share my acceptance letter from the University of Texas with my mother. I
can see the blue jean skirt and red tank top I am wearing, and the smell of
the honeysuckle bushes off the side of our huge wooden porch is ripe in my
nostrils. I reach for the doorknob to open it and freeze at the sound of my
mother shouting. It isn’t about the money. It was never about money.
“Amy.”
I blink and realize that I am on the bed with Liam sitting beside me,
his hand on my leg, and I do not remember how I got here. “I, ah…”
“Blacked out,” he says. “You scared the fuck out of me.”
“I’m sorry. I…” I sit up and lean against the headboard. “I’m okay.”
It’s not about the money. I hear my mother’s voice in my head again and
drop my face to my hand. Desperately at times, I have tried to remember
my mother’s voice, to hear my mother’s voice, to remember the way she
used to run around the house singing to the radio. But not today, not in this
partially formed memory some part of me seems to be clawing to get at
while another blocks it from entry. Maybe it isn’t even real. Sometimes I
don’t know what is or isn’t anymore. I do not know how I can want to know
the truth and fear it this badly.
Liam’s hand settles on the side of my head and he presses his cheek
to mine. “You’re okay, baby. I’m here and nothing is going to happen to
you.” My hand goes to his, and I want to tell him it’s not me I’m worried
about. It’s him. He strokes my hair and leans back, gently turning my face to
his. “Can you walk to the car?”
The dull throb in my forehead is easing, but I must not be
clearheaded because I truly have no idea what he’s talking about. “Car?
Where are we going?”
“We need to go to the ER and make sure you’re okay.”
I stiffen and fight through the clawing sensation in my gut, the
aftermath of hearing my mother’s voice. “No. No ER. It’s cluster headaches.
They feel eternal but they only last a few minutes.”
“How often?”
“They went away several years ago and just started again.”
“Have you had an MRI?”
“Yes. I’m fine. They usually can’t explain why they happen to
sufferers. They just happen. I’m supposed to watch for triggers like stress,
change of environment, and what I eat.
I’m sure it’s the move.”
“Do you take meds?”
“There isn’t much they can do for them since they come fast and
hard. Acupuncture helped. They went away for years after I tried it.”
“And they just came back today?”
“A couple of days ago.”
His hands curve around my calves and he scoots closer. “Nightmares
and cluster headaches. I’m not going to ask all the questions that come to
mind. Not now, but sometime soon you’re going to have to tell me. You
know that, right?”
All too well, I think. “Moving here was a big decision, Liam. I’ve
always been like this.
Big things mess with me. It goes way back to my childhood Godzilla
nightmares.”
“I’ll take that answer for now as long as you agree to see a doctor.”
“I don’t need a doctor.”
“What if you’d been driving?”
“I wasn’t.”
“Or walking down the stairs. I’m going to be stubborn on this. You
need to see a doctor.”
“Acupuncture is what worked before. I’ll find a place to go.”
“I think you should be checked out by a real doctor again to be safe.”
“I’m not spending thousands of dollars for them to run MRIs and
tests to tell me what I already know.”
“Humor me and see someone. I’ll pay for it.”
“Stop trying to spend money on me.”
“Stop hyper-focusing on the money. This isn’t about—”
My head pinches. “Stop. Stop. Don’t say it again. I get it. You have
money and you spend $100 bills like it’s my penny. But I am not wasting it,
no matter how much of it you have. I know what works and that’s
acupuncture.” And it does. It’s how I’d recovered years before.
Disapproval furrows his brow. “I’ll get you an appointment, but if it
doesn’t work—”
“It will and I can get my own appointment.”
“But you won’t because you want to save money, which is exactly
why I’m going to take some of the pressure off of you. Tomorrow I’m going
to the leasing office and paying your rent for a year, and—”
“No, I told you. I’m not going to take your money.”
“It’s done, baby. No strings attached. No conditions. If you want to
ask for a refund after I pay it, you can donate the money to charity, but I
won’t take it back. A gift is a gift and I expect nothing in return. Not even a
promise of tomorrow.” He leans in and kisses me, and I mean to pull back
but his tongue presses past my teeth for one irresistible, deep, silky caress,
before he adds, “And tomorrow won’t be enough.”
“Liam—”
He gives me another quick kiss and I lose my thought. “Stop kissing
me,” I reprimand, sounding completely unconvincing. “You’re trying to
distract me.”
“Is it working?”
“Yes. That’s the problem.”
“Then why would I stop?” he queries, looking exceedingly pleased
with himself. He leans in for yet another kiss.
I press my fingers to his lips. “No. Not again. I remember what I was
saying. Please stop throwing money at me.”
