by Dana Nussio
“That’s the problem,” he said after a long pause. “This is all falling in a big swath of gray, when it’s supposed to be black-and-white to me. That’s my job.”
“It might not be my job, but I used to think the same thing. That the good cowboys wore the white hats and the bandits wore masks.” She took a deep breath and then released it slowly through her teeth. “But then I had to live in the real world, and nothing was the way I thought it would be.”
He nodded. “It’s just frustrating that I have to choose between what I know to be right and what my heart tells me is right. Between my job and...well, you.”
Neither of them had to speak the words that he’d chosen her. That truth was evident in the heightened tension in the room. A bridge crossed and set aflame. There was no turning back.
“I hope you won’t be sorry.”
Again, she waited for him to pull his hand away, to at least show his disappointment with the internal battle he’d waged and lost. But instead he slid his palm gently down the length of her arm to rest on top of her hand, his longer fingers covering hers. It felt so natural for her to rotate her hand so that their fingers could link.
The connection felt far more intimate than even their heated kisses and her blossoming desire from the other night. She ached over the sacrifice she’d forced him to make, but she couldn’t dwell on that. Especially when she’d just placed her hand in Jamie’s and put her trust in him. Though if she were honest with herself, she’d known he was worthy of her trust from the start.
There was just something about Jamie Donovan. She’d sensed it from the beginning. Before she’d known anything about him besides his work with her son and his deep reaction to the loss of a man he’d never met. Was it his heroism, a quiet strength that had no need to flex its muscles? Or was it his loyalty to his brother’s memory and his determination to repay a debt he didn’t owe? Or, perhaps, the kindness he’d shown, first to her son and then to her.
Jamie broke the spell of the moment by unlacing their fingers and standing up from the sofa. He looked at his watch instead of at her.
“It’s really late now. I’d better be getting the both of you home.”
“You’re right.” Even if she would have willingly frozen that moment in time.
“Here, let me take him.” He shifted Aiden off her lap. The boy grunted his displeasure at being disturbed, but immediately wrapped his arms around Jamie’s neck. “He’s going to be tired in the morning. Are you going to give him a day off from school?”
She shook her head as she disturbed her sleeping child a few more times by peeling back his arms to slide on the sleeves of his jacket.
“I don’t want to change his routine more than necessary. I’ll let him sleep an extra hour and have Nadia take him to school a little late.”
She paused long enough to pull on her own jacket. She offered Jamie his coat, as well, but he glanced down at Aiden, who looked comfortable again, and shook his head.
“Just bring it. I’ll put it on in the car.”
As he started toward to the door, Sarah fell into step behind him.
“I also don’t want to reinforce that sneaking out could get him a day off from school.”
Jamie glanced over his shoulder, his expression a sheepish one. “You mean in addition to getting the chance to visit my house just like he planned?”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
“You also could have said no when I suggested it.”
“I could have. But, hey, I like cocoa, too.”
She’d also been far too keyed up to go home right away. Or to be away from Jamie when in those moments after they’d located Aiden, she couldn’t get close enough to her son...or to him. She still felt that way, and the last thing she wanted to do was to return to her apartment, her bed, when all she could think about was staying here. With Jamie.
Chapter 16
Jamie tucked the comforter tightly around Aiden’s tiny form, the feeling of déjà vu swirling around him as heavy as his thoughts. But when he pulled back, ducking his head to avoid the edge of the top bunk, two small arms snaked out to wrap around him.
“Good night, Mr. Jamie.”
“Good night, little man.” He gave the boy an extra squeeze and then released him.
“Thanks for coming to find me.”
“You’re...welcome.”
His breath hitched, but Aiden was already drifting back to sleep. Jamie flipped off the light, but instead of immediately continuing into the main living area, he braced his hand on the door frame and breathed deeply. He didn’t expect Sarah to be back yet, anyway, since she’d stopped to check in with Nadia at her apartment down the hall.
With the darkness as cover, he could brush the sweat from the back of his neck, but there was nothing he could do about his pounding pulse. He needed to get out of this apartment. He had to escape from this space and the intensity of the feelings he had for the two people who lived in it.
He’d promised himself he wouldn’t get too close, but the panic he’d felt when Aiden was missing told him how completely he’d failed. He still couldn’t shake that feeling of helplessness, even with Aiden safe in his bed and Sarah just down the walkway from him. He could have lost one of them tonight. He’d tried to make light of it for Sarah’s sake, but they’d been so lucky.
He wouldn’t be that lucky the next time, when she decided to run again. And she would run, after all she’d told him tonight. She couldn’t risk the chance that he would have a moment of conviction and would turn her in, after all. The worst part was that she’d probably be right.
As if she needed another man to worry about, when she still was convinced that her ex would find her, even if he was still behind bars and even after she’d gone to great lengths to make sure he couldn’t. That Jamie was relieved to know there would be no paper trail to lead her abuser to her showed just how far he’d strayed from his honor code.
