She knew better, of course. That’s one the things she’d grown to really respect about Huck. What you saw was what you got--no subterfuge, no games, all honesty all the time.
Even when you didn’t necessarily want to hear it.
That took a rare kind of courage--character one didn’t always find anymore. He was a rare breed, she decided, with a true sense of duty and honor and responsibility. Simply put, he was a good man, her Falcon. Another tidbit she’d gotten from him this morning--his military nickname. One that fit, she thought, her gaze caressing the lean slope of his cheek, those piercing gray eyes.
And she grimly suspected she’d fallen in love with him.
When had it happened? Probably the first instant she’d laid eyes on him. She’d known, hadn’t she, that he was different? That he was special? Hell, her body had recognized it long before her heart and head had caught up. She’d been burning for him--in a constant state of longing--from the minute he’d walked into her living room and told her not to call him a sonofabitch, an asshole, or a bastard.
She blushed, remembering that she’d called him worse.
But it didn’t matter, because at the end of the day, despite the heartache she knew was going to inevitably come, she just wanted to be with him.
She wanted to kiss those masculine lips, taste that patch of skin behind the shell of his ear. Trace each rib with her fingers and learn his body in Braille. She wanted to claim every part for her own, burrow beneath his skin and make him feel all the wonderful things she was feeling. She wanted to see into his head and share his thoughts. Heal his pains and help him over the hurdle of losing his passion.
God, how she’d heard that in his voice. When he’d talked about floating along in the sky, that first rush of adrenaline he got from jumping out of a plane, the way his stomach would lurch when he pulled the ripcord and the sense of pride on every successful landing...
He hadn’t simply enjoyed what he’d done--he’d been in love with it.
Huck caught her staring at him and smiled. “What are you thinking about?” he asked cautiously.
“You and your Falcon days,” she said, considering him thoughtfully. “I would have loved to seen you jump out of an airplane. You’re an arrogant bad ass now.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll bet you would have been damned hard to live with back then.”
“Arrogant bad ass?” he parroted, feigning outrage. “I’m not arrogant, Sapphira. I’m good. There’s a difference. It’s subtle,” he reminded her. “So you might have missed it.”
Throwing her words back at her, was he, the wretch? “It’s nice to see that your self-esteem wasn’t damaged in the fall,” she said drolly.
“No, the only thing that wounded, aside from my body, was my pride.” He swore softly and looked away. “Stupid mistake.”
She felt a frown furrow over her brow. “What happened?”
The light dimmed from his eyes and his gaze grew shuttered. “Doesn’t matter, does it? I can’t fly anymore.”
Intuition told her it did matter and because she was nosy she couldn’t let it go. “You don’t make stupid mistakes. Something must have happened.”
She waited and he rewarded her patience with a long sigh. “I got lost in thought, let my mind wander for an instant too long. By the time I realized that I’d missed the drop zone, it was too late. I was already in the trees.”
Lost in thought? About what? It had to have been something important. She threaded her fingers through his and studied the strength in each knuckle, committed every line to memory. “What were you thinking about?”
His gaze finally found hers once more and a humorless grin slid over that sensual mouth, one that somehow managed to break her heart. “My father,” he finally said, a bark of ironic laughter tearing out of his throat. “It’s funny. I hadn’t thought about the man in years. It seemed like a betrayal to my mother, you know. She’d worked so hard, so tirelessly, to make a home for me, to make sure that I never lacked for anything, and so I never really...missed him.” A ghost of a smile played over his lips. “She wouldn’t allow it.” He paused. “But a fellow trooper had lost his father that week and I started thinking about mine. Did I have any brothers and sisters out there? If so, what were they like? Had I passed them on the street? Had I passed him on the street? What was he like? Was he even still alive? I’ve even hired a PI,” he added. He swallowed. “One thought led to another and the next thing I knew, I was screwed.”
