Free Surrender the Dark by Donna Kauffman Page B

idea what to expect, but it wasn’t this. Rae was covered from neck to shins with some sort of thick protective apron. She had on heavy canvaslike gloves that extended past her elbows, and to top off the lovely ensemble, her face was hidden behind a metal mask with a tiny window in the front. Obviously this was all to protect her from the huge blowtorch she was wielding.
    She hadn’t noticed him. Of course, he couldn’t figure how she could see much of anything from inside that helmet. And considering the nature of their relationship, he wasn’t about to disturb her while she could turn him into toast with a flick of her wrist.
    Fighting the odd urge to smile, he took a seat on a nearby stool and settled in to watch her. Now that he knew she was back and safe, the tension that had been riding him all morning left with a suddenness that made him feel almost weak.
    He didn’t stop to analyze his feelings; he was too caught up in the intriguing process of her art. The room was hot to the point of sweltering, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t know how she stood it inside that apron. Then he found himself wondering what she wore under it. He visualized a T-shirt, damp from the heat and her exertion, clinging to every curve and angle of her body.…
    Jarrett tore his gaze away and shifted uncomfortably on the stool, thankful for the roominess of the sweats she’d brought him. As he glanced around the room, his attention was captured by the unusual clock on the far wall.
    The jumbled strands of various metals should have looked like nothing more than a scrap pile welded together. Yet the way she’d sculpted them gave them a sinuous shape that actually looked stronger for all the twists and turns. His gaze shot back to Rae. Sort of like the lady who’d created it, he thought, again wanting to know more about her. What had really driven her to join his team, and what forces had shaped her life since she’d left him?
    He turned back to the clock, seeing now the small bits of uncut gemstones tucked into the strands as hour markers. He strained his eyes until he could single out each spark of color, finding agate, malachite, quartz, and several other stones he didn’t know, feeling with each identification that he was actually discovering another piece of Rae. The real Rae.
    She shut off the torch the same instant he turned back to her. After pulling off the steel mask, she set down the torch, then tugged the gloves off and adjusted the fuel gauges. He bit down on a smile when she peeled the apron off to reveal a loose-fitting flannel shirt, its rolled-up sleeves sagging drunkenly at her elbows, its ragged hem hanging down over baggy jeans. So much for his wet-T-shirt fantasies.
    Suddenly she stilled, then very slowly she turned and faced him. He knew he hadn’t made a sound. It was as if she’d felt him watching her.
    Her wary gaze should have made him feel like the intruder he was. It didn’t. In fact, sitting there in her shop, watching her bring life to inanimate objects, forgingsome vision only she saw, he’d never felt closer to her.
    “Do you have any other pieces of your work out here?” he asked. He gestured to the clock. “I’m intrigued.” When she didn’t answer him, just continued to stare, he nodded to the metal clamped to her worktable. “What is that going to be?”
    As if coming out of a trance, she looked at her current piece, then turned her back to him altogether as she set about cleaning up. “You shouldn’t be out here.”
    He sighed, feeling foolish for wanting to talk with her, for wanting to put everything else aside for just a moment. He should have known better.
    He marshaled his wayward thoughts, resigned to another tense interchange. “I saw your Jeep and didn’t know where you were.”
    She snorted, but didn’t look at him. “Don’t worry, McCullough, I wouldn’t run off and leave you.”
    He didn’t say anything. For a second he couldn’t even swallow past the hard knot in his