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As I leave the dining room, I feel him behind me. I walk steadily but slowly through the tilting hallway to the first set of doors connecting this car to mine. The latch is stiff, and I jerk, trying to open it until warm hands cover mine. Another shiver as I’m surrounded by the scent of fresh citrus and clean linen.
He pulls the latch easily to the side, and I whisper a thank you. He doesn’t speak, and I continue through the next hallway with him at my back, all the way to my door.
With every step closer, the muscles in my stomach grow tighter. My heart squeezes out every beat, and anticipation flames hot in my veins. My entire body is tight as a wire when I touch my door handle.
He waits, and my insides clench. My chest rises and falls rapidly as I slide the wooden door open and step into the dim, narrow room. I don’t close the door behind me. I remain facing the bed, which has already been turned down. A small square of chocolate is on my pillow.
Behind me, I hear the door slide shut, and my hand covers my stomach. I turn slowly to see him waiting there, standing just inside the room. His blue eyes are round as if he’s wondering what I will do, if I will scream or tell him to get out.
He couldn’t be more wrong.
I’m the first to speak. “I thought you were dead.”
“I never thought I’d see you again.” His voice is quiet like mine, thick with tension.
“What happened to you?” It’s out before I can stop it—the question has been cycling in my brain for years.
He answers as if he knew it would be the first thing I’d ask.
“They took me as far away as they possibly could, dumped me in a ditch in the wilds of Alaska.” He hesitates, clearing his throat before continuing. “What happened to you?”
Shame flares in my chest. “It doesn’t matter. You’re a cop now?”
“A detective, yeah.”
“I’m sorry.” My chin drops, and a curtain of hair slides past my cheek. “I didn’t mean it that way—”
“It’s okay.” His voice gentles, and I dare to look up through my lashes.
A near-smile is in his eyes, and I acknowledge he’s even more handsome now. He’s a man.
“It’s what you always wanted to do. You never changed your mind?”
His brow lowers, and his face grows darker as he thinks about my question. “I wanted to keep you safe,” he says. “I had no power to stop them then, but now—”
“No!” I take a half step forward, and my hand rises. “You did. You were my hero…”
“Heroes didn’t last long in that place.”
The words are bitter, and it almost seems as if he’s been repeating them in his mind the way I’ve been repeating the sight of him battered and bloody, the men kicking him over and over, the gurgling sound of blood filling his lungs, his mouth, until the blow to his head I thought had finished him.
“You’re stronger now. You look…” My cheeks heat as if I’m still a girl. Silly. “You look really good.”
“You’re more beautiful than my memories.” His blue eyes are serious, and I see the lines around his mouth at the edges of his beard. His sensual mouth… “I’ve never forgotten you.”
Those words light a fire in the center of my tight stomach. He moves closer, and my insides quiver, my body draws to him. He’s so close now, my hand is on his chest, and when he looks down, his breath skates over my skin, raising the little hairs there.
“Sometimes when I’d lie in my bed at night alone, I’d imagine you’d escaped from that place.” He places his palm against the bare skin of my upper arm before slowly closing his fingers around me. It’s such a sensual gesture, possessive. “And now you’re here. What are the chances?”
Pretty good, I think, but I don’t want to think that. I want to savor this moment, hold it close and revel in it.
“Sometimes when I’d lie in bed at night alone, I’d remember your kiss.” My voice wavers. “I’d think of how you wanted us to run away.” Blinking up, I meet his darkened eyes. “Where would you have taken us?”
&nb
sp; “Anywhere. I would have taken you anywhere to keep you with me.”
My chin lifts, and I mean it as an invitation. “I would have gone.”
