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“Sure,” she whispered.
“I’m gonna guess that cowboy likes to dance.”
“And likes songs by a guy called Keith.”
“Uh huh.” His breath fanned her face. “But what he really likes is a girl called Lexi.”
“Alexandra,” she whispered.
He pulled back. “That’s your real name?”
“Yes.”
He studied her a long moment then drew close again, the rasp of his cheek grazing hers before his head tilted and his lips brushed the side of her face. Then he inched back again as her chair creaked. “You know, these seats really aren’t working for me.”
His statement shocked her to laughter, and she didn’t protest as he pulled her up and drew her to a nearby swing chair. It had slightly dew-damp cushions, but she didn’t care.
He wrapped an arm around her in a hold so tender it was like he thought she was made of crystal. Then began the slow exploration of her face with his lips, feathering soft kisses along her brow and cheeks and chin before he lingered, a breath away, at her lips.
She tilted her chin, closed her eyes, and met his mouth with hers.
Stars might meet in the heavens, but it seemed they also met in this kiss. She nestled closer, her stomach fluttering, as her hands slid up into his hair, and his arms slid around to hold her more securely. His lips firmed into passion, possessing hers with a reverent fire that branded her soul and claimed her heart as his.
Oh, this cowboy could kiss.
Judging from his sigh and increased ardor he might feel the same about her. Like God might’ve brought them from opposite corners of the globe to find each other, to fit together, to share a future and a hope. There was magic here, born of starlight and shared breath.
He groaned, and pulled away, his chest pushing in and out. “Wow, Ms. Lexi.”
“Wow yourself, cowboy.”
They stared at each other for a long, long time. Then he traced a hand down her cheek, before his fingers slipped to her chin, then her throat. And she knew what was coming next.
* * *
The sensationof soaring through heavenly heights following the best kiss of Jackson’s life faded as he felt her stiffen. He lifted his finger from the pink seam decorating her throat, and she shifted slightly, putting cool air between them.
“You don’t have to tell me,” he murmured.
“I think I do.”
She leaned her head against his chest, pulling her knees up on the swing and wrapping her arms around them. He tugged her closer, his arm around her shoulders, his chin resting on the crown of her head.
Then she sighed.
Then began to speak.
“I was working in the hospital emergency department one Friday night at the end of February. It was a fairly ordinary shift, triaging patients according to their needs, like kids with broken bones or small toys stuck up their nose, old people’s headaches and shortness of breath—the usual. Then as the night drew on, the end-of-week fun began.” She shivered. “The drunks, the people who spent too long in the pub, whose slurred words and vomiting made life fun.”
Fun? Queen of irony, sitting right here.
“Some were violent, most were not. But the ones to watch out for were those on harder drugs—heroin, speed, and ice.” Her body trembled again, and she nestled deeper into his arms.
“This guy came in. He just looked like the usual drugged-out party dude, except for being a little more handsome than most. At first, he seemed relatively normal. I definitely didn’t expect the sudden escalation in his behavior. One minute he was speaking normally, the next he was shouting at an older-looking couple, terrifying a poor old man who’d dared to ask him to stop swearing.”
She shook her head, and shifted again, moving her head up closer to his. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“I pressed the alarm for security. They’re usually never too far away on weekends, but they’d been responding to an incident in Maternity. I found out later a scuffle had broken out between the father of a new baby and the woman’s ex.”