Her heart ached and she snuggled closer to him, trying to absorb his pain. “Oh, Huck, I’m so sorry.”
“I’ve got nobody to blame but myself,” he said, suddenly sobering.
And he did, Sapphira knew. “We all make mistakes, Huck,” she said. “And sometimes the hardest person to forgive is ourselves.”
She knew. She’d gone through a brief period where she’d blamed herself for losing her baby. She had to have done something wrong, otherwise her baby would have survived. Ella had told her otherwise, of course, had explained that miscarriage was nature’s way, but it had still been hard.
She’d also blamed herself for Nicky’s death. She hadn’t noticed that he’d been spiraling out of control, she hadn’t taken every phone call, she hadn’t connected the dots. Her fault, she’d thought. If she’d only done something--anything--different, then her brother would be alive. She shared as much with Huck, then shrugged. “Ultimately, I realized that hind-sight was twenty-twenty and that I couldn’t change the outcome. Am I sorry that I didn’t pay more attention? That I missed his cries for help?” She nodded. “Every day. But there’s nothing I can do to change things and the guilt finally got too heavy. Ella convinced me to put it down and move on.”
“She’s a wise woman,” Huck said, nodding thoughtfully. “Do you know why your brother took his own life?”
Sapphira shook her head. “My father thinks he pushed Nicky too hard and, while I won’t lie and say that didn’t contribute, I think he just...got sick of living. He’d always been a bit troubled. Dad had reamed him out for making a poor investment, his girlfriend had just broken up with him. He hated the business, had always dreamed of pursuing an art career.”
Something sharpened in his gaze and he glanced around her living room. “Are those paintings his?” Huck asked.
She nodded, emotion welling in her throat. “Yeah,” she sighed. “He was very talented.”
“I’m sorry, Sapphira. That must have been tough.”
She leaned her head against his chest. “It was. But it gets easier. We were close and I miss him, but time has a way of making things that were unbearable...bearable. You learn to endure.”
He pressed a kiss on the top of her head. “Those are wise words, sweetheart. Thank you for sharing that with me,” he said, that smooth baritone achingly earnest, silently begging for more.
She longed to bare her soul to him so much in that instant that it hurt, that keeping it in felt like a festering sore in her belly. Do it, a little voice prodded. Tell him about Carmen. Tell him about your baby. Tell him about Belle Charities. Tell him who you really are, what you’re really about.
Sapphira wavered and worried, but ultimately couldn’t bring herself to do it. She couldn’t afford to take the chance. She couldn’t ask to take him into her confidence when he officially worked for her father. Too much was at stake. There was too much to lose.
Evidently sensing that the moment had passed, Sapphira felt a silent sigh leak out of his chest. “What time are we supposed to be at Ella’s for dinner?”
“Six,” she said. “We’ve got about thirty more minutes.”
His hum rattled against her ear. “Just enough time then.”
She felt a slow smile roll around her lips, then nudged Trixie from Huck’s lap and took her place. She smiled down into his woefully familiar face and felt her heart leap into her throat. Oh, God, she was in trouble. “Time for what?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.
His eyes curiously intense, filled with revelation
s she couldn’t readily interpret, he leaned forward and whispered a kiss over her lips. “Dessert,” he said, coupling the answer with a telling squeeze to her rump that sent her joy juices into overdrive.
“Excellent,” Sapphira told him. “It’s my favorite.”
CHAPTER 12
Ella’s gaze glittered with knowing humor when they walked into her house at five after six. “Humph,” she said, darting him a look. “I don’t know why, but I’m getting the impression that you take your body-guarding duties seriously.”
“Ella,” Sapphira hissed, seemingly mortified. “What on earth would possess you to say a thing like that?”
“What would possess me to say a thing like that?” she repeated, her eyes wide. “You mean aside from the fact that your shirt’s on wrong side out and his cow is about to escape the barn?”
