Gingerbread Man

care for another human being. The one he'd made up his mind was bad for him.
    To feel it for a woman he also wanted sexually was another shock. He'd been so disconnected from that part of himself for so long that the overwhelming heat of it left him bewildered.
    Oh, sure, he had sex. When he felt the urge, he'd go out and find someone willing. But he was always completely in control. The act was always cold, calculated, thought out, and planned for. He never lost himself the way he had with Holly. And he never had sex with a woman who could need him the way she could.
    Which was why it had been perfectly rational for him to think he could curl up with her in the leaves, mostly naked, and do nothing but keep her warm. And which was why he'd blown up at her when his body had almost overwhelmed his mind. He wasn't furious with her, but with himself. And if he thought to scare her off by coming on like a caveman back there, he supposed he'd been wrong yet again. She'd seen right through it.
    Damn, where had so much longing come from?
    Now she was offended. No wonder. She'd been assaulted, insulted, and rejected all in one brief interlude. Not to mention bashed on the head, nearly drowned, and half frozen. He was a real asshole, and he knew it.
    They'd been hiking again for almost an hour, without exchanging a word. She wouldn't even look at him. She stomped through the decaying leaves on the ground with her arms folded across her chest, and her shoulders hunched.
    "I'm sorry," he said. He had to force the words out. Apologizing was not something he enjoyed doing, nor was it something he did often. Almost never, in fact. Of course, she had no way of knowing that.
    "You're right, you are. But I suspect you're only saying that so I won't call your department and turn your ass in out of vengeance."
    "No. I'm saying it because I acted like a jerk back there."
    She slid her eyes toward him but the minute her gaze touched his, she jerked it back again. "Whatever."
    He drew an impatient breath, blew it out again.
    "I'm not a tease," she said.
    "I know you're not."
    "No you don't. You don't know me at all. But for the record, I meant it when I said I wanted you. And I'm not ashamed to admit that. And if anyone was acting like a tease back there, you really ought to know that it was you."
    That brought him up short. He stopped walking, and stared at her. "Me?"
    She stared right back. "Yes, you. For crying out loud, O'Mally, you strip us both down, make a bed in the leaves, and then you hold me so close I can't breathe without tasting you—what was I supposed to think?"
    He couldn't even hold her gaze. "I was just trying to keep you warm."
    "Right. And that was a nightstick prodding my backside?'
    He gaped.
    "I'm not a tease, O'Mally, but I am human. I'm a woman, and, for the record, I think there's something here. Something that might
be
something, you know? But you're so damned stubborn I'm not sure how we'll ever find out"
    "I... sorry."
    "I thought you wanted me, too," she said. I mean, you gave every indication."
    The words
I did
—or more accurately,
I do
—would have tumbled from his lips if he hadn't pressed them together hard. "Look, I told you, I don't do relationships, okay? I don't have that kind of staying power."
    "Don't worry. I got the message."
    Hell. He did not need complications like this, like her, not now. He wasn't sure if it would be better to seduce her or ignore her. Either way, things were getting muddied up and it wasn't going to do his investigation one damned bit of good.
    A twig snapped off to the left, and his thoughts ground to a halt. He jerked his head around, scanning the trees in vain. He didn't have a gun, dammit. It was at the bottom of the lake somewhere.
    "What the hell was that?" Holly whispered. She, too, had gone still and was searching the darkness, wide-eyed.
    He examined the trees, seeing nothing. Shades of gray and brown and rust. "Deer?' he asked.
    "Not unless it was wearing army boots."
    He kept looking, narrowing his eyes. "I don't see anything." Then he focused on her again, saw her anger gone now, replaced by fear. Of the two he liked the anger better. He took her arm. "Let's get out of here." Then he looked up at the sky, completely obliterated now by thick clouds. The thunder was still rumbling, but it was no longer distant. It was loud, and intense. "I think the storm's held off about as long as it's going to."
    "I think you're right."
    They picked up the pace, and he held