Free Talent to Burn (Hidden Talent #1) by Laura Welling

his skin. Holding my breath, I listened, waiting for any indication he might be awake. His breathing continued, even and deep, and my hand stretched up to settle on his arm where it lay over my chest. My fingers ran lightly over his forearm, catching on the ridges of hair. I reached farther up, over the curve of his bicep to the back of his shoulder, and ran my hand back and forth, absorbing the feel of him for later. If this were all I had, I would store it up for a rough day.
    I lay awake for a long time, and then I had one of those blink-sleeps where you close your eyes and then suddenly it’s morning. No arms and legs were tangled with mine, no warm body pressed against my hip. Last night felt like a pleasant erotic dream.
    I hadn’t had a single dream that I remembered. No fire dreams. Nothing. I wasn’t going to dwell on why—gift horses and all of that.
    The shower was running. I wondered if he’d woken up wrapped around me and fled. The water stopped and a few minutes later Jamie emerged, fully dressed, not meeting my eyes. Disappointed, I crawled out of the bed, mumbled, “Good morning,” and made my preparations for the day.
    Jamie insisted we go to a Bavarian village-themed buffet in another casino that he’d read about. It was a short walk. We didn’t talk much over breakfast, and I was awash with sausage and potato pancakes and coffee when we were done.
    I pushed back my chair. I might not have slept with him, but I was profoundly satiated with sleep and food and the mere fact of having cuddled up against a nearly naked man all night. I sighed in pleasure. Jamie looked at me in question and I smiled at him, embarrassment evaporating. He returned the smile with his usual easy charm.
    We cut back toward our own hotel through the gaming floor. The twilight atmosphere and constant electronic jingling of the slot machines made the whole thing surreal, especially at breakfast time. The number of people seemed a little lower than last night, but only a little. I cast my gaze across the floor, tables and machines stretching off into the distance, and then I stopped.
    “Jamie,” I breathed, grabbing his arm. “Over there. Oh God.” Terror glued my feet to the floor.
    He followed my gaze and saw what I saw: standing across the other side of a whole section of gaming tables from us stood a familiar figure with a shock of near-white blond hair. His head was turned as he also surveyed the room. He must not have spotted us yet.
    “Stop looking at him. Let’s get out of here, quietly, as if nothing was going on.” Jamie took my hand and walked casually away, back the way we had come.
    “How did he know we were here?” I muttered, fighting to keep from breaking into a run. My ears rang with blood.
    “Remember, he can do a lot of the same things I can do.”
    “You said he followed our scents.”
    “True. He would have lost us when we flew here, but it wouldn’t take a genius to work out where we were going. He probably picked us up at the crime scene, or maybe the motel.”
    “Does that mean he’ll hunt us as long as we’re in Vegas?” I quickened my steps.
    Jamie ducked into a hallway that led to some stores. “Most likely, yes. We have to keep one step ahead.”
    The hallway evolved into a cobblestone street, lined with faux-Swiss-village stores. I sped up, trying not to stumble on the uneven street. Jamie kept pace with me. As I pushed forward, I accidentally elbowed a beefy tourist in shorts and a bucket hat.
    “Excuse you,” he said loudly.
    “Sorry,” I said, and glancing over my shoulder, froze. Ryder stood at the end of the street, his laser-beam eyes burning holes into me.
    “Run,” I said, the panic bursting through, and broke from Jamie’s grasp. We sprinted up the street, weaving through the morning crowds, past an oom-pah band in their lederhosen. Jamie stayed at my side and I realized I was the one slowing us down. I was out of breath already.
    A fat, red-faced fellow in a jaunty