Impossibly, Huck felt a blush creep up his neck as his hands flew to his zipper. He frowned, gazing at Ella. “My barn door is shut.”
Ella smiled wickedly. “But you had to check, didn’t you?”
Busted, he merely returned her grin. “I would have checked regardless,” he said.
“But would you have looked guilty?”
He chewed the inside of his cheek and took his seat at the table. She had him there, that was for sure. Since lying was out of the question, he merely shrugged and watched Sapphira check the seams of her shirt.
“My shirt’s not on inside out, Ella,” she said, scowling at the older woman. Her gaze narrowed. “You’re sneaky, you know that?”
“What I am, chil’, is perceptive. What?” she asked, quirking an innocent brow. “You think I didn’t notice how ya’ll were looking at one another over here the other night?” She set a bowl of steaming gumbo on the table along with a platter of mouthwatering bread. “I might be old, but I’m not blind.” She harrumphed again. “I know what love looks like.”
She said it with so much assurance and authority that he almost didn’t panic. His gaze swung to Sapphira’s and she offered him an equally uneasy grin. He knew he was falling in love with her--knew that he’d wandered onto to that slippery slope when he hadn’t been able to resist her--but somehow, having someone else recognize what he wasn’t quite ready to vocally admit made him feel like his skin was too tight, his tongue thick, and his body was on fire.
On the plus side, Ella seemed to operating under the assumption that they both were in love and that, he decided, made him feel infinitely better.
Was Sapphira in love with him? Huck wondered. Was it possible to fall in love this fast? Frankly, he had no experience with love. He’d never cared this much about another person before in his life, and didn’t know precisely what to look for to know if the sentiment was reciprocated. Odd how that keen sense of intuition he’d claimed to have earlier seemed blind to the most important question he’d ever faced.
Huck studied her covertly from across the table. Watched her small hands--the same ones she’d ran over his body then coated in sanitizer only moments before, he thought, smiling--carefully help Ella load the plates and tend to the table. They moved in sync, with familiarity borne out of history, anticipating the other’s move.
While he couldn’t claim the history part, he could argue that they did seem to have a certain inherent rhythm. And it was more than the sex, Huck thought, though that was almost so perfect it was though they’d been making love for years, choreographing their intimacy through repetition and practice. He was in tune with her, for lack of a better description. He always knew where she was, could feel her presence whether she was right beside him or halfway across the room. It was as disconcerting as it was comforting.
Furthermore, while she hadn’t completely come clean about why she was so afraid of her father and why she’d decided to hide her involvement with Belle Charities from him and the rest of the men at Ranger Security, he had to admit that her trusting him enough to confide in him about her brother’s death had claimed another little part of his soul. Naturally, he wanted her to tell him all of her secrets--to share everything with him--but he knew her well enough to know at this point that, if she hadn’t, she had a very good reason.
And, dammit, he wanted to know that as well.
Basically, he just wanted all of her. Was that too much to ask?
Sapphira chose that moment to look over at him. Those beautiful green eyes were rife with affection and longing, humor and heat, wit and charm. “You’re making me nervous,” she said, as he continued to stare.
“Good,” Huck told her. “Because, Princess, you scare the hell out of me.”
She stilled, accepting the comment for what it was--a veiled insinuation that he was falling for her, the closest he could comfortably get with a declaration that this was more than just a passing thing. “You’re pretty damned frightening, yourself.”
Ella chuckled softly. “Do ya’ll need a moment?” she asked. “Do I need to leave?”
Sapphira rolled her eyes. “What you need to do is sit down,” she said. “Everything is on the table.”
“Don’t get fresh, young lady,” Ella admonished. She pulled her apron over her head, hung it on a peg next to the refrigerator and finally took her seat. From the corner of his eye, Huck saw what looked like a moth flutter through the air and land on the floor next to the table leg. Because he was a man and killing bugs was supposed to be his job, he took his napkin and leaned down, prepared to do his duty.
