by Dana Nussio
“I know you’re strong. You’re courageous. You had to be to walk away. To build a life for yourself and your son. And I know you felt you had no one you to turn to.”
He paused and took a deep breath, as his next words could push her away. “But you don’t have to be alone.”
He braced himself for her automatic step back, for the withdrawal he would read on her face, even if she didn’t move at all. Their gazes connected instead. Had she inched closer, as well, or did the sudden tightness in his chest just make it feel that way?
Suddenly, all he could think about was gathering Sarah in his arms. He wanted it so badly that the muscles in his forearms ached with the effort of keeping his hands at his sides. But he couldn’t reach out to her. This was Sarah. He wouldn’t allow himself to touch her. Not without her permission.
“Sarah, could I...” He cleared his throat. “Would you mind...”
His question fell away as she took another step forward, so close that each inhalation carried with it a whiff of her shampoo. The scent brought to mind a field of wildflowers on a late summer day. Her own uneven breaths feathered over his neck, warming his skin.
It would have been enough, just the privilege of standing a whisper away from someone who’d before been like a mannequin to him, set apart in a display window behind glass. But now that live, complex woman he was getting to know rose on her tiptoes and brushed her lips over his in the lightest flutter of a kiss. Jamie was too shocked to move, but his heart didn’t receive the message. It thudded in his chest.
He expected her to pull back then, still wasn’t sure whether it had really happened or if he’d just dreamed it. Then her lips skimmed over his a second time, and whatever had held him in place before set him free.
His arms came around her naturally, and she slid into that perfect oval near his heart, as if they’d practiced the choreography together for a lifetime. He touched his lips to hers once, twice, and then settled into the plush heaven of her mouth. He dreaded the moment when the muscles in her shoulders would tighten under the pressure of hands, but just the opposite, they relaxed beneath his fingertips in what felt like a gift. Of permission. Of welcome.
Though he was painfully aware of each of their bodies’ finite points of contact, he held himself in check. Just one more kiss and he would leave. But then her lips parted for him, giving him access to her sweet mouth, and her tongue tentatively traced his lower lip, and nothing short of handcuffs or a locked cell could have kept him from drawing her even closer.
He drank her in with deep, heady kisses, reveling in her taste and texture.
He could feel her everywhere, soft feminine curves molding to his planes, silken hair brushing against his jaw. Her tiny moan when he shifted his mouth was nearly his undoing. More amazing even than that, beautiful Sarah’s arms had slid up around his neck, and she was kissing him back, offering and accepting, following and leading.
Until she stopped.
She didn’t jerk away. She didn’t have to. Her retreat was subtler than that. Arms that loosened by tiny increments. Responsive lips that ended their conversation without a whisper.
Immediately, he removed his hands from her waist and stepped back, letting his arms fall to his sides. Regret, hot and damning, welled inside him.
“Sorry,” he said.
“I think you should go.”
“Really, Sarah. I shouldn’t have—”
“Just go.”
Her voice was shaky, and her shoulders slumped, just as they had when she’d shared her story earlier. When she’d trusted him with it.
Only this time, he was to blame for the defeat in her voice and in her posture. What was he doing? It didn’t matter that she’d kissed him first, or that she’d accepted his touch. She was vulnerable. He should have known better. He’d hoped to be her safe place, and he’d just proved that she wasn’t safe anywhere.
He grabbed his jacket from the floor and turned to the door, starting on the series of locks. Once he stood on the walkway outside, he glanced back at her through the open door.
“I still mean what I said. You don’t have to be alone.”
She didn’t meet his gaze as she closed the door behind him.
The clicks of all the locks sounded louder than they had before. More final. But that had to be because this time he was on the outside.
Chapter 10
Sarah rested her head against the cool steel of her apartment door, but even that barrier and five locks couldn’t block her need to be on the other side. With Jamie.
“What were you thinking?”
She must have lost her instinct for self-preservation, but she could only wonder whether he was still standing outside, staring at the number on her door and trying to figure out what had just happened. Or maybe he had his jacket collar pulled up near his ears, the way he had at the zoo, and had given up and gone to his car. She needed him to forget whatever he believed was happening between them, too, even if part of her didn’t want him to.
She stepped back from the door and brushed at the chill on her upper arms that had come from both the ever-present draft and the loss of the heat that had radiated from Jamie’s chest. The apartment always felt cramped, but now its walls seemed to close in around her.
She had no one to blame but herself for this funk. From the moment she’d written the silly note to Jamie at the diner, she’d made nothing but mistakes involving him. She’d understood that it was too risky to let anyone get close to her and Aiden. Let alone a man. And a cop. So why had she all but set out a king-size welcome mat, inviting Jamie into their lives? Was the need to allow someone to truly know her worth the risk?
Wasn’t it bad enough that she’d nearly confided everything to him tonight? Then she’d lost her mind and kissed him. Only the second man she’d ever kissed, and she’d made the first move. She would ask herself why, but the answers were obvious. She’d kissed him because she could think of nothing else, and she wasn’t sure he would go through with it. Even after he’d started to ask for permission. That he’d asked at all had made him irresistible.
