot, so be careful.”

 
I’m hot, too,
Eden thought, picking up the jumbo cup with both hands. The heat bled through to her palms as she lifted it to take a sip. “Perfect.” Other than it being coffee, which she never drank, not tea. She hoped he didn’t put her into a diabetic coma after apparently dumping the entire box of sugar into the cup when the most she allowed herself was half a pack of Sweet’N Low.

 
She sipped anyway as she considered the possibility that she might have a brain tumor. What else could explain these hallucinations and inappropriate sexual behaviors?

 
Or, maybe she was just on the brink of a good, old-fashioned nervous breakdown. Clearly the stress of her moral dilemma was taking its toll. Taking another small swallow of too sweet coffee, she glanced up at the man beside her. “Do I look normal to you?”

 
Marshall’s lips twitched. “Define normal?”

 
Eden reached out and swatted his arm. “Seriously. How do I look?”

 
With his sharpei frown, he stepped back, then scanned her from top to toe and back again. “Normal. A little flushed. But normal.”

 
She blushed harder because she was blushing. “How have I been behaving lately?”

 
He gave her a bewildered look. “Like a person who found the murdered body of a friend should behave? Sad, angry, frustrated. And sometimes like a woman whose favorite toy was taken away. Pissed off.” He shrugged his bony shoulders. “I don’t know, Eden. You’ve been behaving like…a
girl,
I guess.”

 
She narrowed her eyes. “Guys don’t get sad and angry and frustrated?”

 
“Oh, yeah, sure we do. A lot.” Marshall flushed. “It’s—well, it’s
you
who usually doesn’t.”

 
“I don’t?”
She didn’t?

 
“Eden. You’re always so…
focused.
Ninety-eight point seven percent of the time you don’t notice anything that goes on around you when you’re in here.”

 
“I notice things that go on around me.”

 
“In
this
lab?”

 
“Yes. Sometimes.”

 
“As I said. Normal.” He wandered back to his desk.

 
“Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.” She shot at his back. He was already pounding his keyboard.

 
The truth was, she wasn’t very good with people. Give her a computer any day. Not only was a computer logical, it wasn’t judgmental either. She’d always been a misfit because of her high IQ. She’d never really fit in anywhere but in an academic setting and the lab. Was it any wonder she felt emotionally safest,
happiest
here?

 
Theo’s violent death had taken some of that away from her. Not being able to continue their work on the robot was contributing to her enormous feeling of loss. She liked her life ordered. Regulated. Predictable. Right now it was none of that.

 
Getting back to work, miring herself in a project, would, she hoped, get her back on track. And get her emotions back on an even keel where she could deal with them in a rational manner. She’d rather spend the day with her computer than a person.

 
God,
she thought with self-deprecating humor,
no wonder I can’t get laid.

 
A focused hour later, Marshall swiveled his chair around. “Can I ask you a hypothetical question?”

 
“Hmmm?”

 
“Could we maybe rebuild Rex?”

 
Eden’s head snapped up as she realized just how dangerous that information could be. “Even if we could, that’s something we’ll keep to ourselves.”
God.
He’d just voiced her worst fears. “Imagine what the wrong people could do with Rex. Imagine it—multiply that grim possibility only a hundred times worse, and then tell me, should we rebuild him?”

 
His face went blank with disappointment. “Damn. What a waste of brilliant technology.”