if I assaulted you, big guy.
And don't ever call me 'sweetheart'." Finn said visibly relaxing,
she dropped the bat to her side, where it rested against her leg.
Useless.
"I don't think I need to call the police."
She continued, dismissing his skills once again. "You don't seem
like much of a threa..."
Henry was on her, hand over her mouth,
pinning her to the ground before she could add the 't' to threat.
He let her feel his full weight for a millisecond before easing
back just enough so she could breathe. Henry didn't want to squish
her, he just wanted...well what he really wanted he wasn't going to
act on until she got to know him better.
The cat jumped on his back, claws fully
extended.
In pain, Henry hissed in Finn's ear. "Call
off your cat. I don't want to hurt her, but I will if she doesn't
get off me." He wouldn't hurt the cat, not much anyway. He liked
cats. He preferred them claws sheathed and purring, curled in his
lap, to spitting while shredding his skin.
He must have sounded like he meant what he
said because the cat moved away from him even before he removed his
hand from Finn's mouth.
"Go home, Freya." Finn ordered, sounding
more defiant than afraid.
The cat looked at her mistress, looked back
at Henry as if to say later jerk , before she turned and
silently loped off toward the house. Henry got the distinct
impression that the cat went home only because she knew her
mistress wasn't in any real danger, not because she was told
to.
Henry turned his attention away from the
feline to the warm woman under him. She stared mutinously up at
him.
Definitely not afraid .
Anger shot from her denim blue eyes, making
him laugh.
"You were saying something about my skills?
Come on, sweetheart , tell me again how bad I am at my job. I
want to hear all about it."
...
Finn stared up into nearly colorless
eyes.
They'd be hard to describe later if she did
file a police report, which she had no intention of doing. It
wasn't worth the trouble. Finn didn't want this man or anyone
associated with Jordon Bennett around long enough for the police to
follow through. She purposefully provoked him without realizing he
maneuvered her into letting her guard down.
He wasn't threatening her. She didn't feel
unsafe. She'd been around long enough to know when she was in real
danger. He wasn't letting her up though, but Finn wasn't going to
give him the satisfaction of demanding that he do so before she
exhausted all her other options. Which she'd get right on, just as
soon as she could stop trying to define the color of his eyes.
Not gray, or green or blue. Certainly not
any shade of brown on the palette. His eyes were more than any one
color. Like river rock in the shallows they seemed to project a
different mix of color as the light shifted and changed. They
reminded Finn of mist in the early evening or morning fog through
the trees.
River rock? Mist? Nice one. That'll look
great on the complaint. Six three or four. Heart-stopping smile.
Reddish brown hair. Eyes the color of morning mist. Great. Get
ready for the APB .
Irritated by her reaction to him and the
fact that he wasn't letting her up, Finn made a sound low in her
throat; part anger, part frustration, mostly wounded pride. She
twisted back and forth, trying to dislodge him but her arms were
pinned to her sides and he was laying on her legs. She hadn't
realized he was supporting most of his weight on his elbows until
he let her feel him fully. For a second she couldn't breathe, then
he was there surrounding her again like a protective male
cocoon.
"Stop wiggling like a fish. You're well and
truly caught and all that thrashing isn't making me less
interested."
Henry sounded more pleased than annoyed with
her attempts to free herself, which annoyed her, but Finn stilled
instantly anyway not wanting to encourage him further. She didn't
like forceful men. She liked artistic men who spoke gently, touched
gently, and lived gently.
"Good." He said, smile widening
Dean Wesley Smith, Kristine Kathryn Rusch
Martin A. Lee, Bruce Shlain