As if lifted by some invisible force, her hand covered her mouth and her index finger traced the curves of her lips. Her skin was tingly and sensitive to the touch now. Lips that had never been kissed that way before. Thoroughly. Adoringly. Though Jamie had hinted that he wasn’t all that experienced with women, he’d kissed her as if he understood her. Gentle touches that enticed rather than demanded. Kisses that made her crave more, something she couldn’t afford to do.
Had the sensual woman inside her that she’d believed dead only been sleeping and waiting to be awakened with a kiss, like some modern-day Snow White? She shook her head. If her life hadn’t proved that fairy tales didn’t exist, she didn’t know what would. Now the evil villains in those stories—she could swear by them. Still, she couldn’t deny that her skin had awakened beneath Jamie’s touch, then yawned and stretched toward daylight. Though his hands had never strayed from her arms and back, she’d felt his hands everywhere. Wanted them everywhere.
The truth that she still wanted it had her stalking across the room to the sofa, but instead of sitting, she frowned at the lamp with its too soft illumination. She marched back to the door and flipped the switch for the overhead fixture. Now stark light filled the apartment, showing all the imperfections that had been hidden before, chasing away the romantic cocoon she’d allowed to enfold her. She flitted about, tucking Aiden’s toys and books into their proper places, fluffing already plump pillows and smoothing unwrinkled slipcovers.
But all the activity failed to push forbidden images and sensations from her mind. The glide of Jamie’s mouth over hers. The gentle pressure of his hand on the small of her back as he drew her intimately to him. Close enough to make her aware that she wasn’t the only one who wanted.
Shouldn’t that knowledge have terrified her? More than that,
why was she allowing herself to become distracted by a man? Why now? She wanted to believe that loneliness alone had caused her long-neglected skin to crave any tender touch. Yet she was most comfortable in her own company now, and the only man’s touch she had experienced had been neither tender nor loving.
The feel of Jamie’s hands on her skin had been both those things. She couldn’t deny that truth any more than she could dispute that her actions tonight had far more to do with the man himself than with her own needs or wants. What was it about Jamie Donovan that drew her in when she should have been pushing him away with both hands? Was it that he’d allowed her to see his vulnerability when he’d shared his story about his brother? Or could it have been his quiet strength, which was utterly masculine without the need to punctuate that truth with his fists?
The image of his tight jaw and gripped hands slid into her thoughts, contradicting her argument, nullifying her excuses. Was he that different from Michael when Jamie had difficulty controlling his anger, even if it was technically on her behalf?
She refused to listen to the voice deep inside that said the two men couldn’t have been more different. She wouldn’t allow herself to romanticize thoughts about him, to believe that he would never treat her as a possession like Michael had.
At the thought of her ex, her mouth went dry. Had she lost sight, even for a minute, of why they were there in the first place? Had she forgotten her worries over hands that might drag her and Aiden back into her former reality? Or the truth that she couldn’t even call her son by his real name?
She’d thought she was different now. Stronger. Smarter. And yet she’s just proved that she was no different from the impetuous teenager who’d gotten herself trapped in a prison as real as the one Michael currently lived in. Just how many details had she shared with Jamie today? Were there enough to lead him back to Michael, even without providing his real name? Enough to trigger a chain of events that would lead the man of her nightmares back to her and Aiden? Had she told Jamie because she wanted to get caught?
At the squeak of the bedroom door, Sarah jumped, caught in thoughts too troubling to share. Aiden stood barefoot in the doorway, his hair sticking out in all directions, his pajama top pushed up so that his belly showed.
“What are you doing up, little man?”
“I’m hungry.” He rubbed his eyes and blinked several times as they adjusted to the bright room.
She really was a bad mother. She’d let him fill up on junk food and go to bed without dinner. More than that, when had she allowed this situation to become about her and not the child she loved more than her own life?
“Here, honey.” She pulled out a chair for him. “I’ll get you something to eat.”
When Aiden didn’t sit immediately, she took out bread, strawberry jam and peanut butter and made him a sandwich. She couldn’t let herself smile over those peanut butter sandwiches earlier or think about how much she’d enjoyed that vending machine lunch. Instead, she sliced an apple into wedges and added a few carrots to complete the meal.
When she set the plate on the table, Aiden finally dropped into the seat and started eating. But then he stopped and looked around the room.
“Where’s Mr. Jamie?”
“He had to go home.”
He dropped the half-eaten sandwich, his eyes filling with tears. “He didn’t have to go. Not yet. It’s too soon.”
Sarah brushed her fingers through her little boy’s hair, but he bristled under her touch. He was overtired after his day of adventures, and he wouldn’t know about rules of decorum involving single moms and male guests. But it also was a sign that she shouldn’t have allowed her son to deepen his relationship with Jamie. No good could come from Aiden clinging to him as a father figure, or her attaching herself to him for any other reason.
