All these weird, gut-clenching feelings kept slamming into him when he looked at her. The lust he understood, could even embrace, if it wasn’t for this case they were working together. But he wanted to sit her down and get her life story. He wanted to know what had driven her to become an arson investigator. He wanted to know her favorite foods, movies and books. He wanted to tuck her into bed and watch those shrewd, expressive eyes close in sleep.
Obviously through exploring the room, she faced him. “You’ve been with me more than Ben. Do I look exhausted?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me to lie down?”
“It would piss me off, so I knew it would piss you off. I’ll see you at dinner.” He backed out, closing the door as he went, wondering how he could possibly already have such a strong sense of her.
And wondering why he was walking away instead of running.
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