The Thrill of It All Read Free

nocturnal critter that called the night its own.
    A man’s voice sounded behind her. “You’re back.”
    True to form, Felicity shrieked, her head whipping around. She stared at a pair of denim-covered kneecaps, then her gaze followed long legs upward as she took in the new throb at her temples, the new rasp in her throat, and—she blinked a couple of times just to be sure—the new man in her life.
    “ You .” Fear evaporated. “It’s you.”
    The stranger’s shoulders twitched, as if she’d spooked him. “Me?”
    That’s right, she thought, now confused. He was a stranger—someone she’d never seen before, and one of those dark, reckless-looking types she’d always been careful to shun. Yet…
    Felicity put up a hand to hold her aching head, trying to make sense of this certain, deep-down recognition. “There’s something…I…” What there was, was no way to explain it, she realized, embarrassed heat washing over her face. “You said, ‘You’re back.’ I guess I, uh, thought you knew me.”
    Lame, but it was the only excuse her hazy brain provided.
    It seemed to satisfy him, though, because he lowered to a crouch beside her. “I meant you’re back with me. I’ve been waiting for you to open your eyes.”
    “What—” She broke off as she took in the sight over his shoulder. “My car.” It was nose-to-nose with some sort of black, heavy metal vehicle that belonged at an Iron Maiden concert or in a Terminator movie. Worse, her once sleekly built automobile now had the profile of a pedigreed Pekingese. “ My new car .”
    “And my old one,” the man added dryly.
    Felicity’s gaze moved back to his face, and her thoughts were derailed by another wave of that odd, undeniable familiarity. How did she know him? she wondered, attempting to sift through the muddle in her head. Had they met sometime before?
    His face was lean, with high cheekbones and deep outdoorsy brackets around his mouth. A breeze stirred the ends of his tangle of black hair and she could swear she remembered them brushing against her cheek.
    She shivered.
    His already grim expression deepened. “You should lie back down.” He reached out as if to help her, but she scooted away to avoid him.
    That was odd, too, because she could swear she already knew his touch. Her mind might not be clear at the moment, but her mind’s eye was 20/20. In it she could see his fingertips stroking her skin. Even now the ghost of their rasping caress seemed to linger on the vulnerable underside of her chin. Another shiver skittered over her flesh.
    His dark eyes missed nothing. “Lie down,” he commanded again.
    “I’m okay.” Or she would be, when she solved the puzzle. She’d feel more like herself once she could explain how she could know him and yet not know him at the same time.
    Trying to come up with an answer, she continued to study his face. With his hard-edged features and overlong hair, he looked too uncivilized for someone she might have dated. Absolutely nothing like the urbane, blond-and-blue-eyed Drew, who she’d set her sights on not long after their first meeting—persuaded by everything about him, from his single-minded dedication to the job to the European way in which he held his fork.
    By contrast, this man looked like the kind who would bite the hand that fed him.
    Shivering again, she huddled beneath the leather jacket hanging over her shoulders, pulling the zippered edges closer together. Stroking its sleek softness absently, it dawned on her that while she was still in her evening dress the jacket wasn’t hers. It must be his.
    The thought pierced the fog in her head, and she finally noticed that his pale-colored dress shirt wasstreaked with black grease and ripped at one shoulder. Her eyes widened. “My God, what happened to you ? Are you hurt?”
    “I’m fine.” He looked down at the ruined shirt. “This happened after the accident.”
    The accident. The fog cleared more and her gaze jumped to their cars,