The Heart of the Jungle, стр. 33
Chris blushed, realizing that his shock had been so apparent. He'd have to work on his poker face.
Chris noticed Curt's eyes lingering on his face. He felt like he was being sized up. The frank appraisal made him want to cower behind Jason. "No wonder Bradley's on your ass. I'd sure like a dose of your luck in finding traveling companions."
Chris's cheeks burned, and he looked quickly down at the floor. As if sensing his discomfort, Jason moved protectively closer. "Chris is a client," he explained. "And Bradley is the least of our worries."
"I'm clearly in the wrong line of work," Curt said, extending his hand in Chris's direction. "Don't worry about me. I'm harmless. Mouthy, but harmless. Curt Marcus, by the way."
The handshake Chris offered was perfunctory. He disengaged as quickly as possible, and focused his attention back on the floor. "Chris James," he muttered.
"It's a pleasure," Curt said. Chris could still feel Curt's eyes upon him, and he shuffled backward a step.
Curt seemed to sense that he'd crossed a line. He cleared his throat and said, "Well, let's get you two checked in."
It took only a few moments for the young man to secure a room for them. As he handed the key to Jason, he smiled and winked at Chris.
"It's separate beds."
"Thanks, Curt. I owe you one," Jason said, imposing himself between Chris and Curt's bold innuendos.
Once inside the elevator, Chris took a deep breath, and the tension left his shoulders.
"Sorry about Curt," Jason apologized. "He has this thing with subtlety."
"Yeah. He has none."
"We grew up together," Jason explained. "He's a little forward, but he's a good guy."
"Were you two ever...?"
"No," Jason said with a laugh. "I prefer discretion, and Curt would have needed to scream it from the rooftops. Besides, he's always felt like a pain in the neck younger brother. I guess I can't really blame him for being so bold, though."
Chris blushed and stared at the floor. "I felt like a piece of meat."
Jason laughed again. "You really aren't used to this, are you?"
Chris shook his head, wishing that the elevator would get them to their floor already.
Finally, a chime announced their arrival on the tenth floor, and the doors parted. Chris stepped quickly into the hallway, feeling the need to escape the uncomfortable turn the conversation had taken. A quick glance in Jason's direction reminded him that there was a dangerous attraction brewing between them, and he wasn't yet willing to face it head-on.
They had no trouble finding their room, and Chris was relieved that Curt had been honest when he assured them their lodgings had separate beds.
He glanced at the digital clock and groaned. It was nearly two in the morning. "It's way past my bedtime," he said, sitting down on the bed. His eyes felt like they had sand in them, and he was starting to develop a headache.
"You'll have lots of time to rest tomorrow. I'm going to poke around and see what I can find out about Sylvia Hopkins. And you"---
Jason flopped onto his own bed, placed his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes---"you have to stay in the room."
"Wait a minute---"
"No arguments," Jason said, rolling onto his side and looking at Chris seriously. "We're playing in Brunner's sandbox now. He has connections in this city. If he gets tipped off that you're here, that would be very bad."
"You're the one who had a run-in with the knife," Chris countered.
"You're in just as much danger as I am."
"I am a trained professional. I know how to take care of myself in situations like that."
Chris opened his mouth to speak, and Jason raised a hand, cutting off any further argument. "You're in strung-out shape. You need the downtime."
"You think I'm going to be able to rest knowing that you're out there with your neck exposed?"
"Chris, this isn't a game. These people play for keeps. I'd much rather you were back home in Seattle, but I need you here where I can look out for you. You're just going to have to trust me. You're going to have to stay put."
Chris wanted to argue, but he just didn't have the strength for it.
There was no denying Jason's logic, anyway. Instead of pressing the point, he stood and walked into the bathroom. He's right. What the hell would I do if someone attacked me? He had never been in a life-threatening situation before. It didn't make him feel any better about having to sequester himself in the hotel room, though. What was he going to do while Jason was out roaming around? Sit here and worry?
He flipped on the shower and stripped.
Damn him. Chris stepped into the shower. He let the hot water pour over him. Why couldn't Jason Kingsley have remained the conceited jerk he'd met just a few days ago? Why did he have to turn out to be so complex, so compelling? Why did he have to have sexy eyes that made Chris feel like a foolish teenager again? And why was he struggling to control the urge to abandon all of his good sense where Jason Kingsley was concerned?
He allowed the water to run over his face, and he gritted his teeth against the turmoil.
Why couldn't his life ever be made up of simple choices?
After he had been in the hot shower for a long while, exhaustion overwhelmed him. He switched the water off and stepped out. The hot water had eased his travel-weary muscles, if not the persistent frustration and confusion that danced dizzy pirouettes through his troubled mind.
He toweled off, slipped back into his underwear and T-shirt, and turned off the bathroom light.
As he rounded the corner into the room, he stopped short.
Jason had removed his clothes and was asleep atop the covers. In the scant light filtering in through the heavy draperies, Chris could see every plane and angle that composed his lithe frame. His body was