Finally, he stepped out into the kitchen area.
“Is he already back to sleep?”
He started at the sound of her voice and turned his head to find her leaning against the counter, a glass of water in her hand. Had she been watching him as he’d used the doorjamb to keep himself upright?
“I didn’t expect you back so soon.”
Nor was he certain how long he’d lingered in Aiden’s room, as much delaying facing Sarah again as assuring himself that Aiden was okay.
As he took in her image now, her haunted eyes masking a strength that had been there all along, he couldn’t imagine ever wanting to delay going to her. Not seeing her again—now that would be his version of hell.
“Nadia was tired. I can’t say as I blame her.” Sarah stared down at her hands for a few seconds and then looked up at him again. “You know, I even blamed her when we couldn’t find him. She forgave me for jumping to conclusions, but she has every right to be upset.”
“We all say things we don’t mean when we’re under stress.”
Her gaze flitted his way, her crossed arms tightening over her chest in a self-protective pose. She’d clearly misunderstood his words, believing that he would report her, after all.
“I guess we do,” she said.
His fingers ached with the need to touch her, if only to reassure her that everything would be okay, but he couldn’t let that happen, especially now. The situation was different from the one back at his house when he hadn’t possessed the strength not to touch her, after she’d finally trusted him with her whole story. This was different. There was no child draped over her to remind him to stop, and from the first brush of her silky skin, he would easily forget.
“It’s been a long night. I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”
He started for the door, forcing himself not to rush. From her. From feelings too overwhelming to dissect without space and time.
He f
elt as much as heard her approach behind him.
“Jamie, wait.”
He knew he should keep walking until he was outside the door, when she could secure all five locks between them. But this was Sarah, and she needed him. He stopped and waited.
She took hold of his hand, and he turned back to her, his pulse pounding in his ears. At first, he could only stare at their fingers as she laced them together, but then his gaze lifted to a face he’d always thought of as lovely but found more so now that he’d cataloged all her smiles and frowns.
Sarah licked her lips, her eyes too shiny in the low light coming from the lamp across the room.
“I know I’ve already said it, but thank you. You’ve been so good to me.” She released his hand and slid both arms around his neck. “You...brought my son back to me.”
Before Jamie could process her words, she rose on her tiptoes and, for the second time, kissed him first. Only unlike before, when her advance had been tentative, questioning, now she kissed him with a desperation that shocked his senses. Blood pounded through his body with the same reckless need.
He should stop. Think. But how could a single coherent thought clear that fog when her full lips tasted of both pursuit and surrender? When her breasts were pressed against his chest and her hips rolled over his in a dance so exquisite, so tantalizing, that he ached with need for her?
With her kisses, she gave, and he took in greedy gulps of the tastes, the textures, the essence of the woman who’d glided effortlessly from his dreams to his reality. No lips had ever tasted this sweet. No female body had ever been this amazing or could have fit more precisely to his.
Seemingly of its own accord, his hand slid upward from her hip until it covered her small, perfect breast. Instead of pulling away, Sarah pressed herself into his palm, seeking relief in his curious touch, clinging to him as if he offered answers to all her questions.
A voice of reason clamored inside him for caution, but he was beyond the sway of those flashing yellow lights. His only thoughts were of Sarah—who wasn’t really Sarah—and his need to make her his, the way she’d already claimed his heart.
The moment was everything he’d dreamed of. Sarah wanted him, needed him, with the same kind of urgency he felt for her. She was offering herself as a gift, and he couldn’t have been readier or more honored to accept.
But was this really the way he’d imagined it? At the wrong time, for all the wrong reasons? Even if it felt perfectly right.
With more strength than he thought he possessed, Jamie gently unlaced her arms from his neck and took a step back from her. He tried not to hear her moan of frustration or see her dilated pupils or hooded eyelids.
“Sarah, sweetheart, we can’t do this.” He shook his head. “Not now. Not like this.”
She stared at the floor. “Why—”
“Not when a little boy we both love could come out that door at any minute.”
Her shoulders slumped, and she took another step back. It was all he could do not to reach out to her again. He hated that he had to make her feel guilty for, just this once, placing her needs above her child’s, but he did what he had to do.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me.”
He stepped forward again and lifted her chin so that she would look at him. Then he lowered his hand, to remove the temptation to touch her again. And again.
“Oh, I want you. Don’t think for a minute that I don’t.” He smiled, trying not to notice her lips, swollen from kisses that he ached to continue. “I haven’t been able to think about anything but you for months. And more recently, about you and me together. Every day. Every night.”
He paused and stared into her eyes long enough to let her imagine just what those nights might entail. “But I can’t have you coming to me this way. Because you’re grateful that I helped to find Aiden.”
