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“I need to check a few things in the truck.” Saban rose from his chair as she turned to him. “I’ll be right back.”
He strode quickly from the room as she drew in a slow, hard breath. As she heard the front door close, she jerked the phone from the wall and punched in Mike’s cell phone number.
She was going to take care of this between her and Mike. She wouldn’t have Saban’s hands bloodied because of her ex-husband’s stupidity, and she wasn’t giving him the chance to nearly destroy her career again.
“Natalie, thank God you called.” He answered on the first ring. “Are you okay?”
The pseudo concern in his voice was nearly too much.
“Go home, Mike,” she snapped. “I divorced you for a reason. To get you out of my life. Don’t make me get another restraining order on you. You know how bad that’s going to look if you have to actually get another job.”
“You didn’t used to be so hard, Natalie.” There was a wealth of sorrow in his voice. God, didn’t he ever see what he was doing to himself?
“You didn’t used to be so stupid,” she hissed. “I left Tennessee to get away from you. I’m happy here, Mike. Happier than I ever was in our marriage. Go back to your bimbo and leave me the hell alone.”
Silence filled the line for long moments.
“I just want to see you first,” he finally said, his voice soft, regretful. “Is that so much to ask?”
“Yes, it is.” Way too much to ask, because she couldn’t blame Saban for being concerned, and there wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to agree to this.
“Five minutes, Natalie. Anywhere. I don’t care. Just give me five minutes to say good-bye.”
“And you’ll leave?”
“I swear, I’ll leave.”
“Five minutes,” she retorted. “I’ll be at the mall later today sometime around four. I’ll meet you at the outside entrance to Sally J’s.” Sally J’s was one of the women’s-only clothing stores in the large mall just outside town. “You’ll have five minutes. I’ll call you right before I step outside.”
“Will your furry friend be with you?” he asked bitterly.
“He’ll be around,” she finally sighed. “But I’ll talk to you alone. Be there at four, Mike. And rememb
er, five minutes. That’s it.”
“Five minutes. That’s all I need, Nat.”
She hung the phone up and moved back to the stove as the front door opened once again, and seconds later Saban strode back into the kitchen.
As Saban sat back down at the kitchen table and took a healthy sip of the decaffeinated coffee he’d slipped into the canister days ago, he drew in a slow breath.
Sometimes his sense of smell was a curse rather than a blessing. Times such as moments before, when he had smelled the emotion pouring from Natalie. Rich and saturated with arousal, tempestuous with need, and overlaying it all, the deep, heady scent of love.
Love had a scent, though it varied from person to person and couple to couple. It wasn’t easy to detect and often wasn’t even apparent except in high-stress, personal moments.
What was she thinking of? he wondered. What had caused that well of emotion to open inside her and break free and then to touch him. To touch him of her own volition, as though testing her ability to do so or his patience in allowing it.
God help them both—he would lie at her feet until hell froze over to feel again what he had felt when she had touched him so timidly. Sensation, like an electrical current had run over his scalp and sizzled down his spine. He’d barely restrained a weakening shiver, and he cursed himself for it. For a second, he’d been like the pitiful cub he remembered himself as, so long ago. Staring at the scientists from his metal pen, hungry for something that went beyond the need for food. And now he knew what that hunger was, not for just a touch, but for one filled with emotion.
That touch had set his nerve endings on fire, and now, long moments later, it had him on edge, off balance, and filled with his own emotions.
“I’d like to postpone the trip to the mall that you planned for today,” he told her, keeping his voice level as she set the plate of food in front of him. “There are still some safety issues I’d like to have taken care of first.”
His control not withstanding, the report Jonas had sent out via the eLink wasn’t happy news.
“I can’t postpone it.”
Saban’s head snapped up. Her voice was carefully bland, non-confrontational, but he heard the nervousness behind it. The same nervousness he sensed every damned time she disagreed with him. Did she think he was going to beat her for disagreeing with him? That son of a bitch, Claxton, had a lot to answer for; unfortunately, Saban had already come to the conclusion that he would have to allow Jonas and his team to take care of getting the bastard out of town, rather than taking care of it himself.
