Torn (Second Sight) by Hazel Hunter Page A

door. “Are you all right?”
    She jumped a little at the sound.  
    “I’m fine,” she said, quickly, tightening the towel around her and then slipping on a fresh set of gloves, though her hands trembled. “I’ll be right out.”
    Mac stood in the hallway, waiting for her. Though his eyes quickly went to the towel tucked in at her chest, his eyes quickly focused on her hands. Gently, he took them in his.
    “Since when does ‘fine’ include hands that shake?” he asked quietly. “You know, it’s all right not to be fine.”
    She looked down at their hands, trying not to cry again, but failing. He put a finger under her chin and lifted it.
    “I just got off the phone with Ben,” he said. “I told him about us.”
    She blinked at him and felt the tears slip down her cheeks.
    “You what?” she managed to get out.
    “He wasn’t happy about it,” Mac said, with a tight smile. “But he’s not actually my boss and he’s not going to say anything to my boss–though I will.”
    Isabelle had been about to protest.
    “Look,” Mac said, grasping her at the shoulders. “I’m not going to hide our relationship any longer. I don’t care what Ben thinks, or the FBI. You mean too much to me.”
    “But–”
    He put his index finger to her lips.
    “It’s done, Isabelle,” he said, the deeply blue-green eyes gazing calmly into hers. Now his smile was genuine. “And I’m glad.” His finger drifted lightly across her lips, then slowly back along her jaw, as he leaned toward her. “Aren’t you?”
    Even through the tears, she couldn’t help but smile at him.
    “Yes,” she breathed, as his hand slipped to the nape of her neck and his lips found hers.

    • • • • •

    Unlike the frantic collision of yesterday, Mac’s kiss was slow and soft. She closed her eyes to the feathery feeling of it, trying to put the awful images of the day behind her. His lips gently suckled hers but when they moved to her cheek, she knew he was kissing away the tears that continued to fall. The feel of it was so incredibly tender and nearly as devastating as his frenzied passion. And as his mouth slowly returned to hers, she realized her lower lip was quivering. Mac must have felt it too because his lips closed around it and his hands slid up her back and lightly held her close.
    There were so many sides to Mac: the agent in control; the all-male animal of passion; the profiling analyst; the gentle lover. The image of removing her gloves and touching his chest burst into her mind with a force that was like a blow. He’d told Ben about them.  
    Wasn’t that commitment?
    And as Mac’s tongue slowly stroked her lower lip, Isabelle saw with sudden clarity that it wasn’t Mac who was not ready for the reading.  
    It was her.  
    Who is the dark-haired woman who filled him with grief? Do I really want to know? Would knowing mean the end of this ?
    With a start, Isabelle realized that Mac was no longer kissing her and she quickly opened her eyes.
    “You’re tired,” he said lowly. “Maybe it’s time for bed.”
    “No,” she blurted out, louder than she’d intended. “I mean, yes .” She forced herself to stop and took a deep breath. “What I mean is that it’s time for bed but not to sleep.”

    • • • • •

    Inwardly, Mac kicked himself.  
    I should never have let Isabelle see the crime scene.  
    She was a civilian for god’s sake and he had somehow managed to overlook that. And he knew exactly how. Standing there with nothing but a towel on, it’d taken every bit of willpower he could muster not to just pick her up and carry her to the bedroom. But she was obviously shaken and for good reason. The pain in her eyes was clear.
    Without a word, he simply wound his arms around her petite frame, shorter than usual without the high heels, and held her to him. He stroked her silky hair as she lay her face on his chest and slipped her arms around his waist. He’d do anything to quell that pain. It