“But it’s not—”
He shook his head to settle the matter. “No, it has to be more than that.”
“Jamie, you’re not understanding—”
“Look,” he said, to interrupt her again. “I need you to think this through. Our senses are on overload tonight. It would be so easy—believe me, so easy—to fall into bed now to escape these overwhelming feelings. But then we’ll have to wake up tomorrow, and I couldn’t live with myself if you were sorry.”
He didn’t bother telling her that he’d be sorry. She had to know that wasn’t true.
She shoved both hands back through her hair, and all he could think about was how soft those strands felt when gliding through his fingertips. He crossed his arms to prevent himself from reaching for that silk again.
“Now, I’m going to walk out that door.” He pointed to it over his shoulder. “You need to lock it behind me and go get some rest.”
“Okay, I will.”
“And do me a favor. Don’t look out the window.”
“Why is that?”
“I’ll be parked outside a little while,” he paused, grinning, “and I wouldn’t want you to see me pounding my head on the steering wheel.”
“Thanks, Jamie.” She smiled, and then her expression became serious. “For this, too.”
She let him out the door and then stood at the front window as he passed by, hugging herself. No matter what he’d said, he resented those arms that could hold her when he couldn’t.
It only frustrated him more that after she had the chance to think rationally, she would never let him touch her again.
Sometimes being the good guy offered no rewards at all.
Chapter 17
Sounds of pounding dragged Jamie from the only consecutive minutes of sleep he’d been able to string together all morning. He blinked several times in the dimness of his bedroom, which was darkened by blackout shades, not entirely sure whether the relentless beat had come from inside his head or outside. Why had he even expected to get any sleep when everything he wanted conflicted with the core of who he was? Or at least who he thought he was.
At least the racket had stopped. Maybe the overaggressive door-to-door salesperson had hit some quota and decided to leave him alone. But as soon as he buried his face in his mattress, laying a pillow over his head for good measure, his phone buzzed on the bedside table.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
He hadn’t even pulled a shift since he’d learned those things about Sarah. Had he already drawn attention to himself by accessing the LEIN database one time too often in his search for details about her? How was he supposed to explain how easily he’d been convinced to detour off the straight and narrow?
He fumbled for the phone and then read the text on its display. As the shimmying words came into focus, he sat straight up in the bed, suddenly wide awake.
Answer your door.
As if to assure him that he hadn’t misread Sarah’s message, the thuds coming from his front door down the hall resumed. They were louder this time. He tossed the phone on the bed and yanked on his khaki pants and olive T-shirt that had been pooled on top of the shoes and socks he’d worn the night before. After making a quick stop at the bathroom to brush his teeth, he continued into the living room, tripping over Pancake in the hall. Finally, he opened the door.
Though Jamie had known Sarah would be the one on the other side, his breath still caught when he found her standing at the storm door, her cheeks ruddy from the walk to his house.
“Hi.”
He licked his lips and rubbed his eyes. “Hello.”
“I didn’t know you were busy.”
At his confused look, she pointed to the corner of her own mouth.
“Oh.” He wiped the toothpaste from his lip and then pushed open the door for her. “Sorry. I just woke up.”
“Glad one of us got some sleep,” she said, as she stepped inside.
“Not much.”
He waited fo
r an explanation, but she only stood in his doorway, shifting her jacket back and forth between her hands.
“Sarah, why are you here?” But then a flash from the night before flickered in his thoughts. “Did something happen to Aiden?”
She licked her lips. “He’s fine. Nadia took him to school an hour ago, while I was baking at work. She said he arrived safe and sound.”
“Then are you okay?”
She nodded. “I haven’t forgotten all about it, like my son has, but yes, I think so.”
“Nadia?”
“We’re all fine.”
“Then, as I asked before, why are you here?” But as soon as he asked it, several puzzle pieces fitted into place. He’d encouraged her to think about the situation between them when he’d left her several hours before. She’d also known he would be home that morning. And she’d come here alone.
“I thought about it,” she said simply.
Those four words should have made him feel as if he’d won the lottery, but instead of tossing confetti into the air, he was suddenly questioning the authenticity of the ticket. Why couldn’t he be like other guys and just take the gift that was offered without any regrets?
“But are you sure you’ve thought long enough? It’s not even been twenty-four hours since your son was missing.”
“It’s long enough.”
That she blinked as if his words had stung only made him question more.
“This thing between us, it can’t be only about gratitude,” he said, repeating his argument from the night before.
“It’s always been about more than that.” Then in a low voice, she added, “You know that.”
“I don’t know that.” He stalked away from her toward the kitchen doorway and then whipped around to face her, but from a safe distance. Far enough away that he couldn’t reach out and touch her. “Even that first note you gave me was you thanking me for the work I did with Aiden.”
She blew out a breath. “Fine. Maybe it started out that way, but I didn’t know you then. It changed later.”
“What changed?”