Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
My territory.
My turf.
There is nothing better than home.
But my smile is short-lived.
I reach the stairs leading to my porch, and the motion detectors flicker to a soft glow before I have the chance to set them off. My heart leaps, and I’m poised for flight, my heart thundering in my chest as a man steps from the shadows of the corner, the rocking chair creaking with his exit. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with thick blond hair, the stranger seems to consume the porch and the very air around me.
I should be turning and running, but I hesitate, not because he’s tall, broad, and good-looking, but because there’s something familiar about him.
“Hello, Layla,” he greets in a deep, sandpaper-rough baritone.
I blink with the memories that flood my mind, stunned that my schoolgirl crush is here, right here, standing in front of me. But it can’t be. Can it? “Jensen?”
“It’s been a long time,” he says softly.
“I…I can’t believe you’re here.” But he is here—illogically, oddly. Jensen Prescott is standing on my doorstep. The older, even hotter version of the boy I’d once known—a man now, his face more defined, his body more sculpted. “How are you here? How is this even possible?”
“I’d rather explain inside, if you’ll invite me in.”
The wind gusts, lifting my hair and then my skirt.
I gasp and grab the material and shove it back into place, but not before Jensen has been offered a direct view of my unmentionables.
Recovering from my exposure, I expect to find amusement on Jensen’s face, but he frowns as he scans the yard, as if he were looking for some unknown threat.
“We should really go inside now,” he says, his gaze settling back to me, and though he hasn’t moved, there’s a new edge to him, a sense of increasing discomfort.
His unease becomes mine, flitting through me, my own senses tingling with awareness and telling me that something is behind me, watching me, stalking me. It’s all I can do not to run up the stairs toward Jensen. Instead, I hesitate, forcing myself to remain in place. No matter how sexy and familiar Jensen might be, I don’t know him, and it’s been years since our flirtations.
And it’s weird that he’s here.
How does he know where I live?
Caution with him prevails, despite the continued niggle of warning that someone is behind me. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here or even how you found me.”
“Invite me inside, Layla,” he says, his voice low and tense, bordering on a command.
I open my mouth to speak and shut it as a droplet of rain smacks me in the forehead. That’s all the encouragement I need. I run up the stairs toward Jensen.
Chapter three
Jensen
With my GTECH senses screaming in warning, I follow Layla inside her house, leaving my team covertly nestled around the exterior perimeter. I shut the door behind me, welcoming any added barrier between us and the Zodius, who I am certain are nearby.
Layla turns to face me, close, so close that the soft floral scent of her insinuates into my nostrils and warms my blood. Close enough that I can see the infinitesimal specks of amber sunshine and honey in her gaze. She’s a woman now, beautiful and confident, with curves in all the right places and the most amazing mouth that demands to be kissed.
We stare at one another, the air crackling with a mixture of unmistakable, surprisingly clear and present, shared attraction, along with something edgier, darker, that tells me she’d probably smack me if I really did try and kiss her. And I’d deserve it for standing her up so long ago; I’d even welcome it if it would get the past out of the way and dispel the uncertainty and distrust radiating off of her. She’s on edge and suspicious of me, which only makes me more suspicious of her. The coincidence of her involvement in something so near to me is hard to digest—nearly impossible—while her months in Germany could have easily been spent in a lab with Julian Rain.
But none of this stops my eyes from tracing her lush lips and imagining how she might taste.
My gaze lifts to her cautious one. “You should lock up,” I tell her, wanting to do it myself but afraid I’ll put her more on edge, as if I’m a crazy person from her past who’s trying to hold her captive.
She sets her purse on the slim mahogany table against the wall. “Locks will slow my escape if you turn out to be some sort of crazy stalker.”
My lips twitch at the playful accusation, though I know she isn’t completely joking. Good thing I didn’t lock the door myself, I think with amusement. “Since when does a crazy stalker wait for an invitation to come inside?”
She crosses her arms in front of her. “I’ve heard stalkers are quite patient and calculating.”