His heart raced and his mouth went dry as his gaze landed not a moth, but a single letter cut from a newspaper.
With pinking shears.
He mentally reeled, unable to make what he instinctively knew process. It couldn’t be coincidence. Ella? Ella had sent the letters? But why? Huck wondered, astounded. What on earth had possessed her to do such a thing? What would make her threaten someone she obviously loved?
He’d wanted answers, hadn’t he? Huck thought, sick at his stomach. And he suddenly knew he was about to get them. Dread camping in ever muscle, without saying a word, he carefully picked it up and laid it next to her plate.
The older woman saw the letter, gasped softly, then stilled and slowly turned to look at him.
Sapphira had noticed the exchange and frowned. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Ella, you’re pale. Are you feeling all right?” She squinted and he heard her inhale sharply when she saw the single letter. “Where did that come from? Did another letter come today?”
Ella seemed to shrink in her seat. “No, provided the mail doesn’t make a mistake, it’ll get here tomorrow.”
So she’d mailed another one today, Huck thought, still shocked. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Couldn’t make it all add up and resemble anything close to sense.
Another furrow rolled over Sapphira’s brow. “Come tomorrow? But how do you know--“ She pulled in a startled breath as realization seemed to dawn. “Ella?” she asked, pain, disbelief and betrayal crowding into her voice.
Huck continued to remain quiet and watched the scene unfold surreally before him.
Ella reached across the table and took Sapphira’s hand. “Don’t be angry at me, child. I never expected your father to hire security guards,” she said, shooting a look in his direction. “I was hoping to jar some sense back into the man, to make him realize that while he no longer had Nicky, he still had you. I-I wanted him to find out about your charity work, about your mentoring and Carmen, about your time spent the inner city, because it isn’t safe and--
Sapphira gasped. “Ella how many times do I have to tell you--“
“Let me finish,” she insisted. “Please.” She let out a little sigh. “I wanted him to find out about how much of yourself you give away, because that’s something to be proud of, ma chere.” Her voice broke and her watery eyes begged for understanding. “I thought if he knew you those things about you, that he would wake up and let you be who you are--not a pampered heiress but a humanitarian with a huge heart and a capacity for caring for other people that is so honest and true that it mak
es me so, so very proud of you. You’re a good girl, Sapphira, and you deserve better.”
She paused and lifted her chin in the same way he’d seen Sapphira do so many times over the past few days. “I could tell lie and tell you that I’m sorry, but I’m not. I’d been fully prepared to stop the letters, because I could tell that your father, as usual, had taken the wrong tact.” She smiled sadly and lifted a shoulder in a shrug and her gaze slid to Huck. “But then I saw you with him--I saw the way you looked at each other--and if the letters would have stopped coming, then he would have left. And that, of course, wouldn’t do.” A weary smile shaped her lips. “What was an old former nanny who loves you like her very own supposed to do?”
“Well, for starters--“ Sapphira’s cell, her ringtone set to Fergie’s Glamourous, suddenly cut her off. She sprang from her chair as if she were on fire and quickly shoved her hand into her purse to retrieve the mobile. A quick look at the display made a smile appear on her lips. “Hello. Right. I’m on my way.” Her gaze swung to Ella. “I’ll deal with you when I get back.”
“Where are you going?”
“Carmen’s water has broken. I’m going to the hospital.” Her gaze tangled with his and she hesitated. “Huck, I--“
“I’ll drive,” he said, backing away from the table, unsurprised. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the mysterious Carmen was who she’d been meeting at the doctor’s office. Technically, since the source of the letters had been discovered and she was really not in danger, his services were null and void and no longer required. He knew that, but he still had questions he wanted answered.
Furthermore, the end of the case also ended the need to be with her twenty-four seven. The mere idea that he no longer had a reason--aside from being in love with her--to be with her made a needle of panic prick his heart, his palms sweat and a clammy wash spread over his skin.
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