When everything was back in place, she checked her watch. A whole ten minutes had passed. How was she going to make it for hours? While Daniel rummaged through the shelves, she palmed her aching back and walked toward the door. Maybe . . .
“There’s no way to pick it. Or remove the hinges. If there were a way to get you out of here, I would, Jade.”
She pulled on the knob and shook the door in its frame. It barely budged. This couldn’t be happening. Other than the bathroom and her doctor’s appointments, she hadn’t been in a small room with a closed door since that night. And she’d had to do deep breathing to get her through those.
“Look, a Nutri-Grain bar.” Daniel stood and blew the dust off the wrapper, then wiped it with the tail of his shirt. “Come on. Come sit down.” He tossed a jumbo package of generic toilet tissue against the back wall and slid down beside it.
Jade lowered herself onto the package, her back braced against the wall.
Daniel handed her the Nutri-Grain bar, giving her a wry grin. “Bon appétit.”
“What about you?”
He set his head against the wall. “Had a huge lunch. I’m still full.”
She ripped off the corner, the cellophane rattling loudly. “You sure?”
“Positive.”
Soon the breakfast bar was gone. Now she had nothing to distract her from the narrow enclosure, no wider than a hallway, maybe ten feet long. She dragged in a lungful of air and found her lungs stiff, unyielding. Maybe if she couldn’t see it. Maybe she could pretend she was someplace else.
She shut her eyes. Darkness closed in, thick and suffocating. Her heart hammered in her chest. Her eyes popped open. She shook with the adrenaline that coursed through her veins. Despite the chill in the air, her palms grew damp.
How much longer? She checked her watch and sighed.
“Tell me about the babies,” Daniel said.
“The babies?”
“How big are they now?”
She turned her head and met his warm gaze, soaking in some of his calm. “A pound and a half each—twelve inches. Fully developed hands. They can even touch each other.”
He smiled. “I’ll bet they’re already saying ‘He’s touching me, Mom.’ ”
She drew in a long, even breath and blew it out. “Probably. They can hear too.”
“Like, womb sounds?”
“That, but also us.”
“They can hear us? Right now?”
“Right now.”
His gaze fell to her tummy. “Hey, little Nugget.” He said softly. “You hear me in there?”
“Nuggets you mean. Two of them, remember?”
“The other one is Peanut. I was getting to her.”
Jade smiled. “Her?”
He shrugged. “That’s just the way I think of them.”
It warmed Jade that he thought of them at all. “And Nugget—is Nugget a girl or boy?”
“Both girls. They’re going to have their momma’s green eyes and musical flair.”
“Wouldn’t that be something? Maybe they could form a band when they’re older.” The thought made her smile.
One of the babies moved, and Jade set her hand on her stomach. Soon they were both flopping around. “I think Nugget woke up Peanut.”
He watched her belly for movement, a funny look coming over his features.
“Do you—do you want to feel them moving?”
His eyes locked with hers. Blue had never looked so warm. “Sure.”
She took his hand and placed it on the side of her stomach, pressing his fingers into the movement. Would he think her belly felt gross?
One of the babies moved.
His eyes darted to hers, widening. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth.
“That was like an elbow or something.”
“An elbow, a knee, a heel . . . they poke me with all their limbs.”
He kept his hand there while the babies squirmed and poked, a look of wonder on his face. His eyes narrowed in concentration, waiting for the next movement.
When it came, he smiled again. “Nugget or Peanut?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Have you thought about real names? I mean you’re welcome to Nugget and Peanut, but—”
“Yeah, maybe something a little more meaningful.” She gave a wry grin. “I think something old-fashioned. And I don’t want them to sound too much alike.”
“No Haley and Kaylee?”
“Uh, no. I’m already worried about telling them apart.” The babies hadn’t moved for a while. “I guess they’re falling asleep again.”
“Thanks.” He pulled his hand away, taking his warmth with him. “That’s amazing.”
