That was exactly what she'd thought, but she'd rather have her fingernails pulled out than admit it.
Punching in the number, he raked her with a blatant onceover that made her want to squirm. "I'll sleep on the sofa tonight."
The image of that long, hard body stretched out on her sofa flashed in her mind. As much as she didn't want to admit it, the' image intrigued her. He was such a difficult man, so uncompromising, that she found it hard to imagine him vulnerable in sleep.
Telling herself she was crazy to let her imagination—or her hormones—run amok, Addison turned on her .heel and headed for the linen closet. The past week had taken its toll on her emotions and obviously affected her ability to handle stress. Funny how it had affected her libido, she thought, disgusted. She was crazy to be thinking about a man like Randall Talbot in the physical sense. They were about as compatible as water and oil. "More like fire and gasoline," she mumbled as she opened the closet door.
He was standing in front of the fire, looking into the flames, when she returned to the living room lugging a comforter and sheet. She'd purposefully chosen pink, knowing it would grate against that macho facade he wore so well. Without sparing him a glance, she draped the sheet over the sofa and proceeded to tuck the edges into the cushions.
Satisfied with her work, she brushed her hands against her slacks and turned to face him. "I prefer to get an early start, if you don't mind—"
The intensity of his gaze stopped her cold-and told her more about his frame of mind than she wanted to know. He was standing so close she could smell the subtle scent of his aftershave, feel the heat and energy pouring off him. A pleasant alarm trilled through her body. She didn't date much, but knew enough about men to recognize lust when she saw it. The realization shook her all the way down to her toes. Not just because she saw that disconcerting light in his eyes, but because she knew that same light was in her own eyes as well.
His flannel shirt hung open, revealing a well-muscled chest covered with thick black hair. His belly was flat and rippled with muscle. The hair thickened slightly below his navel before disappearing into the waistband of low-rise jeans. Fleetingly, she wondered what that hard flesh would feel like under her fingertips. Was he as dangerous as he looked? Or was he the kind of man who used that hard facade to hide a heart that was every bit as vulnerable as hers?
Disturbed by the thoughts rushing through her, Addison broke eye contact and stepped back. How could she be thinking of that muscular chest when she should be thinking about getting her life, back?
His gun was lying on the coffee table looking out of place and menacing next to a crystal votive. She stared at it, wondering which was more dangerous at the moment, man or gun.
Only then did she realize she faced another kind of danger when it came to Randall Talbot. A danger that had nothing to do with masked men or guns—and everything to do with her heart.
"You should follow your instincts sometime, Ace," he said huskily. "Might be interesting for both of us."
"Animals follow their instincts." She met his gaze levelly despite the fact that her cheeks were on fire. "Human beings rely on intelligence."
One side of his mouth curved into an enigmatic smile. "I’ll try to remember that next time you look at me that way."
Shaken by his words, by her own reaction to them, Addison turned away and headed for the safety of her bedroom.
Chapter 10
The snow-covered peaks of the Rockies rose up out of the earth like ancient stone dinosaurs. Juniper, scrub, and bare-branched aspen jutted from the broken ridges, cradling patches of snow in their spindly boughs. The mountains had always been a place of escape for Randall. Even during that terrible last year with the NTSB, he'd made it a point to hike or camp in the mountains every chance he got. He liked to believe it was the tranquility of this endless expanse of rock and sky that had helped him hang on to his sanity as long as he had.
He felt stronger after nearly five months out of the field. Stronger, but not yet fully healed. He wasn't sure if he would ever recover fully. He wasn't sure a man ever came to terms with the kinds of horrors he'd seen.