One Blazing Night. Jo Leigh

      He realized he’d been absently stroking her wrist when he felt her pulse leap. She pulled her arm back and he let go.

      “Half an hour,” he said. “That’s not too bad. Right? Then you can go back to work.”

      She closed her eyes, her long lashes brushing the tops of her smooth pink cheeks. “Fine,” she said, as if he’d asked her for a huge favor. “First lesson.” Turning to face the living room wall, she said, “Call Clark.”

      Instantly, a monitor graphic appeared on the wall just to the right of the curved big-screen TV. The monitor was done so well it was difficult to believe it wasn’t three-dimensional.

      “Yeah?” Clark’s voice was clear and irritated sounding as Clark removed his glasses and squinted at them. The guy looked almost the same as he had back at MIT.

      “I’ll be a half hour longer than I planned.”

      “Okay.”

      “I don’t have any appointments, right?”

      “Right. But don’t tell me you’re going to make it up later, because you really have to get some sleep. Pop a Xanax, do some yoga. Whatever it takes.”

      “Fine. I’ll drug myself to sleep tonight.”

      “Good.” Clark’s gaze shifted and he gave Matt a brief nod, then turned to Sam. “I’ve got that thing I’m working on,” he said, pointing at his desk.

      “Go,” she said. “End call.”

      Matt got the impression Clark didn’t like that Matt was keeping her from work. “I was going to say hey.”

      “Next time. Jeez. He’s worse than my mother. Who loves him to death, of course.”

      “I think that was the most I ever heard him talk. But you guys are cool, right?”

      “Yes,” she said, the hesitation clear in her voice. “We’re a finely tuned machine. We just got a new assistant, Tina. She’s bright but still learning.”

      Matt’s mind lingered on the other man. “Anything happening with you and Clark?”

      “What do you mean?”

      “Is it all about work, or is there something romantic—”

      “With Clark?” Sam’s eyes widened. “Ew. No. He’s like a brother.”

      “Just asking.” Pleased with her reaction, Matt smiled. Although, what did he care? He liked Clark, and if he and Sam had hooked up, it would’ve been a good thing. So what the hell—

      “Do you want a tour or not?”

      “Lead on.”

      “So, this is the living room. If you want a fire, just tell it to turn on, and it will. You can use any wall in the house for a call, but be careful. Someone accidentally made a call from the shower, so...”

      He hadn’t expected her to stop walking, and they nearly collided. He put a steadying hand at the small of her back.

      She jumped at the contact, then stiffened. “Sorry,” she murmured.

      “My fault,” he said. “You okay?” She nodded and visibly relaxed. He lowered his hand, distracted by what was happening around them. The walls on either side of the fireplace had turned from white to violet. When he turned around, he realized the walls in the foyer were also shades of purple. It was fascinating. “Is that your technology?”

      “The colors? Yeah. It’s in all the rooms.”

      “What determines the color change?”

      She cleared her throat. “The walls contain sensors that read the temperature of the person or people in the room. The sensors also pick up a lot of other things, like breathing and walking patterns, tonal qualities. They still need some refinement, but almost all the gizmos here do.”

      “That’s incredible.” Matt turned slowly, taking everything in. “I can already see how effective these kinds of walls could be. In high-risk situations, in hospitals—heck, in homes and hotels. This is a big deal, Sammy. Same with the monitors. The potential is unlimited.”

      “They’re all just prototypes. But you’ve probably stayed in some of the best hotels in the world. You’ll let me know how this compares, yes?”

      He nodded as she led him into the high-end kitchen for a second time. He found himself only half listening as she explained something about ordering food, but he figured it didn’t matter—he had the brochure; he’d figure it out. He wasn’t here for the whiz-bang stuff, except for the fact that Sammy designed it.

      It was clear this place made her tremendously happy. Those green eyes of hers glowed with beautiful intensity. She spoke faster, too, when she was describing the apartment’s amenities. Sometimes skipping words, then going back to chase them down. He loved every second of it.

      The technical stuff was utterly lost on him. But this was Sammy, the girl he remembered. The heels were unexpected, though. He knew she hated them. In fact, he could only remember her wearing them twice, and both times she’d taken them off at inappropriate times. Once, she’d been in the dean’s office with some big-money alumni. Matt hadn’t been there, but she’d told him that halfway through explaining her thesis, her feet had started killing her, so she’d taken off her heels and put them on the dean’s desk. She’d shrugged and wondered why he’d been bent out of shape about it. The alumni had handed over a major check, which was what she had been there for...

      Now she was walking him to the bedroom, and the walls were turning from violet to something much darker. When they entered the bedroom itself, the colors started climbing the wall, swirling as if there were smoke in the paint, or whatever it was.

      “Oh, crap,” Sam said. “I forgot something.” She turned around and walked past him as if the apartment were on fire.

      He followed her back down the hall. “What’s going on?”

      “Nothing. Everything’s fine. You can take your bags to your room if you want. I’ll just be a minute.”

      “Should I be worried?”

      The walls in the hallway had turned scarlet, and there was something about them that made him kind of...aroused. Not what he wanted to be. The two of them weren’t like that. If she caught him with a pup tent, he was not going to be happy.

      “You don’t need to follow me,” she muttered over her shoulder.

      “Just hold on a second, will you? Tell me what’s going on.”

      “Your bag. In your room,” she said. “Now would be good.”

      Completely baffled, he stopped and watched her enter the kitchen and walk to the pantry. She opened the door, stepped inside, then closed the door behind her.

      “What, you need a cookie?”

      “Go put your bag away,” she said, her muffled voice sounding stressed.

      “Are you sick? You can tell me.”

      “Matthew. Go. Away.”

      “Fine,” he said as he wandered into the living room and waited by a glass table that sat in front of the couch. It was the perfect vantage point, putting the pantry door in his line of sight without his crowding her. There was a small fountain trickling away somewhere, which was very pleasant, but he only had eyes for the pantry. He noticed, as he stared, that the room smelled really good. Was that what was making him horny? He was pretty damn controlled about these things, but after a few minutes of deep focus, he started to wilt.

      Maybe it wasn’t the smell. The color of the walls, then? But why would she want him to get worked up? The idea didn’t bother him nearly as much as it should have, but it still made no sense.

      The minutes ticked by and he considered getting his bags