Jade crossed her arms against the sudden chill. She was going to freeze in here tonight. There was nothing to cover up with unless she wanted to mummify herself with toilet tissue.
“Cold?”
“A little.”
He unbuttoned his pinstriped shirt and leaned forward as he tugged it off. A white T-shirt hugged his beefy shoulders and well-defined chest. If there were a local fire fighters’ calendar, he’d be on the cover.
Jade looked away, shook her head to clear it. What was wrong with her? She was looking at Daniel like he was a man.
Uh, Jade. He is a man.
He handed her the shirt.
“Thanks.” She slipped her arms into it, avoiding his eyes. The shirt swallowed her, and the cuffs, rolled to the elbows on him, fell to her fingertips. She burrowed into the Oxford. It was still warm from his body, and it smelled like him.
She took a deep whiff, wishing for bigger lungs. “Won’t you get cold?”
“Nope. Warm-blooded.”
His arm did feel warm against hers. He was a virtual furnace.
She settled back against the wall. She was adjusting to the small space. If she kept her mind off it, maybe she wouldn’t freak out again.
Daniel asked about Madison’s birthday. The three sisters had gone for manis and pedis at Sassy Nails to celebrate. Jade waved her glittery purple nails at him, and he admired them.
They talked about work and the upcoming ribbon cutting for a new car dealership. He kept her mind busy, the conversation flowing, and the next time she checked, it was almost nine.
“How’s the fund-raising going?” she asked when there was finally a lull in the conversation. Daniel had a lot of local support, and his family’s connections helped matters, but campaigns were expensive.
He shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”
“You’re about to run for Congress. It’s a big deal, Daniel.”
“I know. I don’t take it for granted. It’s just overwhelming sometimes. People are so disenfranchised, so skeptical, and you can’t blame them, you know? It seems like a long uphill climb to Washington, all the glad-handing and speaking and kissing up. I’m tired just thinking about it.”
“But you want it, right?”
She didn’t expect the pause and looked at him.
He rested his forearms on his knees. “I want to have a positive impact on our world. Politics is the best way for me to do that.”
She’d never heard him less than thrilled about his political future. As long as she’d known him, he’d been sure of his destination. “You sound less than excited.”
Maybe he was just tired. Between his position as mayor, the campaign stuff, and the fireman thing, he couldn’t be getting much sleep.
“It’ll be fine.”
“What’s wrong?”
He shrugged, his big shoulders moving against hers. Maybe he was feeling pressure from his parents. They’d always done that, even at a distance, with school, then college. His parents had been right in the middle of everything during his run for mayor.
“Are you worried about losing?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Never really think about that.”
She smiled. Only Daniel. “What then?”
He lowered his legs, crossed his arms, making his bicep
s bulge. “I love people. I love this country. I want to make it even better, and there are some policies I want to help change. But it’s a big sacrifice. I don’t want to be like my parents. I don’t want to do it the way they did.”
“Do what?”
“Family. Parenting.” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“It’s a lot of travel, but other politicians manage.”
“At what cost?”
She thought of how young Daniel had been when he’d come to live with his grandma. How had that boy felt about being left behind? She saw in his eyes the wounds it had left.
“You wouldn’t do that,” she said.
“I don’t think I’m going to do it at all.”
“What do you mean?”
He crossed his ankles and lifted a shoulder. “Marriage, parenthood. I’d rather not do it at all than do it badly.”
She frowned at him. “You wouldn’t do it badly.” She studied his faraway eyes. His strong jawline, now lightly covered in stubble. He was not only handsome, that wasn’t even half the equation with Daniel. He was kind and loving and generous. It would be a crime not to pass along all that good DNA.
“Just something I’ve been thinking about. I haven’t signed a bachelor covenant or anything.”
“What about that woman you’re seeing—Courtney?”
He shrugged. “I ended it awhile back. There was nothing there.”
