“I can still feel his hands around my throat, for God’s sake.”
Something dark and ominous flashed in his eyes, and for a moment he looked…dangerous. “No one’s going to hurt you. I promise. You’re safe.”
The first tinges of embarrassment washed over her. She felt the dampness of sweat on her forehead. Heard the rise of hysteria in her voice. She could only imagine what John must think of her. That she was a confused and helpless female. Or, worse, a total nutcase. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“You’re entitled.” Letting out a breath, he scrubbed a hand over his face. “I heard you scream and got here as fast as I could.”
Movement at the bedroom door snagged her attention. Honeybear watched them, his tail tucked between his legs, looking as if he was trying to decide whether to duck under the bed—or make a run for the other bedroom.
In spite of the fear and confusion clouding her brain, Hannah heard herself laugh. “Looks like you’re not the only one I scared.” Another breath, and she began to feel steadier. She looked at John. “I don’t normally dream so vividly. I must sound like a raving lunatic. I can’t imagine what you must think of me.”
“I think you’ve been through some physical and emotional trauma.” Reaching out, he set his hand gently on her shoulder. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed by.”
Her heart rate should have slowed, but it didn’t. Hannah wasn’t naive enough to believe the rise of her pulse rate was from the nightmare. She knew herself well enough to know it had more to do with his proximity and the way he was looking at her.
That was when she realized he was sitting on the bed next to her wearing nothing more than a pair of tapered boxer shorts. She knew she should look away, but her eyes refused to obey and skimmed over him in a single sweep. She’d figured he worked out. A man who made his living jumping out of helicopters had to be in top physical shape. But nothing had prepared her for the sight of six feet four inches of solid male. His shoulders were broad and corded with muscle. His chest was wide and covered with a thatch of black hair that ran unchecked down his washboard belly then tapered to a point that disappeared into the waistband of his boxers.
Disconcerted by the sight—and her reaction to him—Hannah quickly averted her eyes, wishing in vain she hadn’t noticed. She had enough to worry about without realizing her protector had a to-die-for, gorgeous body.
His left arm was wrapped protectively around her shoulders. He was so close she could feel the heat of his body coming through the T-shirt she wore. She definitely liked his aftershave. Well, if it hadn’t been so drugging. At some point, he’d threaded his fingers with hers. She tried not to think about the solid warmth of his thigh against hers. Or that for the first time in what seemed like forever, she felt totally safe.
“You okay now?” he asked quietly.
“Better.” She smiled, but it felt forced. She was still shaking inside, though now she had to wonder how much of it was from the nightmare and how much was her reaction to the man sitting next to her.
“Do you want to talk about the dream?”
She didn’t particularly, not when she was feeling so vulnerable and raw. But the logical side of her brain figured talking about it might help to dislodge the memories her mind had locked away.
Easing her hand from his, she shoved her hair from her face and took a deep breath. “It was the same as the flashbacks. I’m running. There’s snow and it’s cold, and I’m terrified. Only, this time, he was closer….”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. A…man.”
“How do you know this person is a man?”
“I saw his silhouette in the car.”
“What kind of car?”
Her heart kicked when she realized she remembered more now than she had when she’d gone to sleep. Closing her eyes, she tried to envision it. “I don’t know. Dark. Blue or black, maybe. Large. I can’t tell. I just see the headlights.”
“An SUV, maybe?”
“Maybe.”
“What about the man?”
“I’m afraid of him. Not just a little. But a lot. I know what he’s capable of.” She could barely hear herself speak above the pounding of her heart. “I know him. I know him well.”
“What’s his name?”
“I don’t know.” A nervous laugh broke from her throat. “That makes a lot of sense, doesn’t it?”
“It doesn’t matter if it makes sense. Just talk to me. Get this out while it’s fresh in your mind. We’ll figure out what it means later.”
Hannah closed her eyes and let her mind take her back to the dream. She could still feel the spike of terror. The pain of his fingers biting into her throat. The shock of the first blow.
“He struck me.”
John’s face went dark, his jaws flexing like steel.
