Chapter 10
Lucas had insisted Marisa go to sleep. He’d declared her pale and exhausted, and when Sherry had agreed, she’d gone to the spare room. By the time she’d changed into a gown and slipped under the covers, sleep had taken her swiftly.
But even the deepest sleeps can be penetrated.
Most nights when she awoke it was with worry over work.
Tonight, it had been to the scrape of metal, car against car, and the sound of her own beating heart hammering in her brain.
Damp palms gripping the steering wheel, she’d dreamed of a car swerving into her as fear ripped screams from her lungs and her car careened over the embankment. So helpless.
Marisa woke with a jerk, hands covering her face as a cry escaped her lips. Her breathing labored as if a weight rested on her chest.
She’d had plenty of bad dreams as a kid after her parents had divorced. All left her weeping in the middle of the night, alone because her mother, lost in her own grief, had turned to sleeping pills and rarely heard Marisa’s cries.
She glanced around the unfamiliar room, trying to anchor herself in the present just as she’d done as a child.
Catalogue. Analyze. She searched for her belongings, but when she didn’t see her battered backpack, muddied hiking boots, or her clothes strewn in careless piles on the floor, panic flared.
Sweat dampening her brow, she reminded herself to breathe.
Breathe. In and out. Finally, sleep’s haze evaporated like the morning mist, and she could analyze the room’s puzzle pieces—a cherry dresser and mirror, pastel curtains, a rocking chair, and a handmade quilt warming the bed. Sherry’s house.
A light clicked on in the hallway and after a soft knock on her door, it opened. The light illuminated a man’s large, broad-shouldered frame. “Marisa?”
She recognized Lucas’s deep voice and sat taller, ashamed that she’d cried out in her sleep. “Sorry, did I wake you?”
His shirt open over worn jeans, he hovered in the doorway as if he approached uncharted territory. “I was awake. Not much of a sleeper.”
She pushed the hair back from her eyes, realizing the sound of his voice had slowed her runaway pulse. “I’m sorry.”
He leaned against the doorjamb, in no rush to leave. “Don’t be sorry. You’ve had one heck of a week.”
“It’s one for the record books.” A ghost of a smile tugged the edges of her lips as she rose up out of bed. She needed to stand on her own two feet and prove to Lucas and herself that she was just fine. Her gown brushed her ankles and billowed around her small frame. “Did anyone else hear me?”
“No. Just me. I’m bunked with the boys and those three rascals sleep like the dead.”
“That I envy. I’ve not slept through the night in years.”
His head tilted a fraction, as if she’d piqued his curiosity. “Why’s that?”
“Who’s to say?” Of course, she knew. It was the constant feeling that if she didn’t keep working and pushing, that she’d somehow be left behind. The feeling had stalked her since the night her father had moved out of the house. Reinforced when her mother died. Sleep was an unaffordable luxury.
A shake of his head told her he didn’t believe the evasion, but he was too polite to call her out on it. “I can brew us a pot of coffee.”
“What time is it?”
“Just after four.”
As much as a cup of coffee tempted, if she drank it now, hope of any sleep would vanish. And she needed to rest and give her body time to mend. “Thanks, but I better not. Still a little early, even for me.”
She’d refused him but remained rooted in the same spot, not willing to return to her bed alone or act on a rising temptation to move closer to him.
He pushed away from the doorjamb, but instead of taking a step back, he moved toward her two steps.
One single step would have put him within an arm’s reach of her.
He flexed and unflexed the fingers of his right hand before he stilled them, as if recognizing the nervous gesture.
“There’s no rush tomorrow. We can leave whenever you’re ready. ”
“I’ll be ready early. I’m not much good at sitting around. And I want to remember the accident and the key to the code.”
“You will. Just takes a bit of time.”
“You sound sure.”
“I am.”
“Are you always this confident?”
“For the most part.” A twinkle in his eyes softened the arrogance of his tone.
“Good to know.”
“What did you dream about?”
A frown furrowed her brow. “I remember hearing the scrape of metal and feeling a hard jolt when the other driver hit me.”
A scowl darkened his face.
She thought for a moment. Until now, she could not say it. “I tried to speed up to get out of his way, but he gave chase. When he pulled beside me, he swerved into me.”
The twinkle vanished, replaced by a dangerous fire. “We’ll find him.”
“Like a needle in a haystack.”
“Finding people is what I do.” No doubt lingered under the words. “I found you. Twice.”
She edged a little closer, afraid if she didn’t take the next step that he would leave. He’d met her more than halfway, but the rest was up to her. Dark gray eyes studied the way she moistened her lips, the drape of a stray lock of hair, and her pulse beating in her neck.
She wanted to kiss him. Wanted to taste his lips again. Feel his hands on her body again. Her gaze lowered to her hands and the shorn nails that had been digging in dirt just a week ago.
A jolt of electricity drew her closer. With Lucas, the kissing wouldn’t be polite. It would be primal, hot, and as dangerous as a rattler, as it had been in Mexico.
She wanted to taste dangerous again, knowing that it couldn’t last and that one day, life would pull them apart and in separate directions.
Moistening her lips, she looked into his darkening gaze. Inches separated them, but still he didn’t move. He wanted her to come to him. Really living was exciting and terrifying.
She took another half step and could feel the heat of his body. Inches to go. She stared up at granite features made all the sharper by the light cutting in from the hallway. He looked at her as if no other person in the world existed.
Could a kiss be any riskier than what she’d survived? The answer came easily. With Lucas, loving would indeed be a hazard.
She laid a hand on his chest and felt the drumming of his heart. He might look as still as a mountain, but underneath, his energy stirred like a volcano.
He put a hand on her shoulder, using his thumb to trace the bone along her shoulder. Her nerves danced and her senses sharpened. “I never forgot how smooth your skin felt.”
She thought of the callouses marring her palms. “You remember?”
“Every detail.”
“When you woke up in Merida, I was gone.”
Gray eyes darkened with a mixture of anger and passion. “Roses have thorns. That’s what makes them interesting.”
He raised his hand to her cheek and grazed his knuckle along her cheekbone. “You’re interesting. Intoxicating. Frustrating. I like the challenge.”
He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. The touch reminded her of butterflies skittering across her skin. Again, he kept the pace slow, as if he wanted her to set the tempo.
She wrapped her hands around his neck and, rising on tiptoes, pressed into the kiss. His arms immediately banded around her narrow waist, and he lifted her off the ground as he deepened the kiss.
The moment swept over her like a tropical storm and she found herself longing for the touch of his hands on her body.
In the house, footsteps creaked on the second floor.
His hand, moving from her shoulder to her breast, stilled.
He pulled back and allowed a sigh of frustration.
“This is not how I pictured our reunion.”
She moistened her lips, trying to push back the wave of desire that had come with the force of a twister. “You imagined?”
He cupped her face with his hand, coaxing her to open her eyes and look at him. “More times than I could count.”
Heat warmed her cheeks. “Oh.”
Another creak echoed in the house, reminding them both where they stood. His hands glided over her arms. “We’ll wait until we have a proper bed and more privacy than my sister’s house can give.” His voice deepened with a promise he sounded determined to keep.
Disappointment circled around and howled that promises were meant to be broken. With an effort, she released her grip. “I don’t know what to say.”
His head cocked a fraction. “Mind, this is no rejection. It’s an admittance the timing is bad, and we will return to this. That’s a promise.”
A nervous laugh bubbled in her throat. “I’m supposed to sleep now?”
He glanced back at her, a lightness humming under the remaining passion. “I did try to offer you coffee.”
With his scent still lingering on her, she crawled back into bed, quite sure she would never sleep again.