He covers my fingers with his hand. “I want to do this for you, Amy.”
His voice softens, turning gravelly. “Please let me.”
Please let him? My heart squeezes with the sincerity I sense in him
and I reach up and stroke his cheek, then trace the line of his goatee. He is
amazing and generous and so much more than I bargained for in every
possible way. “You’re new territory to me, Liam. I have never met anyone
like you. You’re overbearingly generous and overwhelmingly male, or
maybe it’s the reverse. Sometimes I don’t know how to respond.”
He pulls me down on the bed and under him. “I’d say I’d show you,
but I think we better wait until later considering you blacked out on me a
few minutes ago.”
“I told you. I know what is wrong. It’s over. I’m fine. Show me.”
“Your sure?”
Finally, a question I can answer without hesitation. “Yes. Please.”
Please take me away and block a piece of my past that is clawing its way
through me.
***
It’s nearly one in the afternoon, and Liam and I are walking through
the hotel lobby, our fingers laced together. I am such a nervous wreck I do
not even care that wearing the same dress as the night before screams
“sleepover” to the hotel staff. I cannot walk away from memories that hold
answers, but at the same time my mind rejects even thinking about what
that means right now. Not when Liam and I are heading to my apartment
so I can change clothes before we go to the cellular store and pick up my ID,
which is just another chance for Liam to find out it’s a Colorado license.
&
nbsp; Before I deal with that potential bombshell, I have to explain why my things
I left in New York City haven’t been delivered. I hate lying, but I hate the
idea of Liam being put in danger far more. I just want it over with, but a
voice in my head quickly whispers, Lies breed lies. But questions breed
questions, and when I made the decision to stay with Liam, I made the
decision, like it or not, to own being Amy Bensen with him.
Liam and I step beyond the awning of the hotel exit and into the
beaming sunlight. I cast his profile an inspection, and my breath hitches at
how exquisitely male he is, his thick, dark hair a finger-combed sexy mess.
He’s dressed in a snug black polo pullover, black jeans, and some kind of
deck shoes. Half an hour ago, he was exquisite in nothing but droplets of
water and the soap that I had the pleasure of lathering him with. I have
never showered with a man. I have never felt like this about anyone. I don’t
know what “this” is, except that it’s intense in all the right ways and I don’t
want my past to destroy it before it ever takes form, as it has every other
relationship I’ve had in my life.
We pause at the curb to allow cars to pass before we cross the street
to my apartment and I steal a glimpse of Liam to discover him doing the
same to me. He smiles a devastatingly sexy smile at me, and pulls me under
his arm, melding our hips together. My arm slides around his waist and he
leans down and gives me a quick peck on the lips. A sweet, hot spot forms
in my chest. It is this moment that speaks to me in a way all the hot sex
we’ve had last night and this morning cannot. He doesn’t do relationships. I
don’t do relationships, and yet that is exactly what it feels like we are doing.
We cross the street without breaking apart, and I have this sense of
being sheltered from the storm brewing all around me. At the apartment
elevator, Liam doesn’t seem keen on letting me go, and we huddle in the
car, still holding onto each other. I think of the leasing office providing me
instructions for my work assignments and a needling begins inside me. Why
exactly would my handler leave anything with anyone for me?
Approaching my apartment door, I dig for my key, and will my nerves
to calm down. The “zone” my fake self slides into to perform seems to be
pretty much non-existent where Liam is concerned, and I have to find it
now. For his own good.
Somehow, I unlock the door with a steady hand. The walls I erect
while inside my zone are trying to form, but they are as paper-thin as my
ability to resist this man. Entering the hallway, Liam is on my heels, but I
pause in front of him, and I flip on the light, stalling to inhale a deep breath
before letting him follow me forward. I turn to wait on him to shut the
door, blocking his entry, a soldier drawing a hard line.
He arches a brow and I really wish he wasn’t so damn sexy when he
did that. “Don’t jump to conclusions,” I warn. “The moving company lost
my things. I’m filing a claim. I took out the insurance I needed so I’ll have
my things replaced, so don’t go offering to help. I don’t need help.”
“It could take weeks to get a check.”
“I bought some things to get me by today.”
He stares down at me with that unreadable mask he wears like a
champion poker player, and then grabs my hand and says, “Show me.”
“Show you what?”
“Exactly what you have to survive on the next few weeks until you
get a check.” He doesn’t give me time to argue, dragging me with him to
the bedroom, and straight to my closet.
I cringe when he opens the door to the empty room and then
actually glares at me as if I’ve done something wrong. “What exactly is it
that you bought to get you by?”