“It wasn’t the first time.” She felt herself recoil, like an insect that curled in on itself when prodded with a sharp stick by a cruel child. The shame inside her swelled like a fresh bruise. “I had a relationship with him. Not too long ago. But I walked away. It was…over.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” Setting his forefinger under her chin, he forced her gaze to his. “I’m sorry he hurt you.”
She wasn’t sure why, but she had a difficult time meeting his gaze.
“Whatever happened, it’s not your fault,” he said.
“I know.”
He gripped her hand tighter. “What else do you remember?”
“That night in the woods. He was going to kill me. If I hadn’t gotten away, he would have….” She swallowed hard. “Not only would he have killed me…but my baby.” Her own words shook her so thoroughly that for a moment, she couldn’t speak.
John cursed beneath his breath. “Do you know why, Hannah?”
“No.” She swallowed hard, felt the tempo of her heart increase, heard the rush of blood through her veins augment into a dull roar as fragments of the dream pummeled her.
“What else?”
“I ran until I couldn’t go on. I was terrified. I didn’t want my baby to die. When I reached the cliff…” Her mind rebelled against the knowledge of what she’d done next. The truth terrified her almost as much as not being able to remember. “Oh my God.” She raised her eyes to his. “I didn’t fall, John.”
“He pushed you?”
The words chilled her, but not as much as the ones she was about to utter. “No.”
Turning slightly on the bed, John touched her face gently. “Tell me what happened, Hannah.”
“I…jumped.”
His eyes narrowed. “To get away from him?”
She could barely bring herself to say the words. “I figured I had a better chance of surviving a fall.”
“Good Lord.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, then gazed at her over his fingertips. In the depths of his eyes, Hannah saw the slow boil of outrage. And for the first time, she also saw that he believed her. She wasn’t sure why, but the fact that he did brought tears to her eyes.
“It’s going to be all right,” he said.
“I want to believe that. I’m not sure I do.”
He thumbed a tear from her cheek. “Ah, you’re not going to cry on me now, are you, Red?”
“Probably,” she said. “If the situation is right, I can cry buckets, you know.”
“You really know how to scare a guy.”
A laugh squeezed from her tight throat. “I go right for the big guns.”
“I don’t have any tissues on me, but I’ve got a pretty solid shoulder.” One side of his mouth curved. “Will that do?”
Pulling back slightly, she looked at him through her tears.
“Come here,” he said.
“You sure about this?”
“I’m sure.” He reached for her, tugged her closer.
Hannah closed her eyes and laid her head against the solid mass of his shoulder.
“I know this is hard for you, but you’re doing f
ine,” he said.
“I hate being afraid. I’m not a coward.”
“I know you’re not.”
She sighed when his arms went around her. She snuggled closer, telling herself it was nothing more than a comforting hug between friends in the aftermath of a traumatic ordeal. If only she could make herself believe that.
“You remembered some important things tonight,” he said. “If the dreams and the flashbacks you’re having are memories trying to surface, I think that’s good.”
“I just wish they weren’t so frightening. I wish I could remember without having to relive it.”
“If it’s any consolation, I’m here for you, okay?”
The sweetness of the words brought a fresh rush of tears to her eyes. “Now you’re going to make me cry.”
“You’re welcome to stay for a few more days if you need to.”
“I don’t know, John. I’ve got a lot going on in my head.” Not to mention the little problem of her insane attraction to him.
“If you’re worried about that kiss…”
“Among other things.” Pulling back slightly, she looked at him. “I didn’t think of it earlier, but my being here…I could have put you in danger, too.”
His smile warmed her despite the cold press of fear. “I’m flattered that you’d worry about me, Red, but I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself and you, too. No one’s going to hurt either of us.”
She nodded, but she wasn’t sure she believed it.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked.
“Yes. Thank you.”
His aftershave was getting to her again, making her feel pleasantly dizzy. She told herself the light-headedness was merely an aftereffect of the nightmare, but she knew it had more to do with the way her heart was zinging around in her chest.
