Honor felt abandoned and trapped. She sat frozen, not daring to glance in Judd’s direction. Would he approach her now that Steve had left? This wasn’t Mexico. He couldn’t just drag her out of here, she reassured herself. Then she tried another swallow of her drink, seeking courage.
For five long minutes she sat, refusing to let her gaze be drawn to the corner where Judd was seated. They had to be the longest five minutes of her life. At any moment she expected to feel herself seized in the raven’s talons and carried away. Dressed in a soft crepe off-the-shoulder dress of chrome-yellow she felt very vulnerable. A wide purple band emphasized her slender waist and the bright color combination made her feel suddenly very conspicuous. She would have given anything if she’d only decided on a darker, less vibrant dress that evening. How could you hide in the shadows when you were wearing something this exotic?
Damn it! Why did she feel she had to hide? She tried another sip of liquid courage and told herself there was nothing Judd could do to her as long as she stayed close to Steve.
Which brought up the rather dismaying [_question _]of what Judd did intend to do to her. He hadn’t been pleased yesterday morning when she’d walked out of that motel room, but he’d made no real move to stop her. Not then. He’d been firmly under control, as usual. What had made him decide to come after her? Perhaps birds of prey simply didn’t like the idea of having their victims walk away without permission.
Was that it? Was he there for vengeance? Was that another of the rather primitive emotions Judd had in his limited repertoire? Possessiveness? God! She was going to drive herself crazy wondering what he was thinking and when he would pounce. Her fingers trembled around the glass in her hand, and, unable to resist any longer, she cast a quick, furtive glance toward him.
He hadn’t moved. But he was still watching her with that gleaming, utterly ruthless expression. When their eyes met he raised his glass in a small salute but made no [_move _]to get up and approach her.
Anger blazed in her as she allowed herself to stare at him. Who the hell did he think he was to intimidate her this way? She was not going to sit there and wait for him to come and get her. A slow fury began to replace the nervous dread she had been experiencing and she snatched her eyes away from his emotionless expression to glance around for Steve.
Melbourne was at the bar gathering up a tray of peanuts and a couple of drinks. He saw her look at him and smiled, starting back through the crowd toward her.
When he reached the table she leaned forward impulsively, her fingers touching his jacket sleeve. “Steve, I’m awfully sorry, but would you excuse me for a moment, please? Someone I know is sitting on the other side of the room and I really should run over and say hello.”
“Well, sure.” Steve glanced around questioningly but didn’t seem to spot Judd. I’ll be glad to come with you. Or feel free to invite whoever it is over for a drink with us…”
“That’s all right This won’t take but a minute. I’ll be right back.”
Resolutely Honor got to her feet, automatically picking up her small clutch, and turned to make her way toward Judd’s table. In that moment she couldn’t have said where she got the nerve to make the first move. It was not normally in the nature of the quarry to confront the hunter. But it seemed to Honor that she’d been doing far too much running lately.
From across the room he sat watching as she moved toward him. His glittering jet eyes never left her face. Honor felt as if she were walking toward disaster but she refused to turn and flee from it now. She could tell nothing by the expression on his face. His features were set in harshly carved bones that betrayed nothing of his inner thoughts. Or perhaps that wasn’t quite fair, she told herself wryly. Perhaps that mask of his was the perfect expression of his personality: hard, cold, implacable, emotionless.
A foot away from his table she stopped, calling on all her inner strength to handle the coming scene. “Good evening, Judd. What a coincidence seeing you here tonight. Going to be in town long?” Her voice was too light, too brittle, but it was under control.
“No.”
“Another of your famous monosyllabic answers? A man of few words, aren’t you, Judd?” She didn’t want to acknowledge the way even a single word from him stirred her nerves. Honor kept her head high and her eyes as cold as possible.
“Is your friend a better conversationalist?” Judd asked far too politely.
“Infinitely!”
“Were you planning on going home with him tonight?*
“Yes!” she lied passionately.
“Have you told him about me?”
“No!”
“You’re starting to talk in monosyllables yourself” Judd pointed out mildly.
“Judd, what are you doing here?”
“Watching you flirt with that guy in the three-piece suit.”
“Are you drunk?” she challenged suddenly, eyeing his glass.
“Straight tonic water. Tastes awful.” He took another sip.
“Well, that’s a switch from the tequila, I suppose,” she muttered nastily.
He shrugged. “I never drink before flying.”
“You’re planning on flying tonight?” she asked, feeling the first slight flickerings of relief. “You’re going to leave Phoenix this evening?”
“Yes.”
“Then you [_are _]just here on business?” She didn’t quite believe that, but in that moment she wanted to believe it.
“In a matter of speaking.”
“Judd—”
“Shall we go, Honor? It’s getting late and we’ve got a long flight ahead of us ” Judd set down the glass with an air of finality.
Honor sucked in her breath and automatically fell back a step as he raised his unreadable dark eyes to hers. Except that they weren’t entirely unreadable now, she realized in shock. She had thought as she’d crossed the room toward him that his expression was the same emotionless mask she had first seen in Mexico. When he’d spoken to her there had been that familiar, cool tone in his words. But quite abruptly she realized that there was something new and brilliantly dangerous in his dark gaze.
Judd Raven was barely in control of himself tonight. A dark, savage flame of fury burned in him and she was the focus of it.
Honor backed away another step, other small bits of evidence forcing themselves on her attention. She saw the way his knuckles were almost white as he gripped the glass of tonic water. The brackets at the edges of his mouth were taut lines of menace. Thee was an unfamiliar rigidity in his lean, coordinated frame, as if the force of his anger were an electrical charge.