He hadn’t mentioned it. It broke her heart to think of Daniel forever alone. Would he give up so much for his future? Would the cost be worth it?
She rolled her head toward him. “You deserve a family, Daniel.”
He turned toward her, a wry smile on his lips. “I’ll have politics to keep me company.”
“Politics won’t keep you warm at night.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Sadness? They drew her right in and held her there. She didn’t like to see him this way. He was always optimistic in his own quiet way. Now she could see some deep ache on his face.
His lips gave in to gravity. He really did have nice lips. Bowed on top and full below. His kisses would be soft and tender, heartfelt. She’d already had a brief taste. Her heart beat faster at the thought.
His lips parted.
She snapped her head forward. She’d been staring at his mouth. Staring at Daniel’s lips. Heat climbed her neck and settled in her cheeks, fanning outward. So this was what a hot flash felt like.
He was still looking at her. She could feel it. The space seemed smaller, warmer. One was good, the other not so much.
She pulled her knees up, curling into them as far as she could with her stomach. She unbuttoned the collar of the shirt, needing air. Needing more oxygen to keep up with her suddenly racing heart.
“Jade?”
Breathe in. Breathe out. Look at the door, way over there. Don’t focus on the side walls. The encroaching shelves. Plenty of room. Nothing’s going to happen.
“You okay?”
Relax. In. Out. In. Out. Nothing’s going to happen.
“Look at me.” Daniel pulled her chin around, holding it tight, a lifeline. Could he see the panic in her eyes? “You’re safe. I’m here.”
She focused on his eyes. Those mesmerizing blue eyes. Safe. Daniel. She could do this.
“Nothing’s going to happen. You’re okay. I promise.”
She wasn’t in Chicago in her shoebox bedroom. She wasn’t drugged. Wasn’t alone with—him. There was no creaking bed, no heavy weight pressing her into the mattress.
Her eyes drifted from Daniel. He tightened his grasp, drawing her focus back to him.
She filled her lungs. Made her breaths slow. Her heart would follow, right? She couldn’t be in safer hands. She knew that. Why couldn’t her heart figure it out? She stared into his eyes for a solid minute, letting them calm her. Felt the strength of his grasp and the assurance that he was her protector. Her eyes burned at the thought.
“Better?”
She nodded.
He slowly released her chin, still watching her. She’d never had an irrational fear, and she didn’t like it. When had she become such a freak?
“I’m fine.”
He seemed to test her assertion with his eyes.
“I am.”
Did he know what had caused this? Had he put it together? Probably, but she didn’t want to talk about it. He seemed to understand that.
“Why don’t we go ahead and get settled for the night. I know it’s a little early, but we could both use the sleep.”
Sleep was good. Sleep would pass the time. She’d wake up, and it would be morning. They’d be out of here.
He was already up, rooting through the shelves. He pulled down a plastic runner and laid it out at her feet, perpendicular. “It’s not much, but it’ll keep you off the cold floor.”
He looked over his shoulder toward the door, then back to her. “Light on or off?”
There might be a light on in the office, but the door was sealed tight. It would be totally dark. “Would you mind leaving it on?”
“I’ll pretty much sleep like the living dead either way.” He took his spot on the back wall beside her and patted his leg. “Come on.”
“What about you?”
He grabbed a bundle of brown paper towels from a nearby shelf and stuck it between the wall and his neck. “Good to go.”
“You can’t sleep sitting up.”
“Sure I can. Come on.”
Eyeing him, she stretched out on the runner, her back to the wall, her head on Daniel’s thigh. His warmth felt good against her cheek, her shoulder. Now all she had to do was close her eyes and wait for sleep to come.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
A CHILL PASSED OVER JADE. SHE TURNED INTO THE PILLOW, stretching her arm out, curling into the warmth. Better. Releasing a contented sigh, she drifted away again.
A mild backache nudged her from oblivion. On her side, she kicked out her leg to alleviate the pressure and turned into her warm pillow, snuggling deeper, not wanting to wake just yet. Too early. Sleep.
