(Rainshadow, #2) Deception Cove by Jayne Castle

from crisis to crisis. She ricocheted between bursts of adrenaline and fury at her own inability to escape Ethel Whitcomb’s net. There had been too many nights when she had slammed her fist into her pillow, which were nights of bad dreams and cold sweats. Too many useless crying jags in the shower. Too many times when she had been forced to vanish at a moment’s notice. Too many times when she walked the floor until dawn with Houdini in her arms, searching for a way out.
    Everything within her had been precariously balanced on high-alert status ever since she had run from the man who had tried to kill her. The edgy fire of Drake’s kiss sent her over the edge.
    She clutched at his shoulders and threw herself into the embrace with ferocious abandon. She was frantic for release, any kind of release. She needed something, and in that moment she did not care if it came in the form of an act of violence or an act of passion. She just wanted to be free of her invisible prison, if only for a short time.
    If Drake was startled or taken aback by her fierce response, he did not show it. There were a few seconds—the span of a couple of fast heartbeats—during which he seemed to be adjusting to the unexpected development in their short acquaintance. And then, like a driver who thought he was going to be getting behind the wheel of a compact car but discovers that he is piloting a turbo-rezzed sports car instead, he took back control of the kiss and floored the accelerator.
    With a low, husky groan, he whipped her around and pushed her up against the nearest concrete pillar, caging her in. He deepened the kiss, giving her the kind of wild, over-the-top intensity that she wanted and needed. She fought him for the embrace with a passion that bordered on violence.
    Until that moment she would not have believed that she was capable of such a response to a man. She could feel the hard shape of Drake’s heavy arousal and knew that she was not going into the wildfire alone.
    Drake finally broke free of her mouth to kiss her throat. He flattened one hand against the pillar, leaning into her, and started to unfasten the front of her jacket. She found his belt buckle with her fingertips and fumbled with it until she got it undone.
    The sound of an approaching car shattered the overcharged atmosphere.
    Drake surfaced first. His fingers stilled on her jacket. He wrenched his mouth free and rested his damp forehead against hers.
    “Damn,” he said. He was breathing hard. He used his hand on the pillar to push himself away from her. Quickly he refastened his belt. “Wrong place, wrong time.”
    “Good grief,” Alice whispered.
    She was stunned. Her legs were shaky. She was breathing too fast, and her senses were sparking and flashing, leaving her thoroughly disoriented.
    A car turned the corner and entered the aisle in which the rental was parked, the driver cruising for a free space. Drake bundled Alice into the front seat, closed the door, and went quickly around to the driver’s side. He got behind the wheel.
    Together they both sat silently, staring straight ahead through the windshield, as the innocent sedan moved slowly past the rear of the rental.
    When the sedan disappeared around the corner, Drake made no move to start the car. Instead he continued to focus on the view of the shadowed garage. Alice did the same. Her brain seemed to have gone blank.
    “Are we going to talk about this?” Drake asked evenly.
    Alice took a deep breath. “Probably better if we don’t.”
    “Maybe, but sooner or later we’re going to have to talk about it.”
    “Stress,” she said. “It’s been a tough year.”
    “That’s your excuse,” he said. “What’s mine? I was about to have sex with you in a parking garage.”
    “I take it you don’t do that on a regular basis?”
    “No,” he said. He gave that some thought. “Not that I’m against sex in a garage, or anywhere else, for that matter.”
    The laughter welled up from out of