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“No.” That would have been too poetic. “Bryan is a police officer. Who would have come to arrest him? His cronies? He bragged to me once that he could have his record completely expunged if I so much as made a single complaint to the police force. I moved out of the house we shared after the second time he hit me and hid out at my mother’s house. That’s when he got really bad. He was so angry, he used detective grade equipment to stalk me. Threatened me. Followed me around and scared my mother.”
“No wonder you’re so skittish sometimes,” Warren muttered. “I owe you a whole lot more apologies, then. I’m sorry if I pressured you in any way. Please don’t take what I told you earlier as any sort of demand on you. I need you at Flying Squirrel. If you quit, the campaign will never be the same.”
Why in the world would she quit the best job that she’d ever had? “I have no intention of quitting. This is my explanation for why I bolted from the terrace. Why I avoided you all day. I don’t do normal interactions with men very well. This is my apology.”
“Tilda…” He shut his eyes and sighed. “This is a lot for me to process.”
“I know.” This marriage of convenience had been so perfect for someone like her who needed to fade into the background. If only she hadn’t asked Warren to kiss her, she might have kept up the facade. “I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you or led you on or gave you false hope. I’m kind of a mess, so keeping things professional is best.”
It was better this way. She’d confessed her shame and it was oddly cathartic. Oddly as if she’d gained a confidante in Warren. He’d go back to treating her with the same reserve he’d exhibited thus far, never barge in on her in the bathroom again and she’d continue to feel safe and in control.
His eyes flew open and the calm, detached CEO had fully vanished. Her breath caught. He was nothing less than fierce and magnificent as he stood, towering over her.
“I’m not disappointed,” he said. “I’m a lot of things right now, but that’s not one of them. Until I sort out the rest, you bet we’re keeping things professional, because if nothing else, we’ve always worked well together. Nothing that’s happened this weekend changes that.”
CHAPTER SIX
Warren wasn’t a jogger. There was something so inane about running for the sake of running. It made so much more sense to have a destination if you were going to tax your body in that manner.
But after learning that he had a desire to murder another human being in cold blood—someone he’d never met and who currently resided half a world away in Australia—running was the only thing that had the slightest chance of keeping him sane. Otherwise, he might get on a plane and make good on the need to see Tilda’s ex so Warren could explain a few things to the man. With his fists.
The farther he ran from his house, the easier it was to keep his hands off Tilda, too, which wasn’t so much of a given after her incredibly brave recitation of the horrors that she’d left behind in Australia. His first instinct had been to reach for her, to engulf her in his embrace. As a shield, first and foremost. She’d needed protection from her ex and hadn’t found it. He was more than willing to step up where the authorities had failed.
First thing tomorrow, he’d hire a fleet of private detectives to find the bastard who had struck Tilda and then Warren would make his life a living hell.
In the meantime, the Australia campaign required his undivided attention and he had about as much chance of working platonically with Tilda as he did of sprouting leaves and bark. But he was going to try because he’d told her he would. They’d both needed space while he spent the night calming down.
The next morning had dawned well before he was ready. He’d subsisted on four hours of sleep before, many times, but never after having erotic dreams starring his wife wearing white lace, a smile and nothing else. He awoke with his body on fire and his mind filled with dirty images that he had no shot at eliminating from his consciousness, not considering he’d be closeted in a small space with Tilda for a good long while.
Of course, the fates had a field day with his beleaguered senses. Tilda emerged from her bedroom at the same time he came from his and they met in the hall.
“I thought we could ride together,” she said with a small smile that was but a shadow of the one she’d worn in his dream. It didn’t seem to matter to his already primed body. “If that’s okay.”
“Sure,” he croaked. “We’re going to the same place.”
