“Do you think I’m a con artist or a victim?”

“I think you’re a woman who has been hurt.” No denying that. “One of my team members, Wade Monroe, is contacting the Montgomery family. We’ll get DNA from them and find out—”

“If I’m Jessica.” There was hope in the words. Enough hope to break his heart.

Gabe nodded.

“When will we know?”

It would take a few days, even with the strings that he could pull. “As soon as possible,” he said, not wanting to give her a specific timetable.

“Thank you.” Then, just like that, she was across the car, giving him a tight hug. “Thank you.”

His arms wrapped around her, an instinctive response. She smelled faintly of flowers, a sweet scent that teased his nose, and her body was soft against his.

She tried to pull away, as if realizing what she’d just done.

For an instant he was tempted to hold her, to keep her close.

She’s a client. Focus.

He let her go, but his body ached.

“I … um … I should get inside.”

Yes, she should. While he was still clutching tight to his control. The control that said he shouldn’t push her. Shouldn’t want her so much. Not when she’d already been hurt so badly.

Her fingers reached for the door.

“Let me,” he said, voice rumbling, and Gabe climbed from the Jag. In seconds he was on the passenger side, opening her door for her. She rose, and her body brushed against his.

He stepped back. Distance. He seriously needed to put some distance between then. But even with some fast steps back, he could still smell that light and sexy scent that clung to her body. And he still wanted her.

“Your shrink asked me a lot of questions about you,” Eve told him as she stood temptingly close.

Gabe inclined his head. “I’m sure—”

“I think she wanted to know why I respond so much to you.”

Oh, hell, she’d just said … He cleared his throat even as part of his body surged in quick response to her. “It’s a tense situation, you’re—”

“You don’t look at me as if I’m a victim.”

He stopped talking.

“I mean, you know what I am, but you still look at me and seem to just see me … as a woman.”

“Others see you the same way.” Doc Tyler sure did. Bastard.

“It’s different with you,” she murmured as she stepped even closer to him. Her head had tilted back so she could look into his eyes. “I don’t know what I’ve felt for other men before.”

Why did the idea of others have his body knotting with tension?

“But I know that when I see you, I want.” A hushed confession. “I just … I needed to tell you that.”

And he needed to make his self-control a hell of a lot stronger. Her lips were just inches from his, and he wanted her mouth beneath his. Wanted her lips open. Needed to taste her.

“You’re the first man I’ve wanted since I opened my eyes in that hospital.”

He could actually feel his control splintering. Client. Cli—

“You probably don’t want me. I—I might not be your type.”

Now her gaze had fallen, as if in embarrassment. Had she really just asked if she was his type? She was probably every damn man’s type.

“But you make me feel normal again, so I had to tell you—”

His fingers curved under her chin. “Eve …”

Her smile was a little too big. Too bright. “I don’t think I can handle anything else right now, I’m …” She pulled away. Stumbled onto the sidewalk. “I just wanted to tell you how I felt,” she told him again.

Then she walked into the shelter, her steps hurried. As if she were running.

From him.

He stared after her. She wanted him.

And she was so fucking beyond his reach.