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what it is?” he asked with just awhisper of humor but it was enough for her to know that the worsthad passed. “Either way, ye’ve been a balm tae my soul,Sorcha.”

“Gee, I’ve never been anyone’s balm before,”she whispered in an awed tone, hoping to banish the shadowslingering in his eyes. It seemed to work.

His blue eyes brightened at that, and thetension in his expression eased. Claire felt the pad of his thumbcaressing her cheek tenderly. “And what am I?”

Temptation? Salvation? Claire shook herhead. “You are a vacuum.”

“A vacuum?”

“It’s a …”

“I ken what a vacuum is, lass. I only wonderhow it might apply tae a person.”

“Oh, well, that’s easy,” she said with awinsome smile. “You have sucked all the anger right out of me. Ihadn’t realized how angry I was with the world at large andeveryone in it, but you’ve helped me to see that and send it allaway. Admittedly, it lingered on the surface there for a while, butnow I’m all cleaned out.”

“Is that so?” he asked, raising an arrogantbrow. “I may provoke ye tae anger again.”

“Nope, I won’t let you. This is now ananger-free zone.”

Hugh released a dry chuckle. “I doubt that.Ye are easily roused.”

Yes, Iam, Claire thought, and Hugh must haveintuited her more lascivious thought in some way because his browraised slightly. Suddenly Claire realized that she was stillstanding in the warmth of his embrace as naturally as if shebelonged there. She was locked in his arms with his hard thighspressed against hers, his broad chest against her breasts. With herhead tilted back to look at him, she was arched against every inchof him. The desire that she had fought against and denied assailedher once more, but this time Claire let it flow over her, savoringthe feel of her heart fluttering in her chest, the shaky intake ofbreath, and even nerves that made her hands tremble as they slid uphis muscular back.

Hugh’s fingers tightened in her hair,forcing her head back even more until his lips were just inchesfrom hers, but his body was taut, as if relaxing would allow hismouth to fall on hers against his bidding.

“I’m not feeling an ounce of gratitude, Iswear it,” she whispered. “Are you?”

“Nae,” he murmured huskily. “Nary abit.”

But still he did not kiss her, and thenClaire remembered their bargain. Bringing an arm between them, sheskimmed her palm along his rough jaw and around the back of hisneck before urging him down as she rose high on her toes. The softbrush of her lips against his set them tingling immediately, and aquiver followed, coursing down her body and answered by his. Howcould she have thought to deny this? Something so powerful wasunusual, too rare to brush aside. It was meant to be seized, anopportunity meant to be taken.

“I’m instigating,” she whispered against hislips. “Please kiss me, Hugh.”

And there in the glow of the roaring fire,Hugh bent Claire back over his arm with a low growl and lit a firein them both. His lips moved across hers tenderly at first, as iftesting her response, but Claire parted her lips and urged him todeepen the kiss, drawing in his lips as her tongue flicked againstthem. With a groan, Hugh swept his tongue against hers, duelingskillfully, only to withdraw before his mouth covered hers oncemore.

Hugh drew away slowly, his kiss softeninguntil he brushed one last tender kiss across her lips and liftedhis head. Brushing her hair back from her temples, he looked downat Claire with a warm smile that went all the way to his blue eyes,and she couldn’t help but return the gesture, lifting her face foranother kiss, but Hugh eased back.

“Now that that is all settled, I believe itis time for luncheon,” he said smoothly as he drew away, much toClaire’s disappointment. Who was changing the subject now?

Parted from his warm body, Claire felt achill wash over her and waited for regrets to do the same. Forguilt to take her in its own icy grip.

The only regret she had was that their kisshad ended too soon.

Phil Jameson strode into the stark controlroom of mounted monitors with ill-concealed impatience. “Where arewe? Talk to me people.”

“All the animals have been retrieved andcontained with minimal injury.”

The agent waved an impatient hand. “And theothers? What have you got?”

“We got a retrieval team setting up near theCanadian border north of Spokane.”

“Which one?”

“Eyewitness reports identify it as AnomalyX20.”

Jameson grunted. “ETA?”

“Twenty-four to forty-eight hours.Tops.”

“And the other?”

There was palpable hesitation among all thejunior agents at the question. “Nothing on Anomaly J42, sir. Noeyewitness reports as yet. Blood tests were inconclusive.”

“I found her, sir!” Marshall, parked infront of one bank of monitors, announced happily, tapping a seriesof buttons to bring up surveillance footage on one of the largermonitors and pausing it to freeze the image of a car in the frame.A sigh of relief exhaled simultaneously from the other underlings.“It’s Claire Manning. We got her car off a traffic camera inSeattle north of the airport.”

“Is J42 with her?” Jameson barked.

Nichols followed Jameson into thesurveillance room and studied the monitors. “Are you still pursuingthis, Jameson? I thought we decided that Claire Manning wasn’t asuspect.”

“You decided,” Jameson told his INSCOM counterpart. “I have my ownthoughts on the matter.”

“Your gut,” Nichols said dryly, sipping fromhis coffee as Jameson pinned him with a scowl. “I’m telling you, weshould be out scouting the area instead of pursuing this bullshit.Your J42 is either hiding or dead.”

Jameson ran a frustrated hand through hishair. He’d had an entire detail working night and day to trackClaire Manning but still had no solid proof that she was evenharboring the anomaly—Jameson could hardly think of him any otherway. He had seen the video from Fielding’s lab, had seen the thingthat had escaped. It was a beast, a terror. There was no reason atall to assume that Mrs. Manning had voluntarily aided its escape.No significant proof that she was being coerced.

But there was no proof she hadn’t aided it,either, and his gut said she had, for whatever reason. There hadbeen no sign of the escapee at all, despite Nichols’s “scout thearea”

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