“It was late, sweetie, so he had to go. But we had a fun day with him, didn’t we?” Definitely more fun than she should have had.
“But Mommy, I want Mr. Jamie.”
“I know you do, honey.”
She was surprised she could speak at all. For no matter how risky any involvement with the man might be, no matter how many times she reminded herself that she should steer clear of him, she wanted to be with Jamie, too. Wanted to feel safe in his strong arms again, to help another broken human being learn to forgive himself.
But none of that could happen. Jamie might have seemed different from any cop she’d ever met. Or any man she’d ever met. That didn’t mean she could risk Aiden’s safety to be with him. She would get her priorities straight for her son’s sake.
Sarah gestured toward Aiden’s food that he’d barely touched. “Aren’t you hungry?”
He poked his sandwich and then pushed his plate away. “Not anymore,” he said in a small voice.
“Well, let’s get you back to bed then.”
She held out her hand, and he rested his tiny one in hers. The message in that gesture couldn’t have been plainer as she guided him into the bedroom, nor could it have struck her on a more elemental level. Just as he had since his birth, Aiden relied on her to protect him. She would do whatever was required to keep him safe, no matter what it cost her.
She hated that the cost felt so high this time. Hated that a selfish part of her still wanted to put her needs first. But even if she could be reckless with her own life, she never could be with Aiden’s.
For that reason, and a host of others, her son would not be spending more time with the friend he so desperately wanted. And neither would she.
Chapter 11
Michael pressed the doorbell on the yellow brick bungalow, where clay flowerpots lined either side of the porch. Plastic tulips and daisies poked out of the pots as if fake flowers could convince visitors that winter never came to the Midwest.
He didn’t need her to answer the door to know she was at home. He’d nearly frozen his ass off in that econobox he’d boosted, waiting all day for her to return from work. If it hadn’t been necessary for him to avoid drawing attention to himself, he would have descended on her like a fog the moment she pulled her vehicle into the detached single-car garage. So, she was lucky he’d at least waited for her to get inside the house before showing up on her porch.
Her familiar, too-wide smile greeted him as she opened the door, but it vanished the moment her gaze settled on him. Oh, his wife’s little friend knew something, all right. He would lay money on it.
“Michael? Is that you?”
She adjusted her glasses and tucked her chin-length brown hair behind her ears at the same time. Proving she already had the answer to her question, she started closing the door by tiny increments.
“Hiya, Tonnie. It’s been a long time.”
“It has.”
Her expression was neutral, the kind people gave door-to-door salesmen before they slammed the door in their faces. She wasn’t going to get the chance this time.
“I didn’t know you were...”
“Out?” He held his hands up and rotated them to show they were free of handcuffs. “Isn’t it great?”
She licked her lips. “I don’t mean to be rude, Michael, but why are you here?”
“Now is that any way to treat a guest?” He used his best smile, but he couldn’t keep his jaw from tightening. “Just invite me in, and we’ll catch up.”
“That’s probably not—”
He loved how she froze when he jammed his foot into the opening so that she couldn’t shut the door. She was still staring down at his shoe when he pushed past her into the house. She didn’t close the door, so he reached around her and did it himself. Good thing she hadn’t thought to scream. That just wouldn’t do.
“It’s too cold to leave the door open,” he said, as he scanned the cramped living room with embroidered pillows lining every seating area and lacy things covering the tables and windows. He would bet there was at least one cat ar
ound. Probably more than one. “Nice place.”
She cleared her throat. “Thanks.”
“Look, I just want to talk with you for a while, and then I’ll go. I promise.”
He waited for her nod and then stepped to the upright piano, where he could examine the collection of framed photos on top. Most were of Tonya with her parents and brothers. Maria was with her in a few of the old photos. Nothing in the past decade or so. A couple shots featured two dark-haired little girls. A small blond boy in enormous sunglasses. Probably nieces and nephews.
Clearly, there was no guy in her life. He’d expected as much from how easily he’d been able to locate her, but it was good to have that confirmed. Wouldn’t want any would-be protector complicating things by showing up before she gave him the answers he needed.
She was wringing her hands when he turned back to her.
“Do you have anything to drink?” he asked, when she didn’t offer.
“Just sweet tea.”
That figured. “That’d be great.”
He followed her into the narrow kitchen, so she wouldn’t get any ideas about running out the back door. Sure enough, the moment she opened the refrigerator, a pair of gray tabbies appeared out of nowhere. They eyed him warily and then started mewling next to the door.
She let them outside and closed the door, but she didn’t lock it. “They never stay out long. Not with dinner coming soon.”
The side of his mouth lifted. Was that supposed to be her warning that they weren’t alone in the house?
She set out a pitcher of tea and then grabbed two glasses from a cabinet. Her movements were robotic, her hands shaking as she poured, but she finished the job and handed him a glass.
“Let’s drink it in here.”
She led him into the living room without looking back, as if he wasn’t making her nervous as hell. Once they were both seated, she sipped from her glass, but her hand shook again, and brown liquid dribbled on her blouse.
