Page 83 of Dark Lover

He’d healed her.

She’d been his first, and she hadn’t even been at death’s door.

Sam crossed the living room of the suite, trying not to acknowledge the tingle of elation that brought her. She reminded herself that he was complicated. Any number of reasons could have motivated him—including his hatred of evil and the need for her as backup. It didn’t mean he cared. It did not mean that he was involved. Maclean would never care about a woman. She had to be careful.

Sam halted on the threshold of his bedroom.

Ian sat in bed, against a number of big pillows, the covers at his waist. He was bare-chested. His pectoral muscles were barely dusted with hair, and the cross he wore on the leather cord remained nestled in the hollow of his collarbone. Every time he breathed, his tight six pack rippled. He looked sexy enough to make her mouth water.

With the most recent crisis averted, she had the intense urge to join him in that bed.

But Jan was with him. Incredibly, she sat on the bed by his hip, smiling and talking quietly to him. Ian lifted his gaze and sent Sam a direct look.

By now, Sam was used to his changing gears in mere heartbeats. He’d been furious and desperate an hour ago, then horrified over Gerard’s near murder. Now, he was steaming.

But so was she.

Ian leaned back against the pillows. “Still here?”

“You bet. Gee, I hope I’m not interrupting.” Sam looked at Jan. “Why are you still here?”

Jan didn’t move off the bed. “Nick asked me to debrief Ian. But he hasn’t been very cooperative…yet.” She smiled at him. “So what happened when you got back from Hemmer’s tonight, Ian?”

Sam was perplexed. “I thought this place was our version of Candid Camera.”

Jan glanced at her. “Someone disabled all of our feeds.”

Sam hid a smile and met Ian’s glance. His mouth curled. “I can’t imagine who could or would do such a thing.”

“We want to help, Ian. We don’t want to see civilians hurt or murdered in this war. It would really help if you could fill in a few blanks for us.”

“Ask her.” Ian stared at Sam.

Jan glanced at Sam. “Sam will file her report first thing tomorrow, or maybe even tonight. We can help you fight off the monk. Why won’t you accept our help?”

“I don’t need yer help. And I won’t repay ye with the page.” He suddenly threw the covers off and got out of the bed.

Sam inhaled. He was stark naked.

He gave her an arrogant smile. “I beg yer pardon.”

Jan made a sound.

Sam looked at her. Jan stood. While she wasn’t blushing, she was certainly checking the entire package out. Only a blind woman could ignore such male beauty and virility. Ian walked past her, clearly indifferent to the fact that he had not a stitch of clothing on, disappearing into his dressing room.

Sam crossed her arms.

Jan looked at her. “Don’t worry. He’s not my type.” But she was pale now. She’d seen his back.

Jan was now feeling sorry for him; Sam was sure of it.

Jan started from the room. “I am going to debrief him, Sam, after he gets dressed. You can stay, if you want. But I can get more accomplished if you leave.”

Sam decided to ignore her. She walked past her, following Maclean into a large dressing room and walk-in closet.

He’d stepped into his jeans, and she saw that he hadn’t bothered with underwear. He gave her a suggestive look as he jerked the zipper up.

She swallowed. All was forgotten. The video and his reaction to it, his destruction of his own home theatre, his nastiness and anger. “Where are you going?”