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ChapterTen
Two days and nights passed, and there was still no change in Shane’s condition.
Rachel’s nerves strung tighter the longer time went on and no word came from Jones Daugherty. She found herself jumping at every creak and shadow, and the safe house was starting to feel like a prison instead of a haven. The duffle bags that had belonged to the shooter in Tulsa were full of guns and cash, and she made sure each weapon was loaded and put in a spot she could reach easily.
The wound in Shane’s shoulder was healing nicely, but the fever hadn’t gone away. He woke in fits and starts, and his body was restless on the bed. His speech was jumbled and incomprehensible, except for the times he’d called out for Maggie. It was Maggie he saw in his fevered state, and he’d begged her forgiveness repeatedly. Rachel tried not to let the slip hurt her, but it had. Because she could never be the woman he really wanted.
His nightmares hadn’t stopped just because of his injuries, but now he was trapped in them, caught somewhere between the past and the present, and the torture only stopped when the final scene had played out. It destroyed her to see his torment over and over again, and she was helpless to stop it.
Rachel did her best to cool his fevered body off with damp rags, but his skin was hot to the touch and seemed to grow hotter as the hours passed. She whispered assurances in his ear as he thrashed about on the bed and held him down when his struggles loosened the bandages over his shoulder. She’d had little luck getting medicine or soup down his throat, but the few times he’d woken she’d cajoled, begged, or forced them down. She went to bed each night feeling as if she’d fought a battle. And lost.
* * *
Shane drifted awake slowly, his mind disoriented and his body aching. Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was exactly. He took stock of his body, cataloguing the stiffness in his shoulder and the nagging headache just behind his eyes. He stretched his sore muscles slowly, and cool sheets shifted around his naked body. And as he moved something soft and warm pressed up against him.
He’d know the feel of her anywhere. The scent of her. She was unique in every way, and he was beginning to get used to the way his body hardened every time she was near. But why was Rachel in bed with him, and where were they? What had they done? And why couldn’t he remember?
She was pressed close enough to him so he could feel every curve of her body. He drew her closer and she tangled her legs with his in sleep. Her skin was silky smooth and her hair fell softly over his chest. Her breathing was slow and steady, and he found it sweet the way she snuggled into him, as if she needed him to sleep peacefully.
He wanted her. There was no doubt about that. But he still had his honor, and he knew he could never give her what she deserved. But would it hurt to just kiss her once? To feel the comfort of her embrace?
He could press his advantage. He knew by the way she clung to him that she trusted him, that she felt comfortable with him. And by the way her body moved in her sleep he knew she wanted him. The body was always more honest than the brain.
He shifted, gritting his teeth against the sharp pain in his head at the sudden movement. It wasn’t so bad once he gave himself time to adjust. He was just weak. In more ways than one.
Rachel moaned softly in her sleep, and the aches and pains in his body disappeared as his blood ran hot. His lips touched the crook of her neck and then he worked his way up her jaw to her ear.
“Please,” she whispered in her sleep. “I need you.”
He could stop before things went too far. Maybe if he kept telling himself that he’d eventually start to believe it.
When his lips eventually met hers it was like taking a cool drink of water after being stranded in the desert. A feeling rose up inside him that was familiar but foreign at the same time. It was like coming home after a long trip and being greeted by a stranger who knew all of his favorite things.
Boy, was he in trouble. Because Rachel Valentine was the kind of woman who could make him forget that he’d vowed to go through the rest of his life alone.
He pulled away and dropped his head back on the pillow, moaning as his headache returned. It was less than he deserved.
* * *
Rachel opened her eyes but only saw darkness. Her heart thudded in her chest and tears ran down her cheeks. She wasn’t sure why other than the fact that kissing Shane had been better than any other physical experience she’d ever had. He made her want things she’d never been able to dream of—a life with a man she loved—a family. The kind of family that went to barbecues and church on Sunday instead of laundering money and fitting people for cement shoes.
He was delirious. He had to have been. There was no other reason to kiss her like that. And the sad thing was she wouldn’t have stopped him if he’d pressed for more. He had more integrity in a fever-induced sleep then she did wide awake.
She was angry at herself. And ashamed. And she’d never felt more alone than she did right then. He didn’t really want her. It was important for her to remember that. She’d been called Maggie enough in the last two days to feel a bitter jealousy toward a woman she hadn’t even known.
The anger at herself was quickly replaced by anger at him and her tears dried quickly. She wasn’t a substitute for anyone. She deserved better than that.
She sat up quickly and rolled out of bed, pulling the sheet with her since she was only wearing a loose T-shirt.
“What’s wrong?” Shane asked. “Did you hear something? God, this headache is really getting on my nerves.” He felt around on the nightstand until he found the lamp and flipped it on.
She blinked at the brightness of the light and wished she were back in darkness.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “What’s wrong! How could you do this to me?”
“Do what? Kiss you?” he asked. “I’d like to remind you that you were kissing me back. Very enthusiastically I might add.”
“This isn’t a joke,” she said. “You took advantage of the situation.”
