His fingers kneaded her gently, her fingers closed over his, and he madea low sound of arousal in his throat as she increased the pressure. Erratic, irrational emotion. Thousands of them. His nostrils flared.
There was still no sign of Fletcher, and with the exception ofpatrol cars, the ground search was being pulled in because of theextreme cold. He pulled Geist's notes in front of himand flipped through the pages. The door was open, the office occupied. The thoughts and impressions zoomed across her brain, too many, toofast.
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