“Going to protect me?” “Yes. No. I don’t know,” she said, her stomach churning. Though her core still pulsed with the echoes of pleasure, all the joy had leached away, replaced by worry. Poison? Her raccoon was frantic to build a safe nest and hide. Hide him. “But I just think, if you aren’t alone, maybe . . .” “Thanks,” he said, with that sweet, flashing smile that lit his otherwise cool, chiseled face with its jagged scar. They didn’t talk at all as they hurried the back way to Aunt Julia’s hotel, but she sensed him . . . not stiffening. She saw absolutely nothing but the familiar Primrose, seen all her life, but somehow the man walking next to her had gone all stalky. His head was up, his eyes narrowed. Geez, he looked, well, dangerous. And she stupidly thought she could protect him? The hotel was a two-story building with rooms opening off a long balcony, the single rooms upstairs, the family suites downstairs.
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