“It’s not your business to—”
“I’m making it my business.” He releases my hand and walks to the
dresser, opening several empty drawers and removing the limited items I
purchased yesterday, setting them all on the bed. “This is what you call
getting by?” He looks at a price tag and grimaces. “A couple of outfits from
the bargain racks and not much else?”
My defenses prickle. “I’m not spending money I don’t have to.”
He grabs me and sits down on the bed, leading me between his legs,
his fingers playing on my hips, his mouth pressing to my belly. It’s so
unexpected that my mood softens instantly and I almost forget how
overbearing he is being. “Change clothes and let’s get out of here,” he says
softly. “I don’t like this apartment or you in it.”
My suspicion over him not pushing me on the purchase of more
clothing takes a backseat to his concern over my living arrangements.
“What’s wrong with this place and me in it?”
“Aside from me preferring you in my hotel and my bed, I don’t like
the premise of a boss you’ve never met arranging your lease.”
He is turning the pages on my cover story far too quickly. “Lots of
employers line up housing when employees relocate.”
“Not for an employee they don’t intend to keep for more than a few
months.”
“My ex-boss is good friends with him and all he did was contact his
realtor to find me something.”
“Are you certain he’s not on the lease and has no access to the
apartment?”
He hits a nerve that is already open. “Of course he doesn’t have
access.”
“Nevertheless, I’m going to get your locks changed.”
“You can’t just decide to change my locks, Liam,” I say, despite that
being exactly what I intend to do. I have to reel him in before he dials into
things that get him into trouble. “And you can’t just take over my life.”
“I’m not asking for a key.”
“No. You’d just take one. And this isn’t about a key. It’s about you
being assuming and bossy.”
His hands slide under my dress, up the back of my thighs. “You like
those things.”
“Sometimes.” Often. Too often. I fear it speaks of just how much I’m
breaking down again. “And those times usually include us not wearing
clothing.”
“Just stay with me at the hotel. Problem solved.”
My desire to escape to his world and block out my own is so intense
it’s frightening. Too easily he could leave and I will be broken and alone
again. “I need to stay here and start making this home.”
“I have room service, which lets us stay in bed longer and more
often.”
A knock sounds on the door and I tense before I can stop myself.
“Expecting someone?”
Liam asks.
“I don’t know anyone to expect,” I tell him and my mind races. Who
would visit me except maybe my handler? And I haven’t even checked the
email I was given. The very idea that I’ve missed something important sets
my heart leapfrogging. I flash back to the call in the hospital. They’re
coming for you. If they come for me, they could come for Liam too.
Chapter Fifteen
I twist out of Liam’s arms and rush for the hallway, certain he will
&n
bsp; follow. Eager to get as much of a jumpstart on him as I can, I all but sprint
the rest of the distance and a second knock sounds on the door right as I
reach for the knob. I don’t bother with “who is it?” as I normally would. I
yank the door open and I am both stunned and relieved to find Jared
leaning casually on the doorframe, one elbow on the frame above his head,
a Boeing logo on his pale blue t-shirt.
He straightens when he sees me, one thin strand of light brown hair
falling from the clasp at the back of his neck. “Hey,” he says, and offers me
a sexy smile I imagine a guy like him has down to a science.
That familiar sensation I get with him is back. “Hi.”
He pulls an envelope from behind his back and the adrenaline
already racing through me spikes. “This blew off of your door so I thought
I’d hold onto it for you,” he explains, and offers it to me.
Remarkably my hand does not shake as I accept it, and I note that it’s
free of any text or stickers. It’s also not sealed. “I appreciate you doing
this.”
“It gave me an excuse to check on you.” He gives me a half-smile I
just manage to return as he adds, “You gave me a scare yesterday. I actually
came by last night before the envelope to check on you but you didn’t
answer. I was concerned about you being alone after you almost bit the
dust.”
“She wasn’t alone. She was with me, and what do you mean she
almost bit the dust?”
Liam steps by my side, his hand sliding around my waist, and the
touch is a branding, his hip leaning into mine, fingers flexing into my skin.
The two men’s gazes lock and I am suddenly swimming in a pool of
testosterone, in need of a life raft. The crackle of power being pulled and
pushed is almost palpable. The certainty Liam and I will have words over
the encounter: absolute. He’s out of control, or rather, he’s making me out
of control.
“Liam Stone,” I say, “meet Jared Ryan. Jared lives across the hall, or
at least he will for thirty days.”
“Thirty days?”
“That’s right,” Jared says, offering no explanation, the two-word
answer hanging in the air with the heaviness of a storm cloud about to
erupt. Silence lingers and we all three just stand there. And stand there. Oh
good grief, I’m losing my mind. Someone say something!