Free The Survivor by Rhonda Nelson

concluded that the client in Albany had indeed been the only one Bess hadn’t included on their map. He sincerely hoped that John Smith—he inwardly snorted at the name—would be here soon so he could take him down, load him up and haul him back to Atlanta, where the boys in blue would take care of him. Theoretically, he and Bess could be home before ten tonight, he could be back in his newapartment, his first assignment completed quickly and competently.
    For whatever reason, he didn’t think that was going to happen, and there was an even bigger part of him that, perversely, hoped it didn’t. Because no mission meant no more Bess and he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her just yet. She was beautiful and interesting and she had a different way of looking at the world—a way that made him appreciate it more—and she was a nurturer and she was…
    She was good, Lex realized, the simple description fitting her as well as her name. Or as good as a woman with a wicked sense of humor who bathed nude on her back porch could be, he thought, smiling as that little picture leaped obligingly to his mind once more. He shifted, losing room in his pants again, and watched her smile up at Chester, her ripe mouth curling in sultry humor. Take now, for instance.
    She’d instinctively known that Chester would want to dance and without batting a lash had asked him. And she’d quietly observed that Lex’s shoulder had been hurting and had handed him the pills to make it stop. No muss, no fuss, just a pointed look when he’d played dumb—he knew what the pills were for—and she had gone on about her business, certain that she was doing what she could.
    It was that same attitude that had made her so worried over her clients, that made her want to protecteach and every one of them like a mama bear protecting her cubs. She knew what was good and true and right and endeavored to achieve that end. That was admirable, Lex thought. And it took character.
    Chester laughed as the music drew to a close and gestured to Lex. “You’ve got to come dance, young man. These old feet have to have a bit of rest.”
    Lex didn’t hesitate. His gaze tangled with hers and he held out his hand. The instant her fingers wrapped around his, he felt something shift in his chest, something so profound he almost hesitated before pulling her into his arms. Almost being the operative word there. Wild horses couldn’t have dragged him away, he was that damned determined to touch her.
    Just touch her.
    Shaken, he looked down at her and smiled. “This is a nice change,” he said. “There wasn’t any dancing on the job in the military.” He breathed her in, inhaled the air around her and felt it settle into his lungs. She was soft and womanly in his arms, warm and pliant, and he resisted the urge to draw her closer, to mold her more firmly to him.
    But this wasn’t that kind of dance and Chester, bless him, was watching.
    She smelled good, too, Lex thought. Like lemons and something else. Something light and floral. If he leaned forward even the smallest fraction, he could rest his chin on top of her head. He hadn’t realizedhow short she was until that very moment, and something about her petite size beckoned his protective instincts, made him want to hold her closer.
    â€œYou’re short,” he remarked before he thought any better of it.
    She looked up at him, droll humor in her eyes. “That’s some serious deductive reasoning skills right there,” she teased. “What tipped you off? My hair tickling your chin?”
    â€œYes, actually,” he said, looking down at her. The smart-ass. “I like the way your shampoo smells, by the way.”
    She swept out and twirled beneath his hand, then curled back into his chest and grinned. “It’s lemon verbena,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “You’re welcome to try