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Her touch, especially when it was so impersonal, should not be affecting him this way. He’d apparently pushed himself way beyond his limits.
    He tried to focus his energy on finding the right words for the conversation he knew they had to have, but instead he found himself staring at her bent head. Atthe bold colors the fluorescent light brought out in her dark brown hair, the squared-off shape of her shoulders, the knobby points of her knees under her sweats, the scarred fingers of her work-roughened hands, the taut thighs his hand rested on when she reached for a butterfly strip. No womanly curves, nothing overtly tender or soft, certainly nothing sexy. No reason at all to feel the sudden, unmistakable surge of blood that centered between his legs.
    “It’s not too deep,” she said, “but you’ll get another scar for your collection.” She rubbed the last piece of tape, affixing it firmly to the back of his hand, then lifted her head. “I think you have almost as many as—” Her words stopped as their gazes collided.
    Bare inches separated his mouth from hers. The total shock of that thought had him dropping his gaze to her lips before he could even think about it. Her mouth was wide and generous, her lips full, soft, and inviting, everything the rest of her wasn’t.
    Jarrett had no idea where the need came from, but it was as powerful as it was unexplainable. He even began to lower his head to hers before he caught himself.
    Neither of them moved. He found himself fascinated by the way her throat worked when she swallowed, then his gaze lifted to her eyes. What he found there was so intense, it felt tangible. And it wasn’t desire.
    It was fear.
    That brought him back more sharply than a hard smack to the face. He abruptly moved away until his back rested on the cold porcelain tank. Just as abruptly, he knew he shouldn’t have stopped. He should be ruthlesslyexploiting the sizzling tension that had risen between them, not finding a way to defuse it. He needed a weak spot, a vulnerable point, and except for her help in taking care of him, she wasn’t revealing any. Until now.
    He studied her as she studied him. The initial surprise was gone from her eyes and the fear had been carefully masked. But it was there, just under the surface, waiting for him.
    He lifted his bandaged hand to his taped ribs, then nodded to his thigh. “Tell me, do you always keep such a large quantity of medical supplies on hand?”
    She continued to watch him for a moment, as if trying to determine what new strategy he’d devised. Jarrett didn’t blame her; he’d trained her to do just that. But it didn’t stop him from suddenly hating it.
    She turned away to gather up the remaining bandages. “You never know when you might need bandaging up, I guess,” she said, her voice even and totally unconvincing. “I’m not exactly within walking distance of a drugstore.”
    “You said you keep bandages in your studio. I didn’t know being an artist was so dangerous.” As soon as he said it, Jarrett knew the magnitude of his mistake.
    Rae’s eyes narrowed. The calculated control that had been there a moment earlier was swiftly replaced with righteous anger and what he’d have sworn was the hurt look of betrayal.
    “Your spies must be slipping, McCullough.” She stood and wrapped her bundle in the bloodstained towel before depositing it in the sink. “I work with metals and gems. Blowtorches and sledgehammers.” She moved tohis good side and bent forward. “Sometimes I get burned.”
    He turned to her. “Gannon, I—”
    “Brace your arm on my shoulder and I’ll lever you up,” she interrupted. “Ready?”
    “Rae, wait a minute, I—”
    She turned on him so fast that he didn’t have time to move away, not that he had anywhere to go. He was completely at her mercy—and not a little disturbed to find himself intrigued by the possibility.
    “One word,” she whispered fiercely, “and I swear I’ll leave you in here all