The pillow moved slowly. Up and down. Up and down.
She frowned, then dismissed the thought. A puff of air hit the top of her head. Had she slept with the fan? She didn’t remember turning it on. The air came in regular puffs, synchronized with her moving pillow.
Pillows didn’t move. They didn’t breathe. She opened her eyes. Her face pressed into her white pillow. She frowned at her pinstriped sleeve, curling around her pillow. Not her pajamas. Not her shirt.
Freezing, her eyes traveled down to her pillow, rising and falling intermittently.
Not. Her. Pillow.
Last night rushed back. Her heart kicked into gear. She was lying on Daniel, and not just her head. She took stock of the rest of her. Her cheek pressed into his chest. Her stomach wedged into his side. Her leg flung over his body.
His breath hitched suddenly. He moved under her, turning toward her. Jade froze. His leg swung over her body, his arm came around her, enveloping her in his warmth. Her head rested on his arm. He tucked her under his chin, gave a soft sigh, then his breaths evened out.
Jade stared into the V of his T-shirt, inches away, her eyes wide. She hardly dared to breathe. This wasn’t good. She should move away. But her leg was now trapped between his.
She drew in a slow breath, allowing her lungs to expand fully. His manly smell filled her nostrils. She drew in another. She soaked in the comforting weight of his arm, the steady rise and fall of his chest.
Her internal clock said it was too early to get up. They had nowhere to go. And the floor, beyond his embrace, was cold.
He was asleep. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right? She was warm and comfy, all cocooned. And she was sure she had a couple hours of nighttime left. She closed her eyes and willed her muscles to relax.
“Daniel?”
The voice hovered on the edge of his consciousness. Daniel fought the pull, not wanting to leave his wonderful dream.
&nb
sp; Better than wonderful, a dream come true. Jade was with him, her arms wrapped around him. The sweet fragrance of oranges tickled his nose. He sighed deeply, a smile curving his lips.
“Daniel?”
The voice, louder this time, cut through his dreamy state of slumber. He dragged his eyes open, blinking against the brightness, disoriented. His gaze locked onto a bag of coffee beans and a mountain of filters.
The closet. Jade. He found her tucked under his chin, pressed against the full length of him.
Not a dream.
Crap. Not a dream.
The voice wasn’t calling for him anymore. He checked his watch. Seven thirty. Bill Hollis. He couldn’t let him leave. He began to ease away from Jade, pulling his arm from her waist, his leg from over hers. Their bodies were as tangled as last year’s Christmas lights.
Before he could ease his arm out, her eyes opened. She squinted against the light, blinking. Then she looked up, her eyes fixing on him. Her lips parted.
He backed off so quickly she rolled forward, catching herself with a hand in the suddenly empty space.
“Sorry.” He wasn’t sure if he was apologizing for the abrupt movement or for practically mauling her in his sleep.
“Is it morning?” She looked adorable, her hair all tousled, her eyes sleepy.
He remembered Bill and jumped to his feet. “Bill’s here.”
He pounded on the door, praying the man hadn’t given up and gone home. “Bill!” He pounded again. “Bill!”
“Did he leave?” Jade asked, sitting up.
“Hope not.” He didn’t have another appointment until noon, and even then, it was at the coffee shop.
“Daniel?” The male voice cut through the heavy-duty door.
“We’re locked in, Bill. Can you get the key from my desk? Center drawer.”
“Oh, good gravy. Be right back.”
Thank You, Jesus. Daniel exhaled.
“Dibs on the bathroom,” Jade said.
He looked back at her. The intense relief on her face was heartening—and depressing as he realized he’d just gotten as close as he would ever come to having Jade all to himself.
CHAPTER THIRTY
JADE SHOULDERED THE PHONE AS SHE SCROUNGED IN HER desk drawer for a paper clip. “No worries, Mom. Maybe PJ can come.”
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