Eyes of Betrayal by Pat Rasey

Author Name: Patricia A. Rasey

Book Title: Eyes of Betrayal

Genre: Romantic Suspense

Publisher: Amber Quill Press

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Format: ebook, Paperback

BLURB:
Two long years have passed since Marcus "Snake" Gallego left behind Henry County and Detective LeAnne McVeigh, leaving her to mourn the fact he had ridden into the sunset without her. But when he finally returns to her Ohio town, he isn't alone. Snake has brought along a friend, Egan Tate, who looks the epitome of evil. And if things couldn't possibly get worse, her best friend, the good doctor Whitney Montgomery, has her eyes set on Tate. When a vicious murder suddenly stirs the relatively peaceful community to turmoil, a murder reminiscent of the killings that plagued the county several years earlier, LeAnne begins to wonder about this mystery man Snake has befriended. Has a copycat killer truly emerged, or does Henry County have a ghost on its hands?

*Eyes of Betrayal is the sequel to Kiss of Deceit.*

EXCERPT:
Tate sat up and tipped up her chin with the pad of his callused thumb. "You and I having sex? Do you find me that repulsive? Am I an ogre? What?"
 

"Re—Repulsive? O—Ogre?" Whit stumbled over the words. How in the world could this man ever think a woman would find him anything but pleasing to the eye? What she wouldn't give to be able to set aside her reputation for even an hour and do as he had suggested. "You have to be kidding."

"You seem to be doing a lot of double-talking, Doc. Do you or don't you?"

Whit knew she should say that she found him totally distasteful and lacking in the manly department, that she wouldn't sleep with him if he were the last man on earth. She certainly didn't need Egan Tate thinking she desired him. Heavens, she hungered for him like a woman on a diet eyeing a piece of chocolate cake. But a man like him would not give up easily should he ever decide to make her his conquest. And truth be told, it wouldn't take much nudging from him to break down her resistance. She wanted him all right. That much was evident in the numbness that settled between her thighs.

But something in his eyes made it impossible for her lips to form the lie. "You're not repulsive, Tate. On the contrary, any woman would probably go to the ends of the earth to do with you what you've suggested we already have."

His cheeks turned up with a smug smile. She mentally kicked herself. "Really?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it."

His gaze locked with hers. He used his forefinger to slowly trace her jaw line. "You know, Doc, there's only one woman I want right now. And I'd just about walk over hot coals to get her."

A shiver passed down her spine. "Maybe we should get back to the matter at hand…" She cleared her throat. "Our story."

His expression turned wicked, tempting. "I was thinking maybe you and I ought to practice a bit. After all, we want it believable."

Whit shook her head and chuckled. "This is insane. You and I, it can't happen. I mean, I'll tell the sheriff I'm your alibi because I don't believe you killed that woman and I really don't see any other way out for you. But us?" Her fingers indicated the two of them.

"We aren't going to happen…ever."

"Don't be so sure, Doc." Tate leaned so close she could feel his breath, feather light, spanning her cheeks. "I'm pretty used to getting what I want."

Her heart thudded; blood pulsed through her veins. Lightheadedness set in. Had she not been sitting, she surely would have swayed on her feet. Dear God, she couldn't be contemplating actually giving in to her yearnings. Whit placed her palm against his slightly whiskered cheek, giving him all the coaxing he needed.

He grasped her nape and pulled her forward, slanting his mouth over hers. The caress started almost teasing in nature before animalistic nature took over and his free arm snaked around her back, pulling her flush against his hard chest.

He smelled of man and leather, causing her to groan, giving him the opening he sought. His tongue plunged into her mouth, stealing all sane thought from her. She had been kissed much the same before, but never had it driven her beyond the limits of control.

Part of her wanted to push him onto the cushions, rip off his clothes, and ride him until there was no tomorrow. Never had she made love to a man like him, no starchy collar or hundred-dollar bottle of cologne. Tate probably didn't even own one. Her gut feeling knew no good would come of a union between them. But at the moment, she no longer cared.

Whit entwined her fingers in his dark hair as she allowed her tongue to mate with his. To hell with morals and the judgmental community. She ached to be touched. Thought she just might die if he didn't. God help her, she wanted him more than she had ever wanted another man.

The hand resting on the small of her back slipped beneath her blazer and silk shirt, stopping just beneath the closure of her brassiere, scorching her flesh. Suddenly, internal combustion didn't seem so far-fetched a theory. His fingers moved to the hook and eye and pinched the closure. It easily slipped free, causing her to gasp.

A loud rattle came from the front of the office, startling her as though someone had dowsed her with a bucket of ice water. She jumped from Tate's embrace, earning her a grunt of frustration. He ran a shaking hand through his hair and blasphemed as she redid her bra. In no time, they would have wound up a tangled mass of flesh.

Whit walked to the door and peered into the dim lobby, the only illumination coming from the lone nightlight. A dark figure stood at the door, hand over his eyes, trying to look through the heavy glass doors. Thank the good Lord Karen had locked the entrance upon leaving for the night.

Tate appeared at her side and swore a string of curses that would have embarrassed a drunken sailor.

"You know him?" Whit whispered, although the man outside likely would not have heard had she talked in a normal tone.

Tate grasped her shoulder and roughly pulled her back into the office, shoving her against the cold white wall. Whit felt the jar clear to her bones. "Unfortunately," he ground out.

"You're scaring me, Tate. Who is he?"

"You should be scared, Doc. In fact, very scared. My past has just come calling in the form of a man called Psych."

"And that's supposed to mean something…?"

"Psych—short for Psycho. And trust me, he more than earned that title."

***
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