When she raised her eyes to his, she knew neither of them was thinking about the nightmare any longer. In the span of an instant, something had shifted. A subtle transition that put them on equal ground, but with treacherous footing. One slip, and they would fall headlong into yet uncharted territory.
His face was only inches from hers, so close she could see the heavy stubble of his beard. She had the sudden urge to run her fingers over the black shadow, but she didn’t. She knew if she touched his face, he would touch her back and things would get out of hand like they had back at Angela Pearl’s.
Hannah knew the moment couldn’t go on. It wouldn’t take much for her to make another mistake with this man. They were playing a dangerous game by getting this close. He was kind and patient and just cocky enough to keep her on her toes. She was attracted to him beyond reason. Light-years beyond good sense. The combination was volatile at best. Downright explosive if she wanted to be truthful about it.
But temptation wreaked havoc on her willpower until it bowed beneath the power of his gaze. Forgetting good judgment and the hundred other reasons why she shouldn’t kiss him, Hannah leaned forward and pressed her mouth against his.
* * *
The kiss should have been chaste, but it wasn’t. John accepted her mouth, tasted heat and desire and the bitter taste of his own frustration. He endured the contact with stoic passivity. His arms remained at his sides. All the while his heart raged like a caged beast against his ribs.
It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to keep himself from deepening the kiss. His intellect waged a bloody battle with the side of him that didn’t give a damn about right or wrong or any of those gray areas in between. But his blood was pounding. An alarm wailed in the back of his mind. The kind that usually went off an instant before he did something stupid. And he knew if she didn’t pull back in about two seconds, his discipline was going to crumple and he was definitely going to do something stupid.
She didn’t pull back.
John didn’t remember reaching for her. She was incredibly small. Slender, but it wasn’t for lack for curves. Hannah had plenty of curves. She wasn’t wearing much beneath that T-shirt, either. His intellect might have known better than to notice, but his body had moved beyond good judgment and responded with an urgency that left him grappling for control—and in dire need of a cold shower.
Her lips were soft and enticing beneath his. Her scent wound around his brain like an entrancing mist, sinking into him, through him, until he was drunk on it. Her hair brushed across his cheek, making him wonder what it would be like to get lost in it. His fingers itched to ease her hair aside and bare her throat, so he could get a taste of the succulent flesh beneath. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and take her down on the mattress. He wanted her beneath him. He wanted to kiss her until neither of them could see straight. He wanted to get inside her, lose himself in her wet heat.
Need coiled low and hot in his belly, burning him. The blood built painfully in his groin. Urgency gripped him like a vise. The power of the sensations shocked him. Insanity beckoned like a siren to a sea-weary sailor.
Lust, he told himself in a moment of panic. He could deal with lust. He understood the dynamics of it, accepted it as part of being a man. It was all the other feelings roiling around in his head that worried the hell out of him.
His control shattered when she slipped her tongue between his lips. Raising his hands to her face, he tilted her head back and deepened the kiss. Using his tongue, he savored the sweetness of her mouth. Hannah gasped, but he swallowed the sound, went deeper, tasting, seeking, needing. Vaguely he was aware of her arms going around his neck. Her body coming against his. He moved over her. Never letting go of him, she eased onto her back beneath him. John came down on top of her. The earth moved when her legs opened to him. The need to get inside her blindsided him with such power that his head swam.
What the hell was he doing?
Sanity descended with a resonant thud. John broke the kiss, rolled off of her and got unsteadily to his feet. Hannah sat up quickly, her eyes startled and large. For a stunned moment they stared at each other, the only sound coming from their labored breathing.
“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” she said after a moment.
“That kiss wasn’t such a good idea,” he heard himself say.
“I was just…”
“Yeah, me, too.” His voice sounded like two pieces of rusty steel grating together. “Nothing happened.”
“We’re still fully clothed.”
Embarrassment sloshed over him when he realized he was standing there in his boxer shorts and in an obvious state he didn’t even want to think about. Turning away, he started toward the door.
“John, I’m sorry I…woke you, but…thanks.”
Guilt nudged at him for lusting after a pregnant woman who’d obviously been through so much. If his common sense hadn’t intervened, he might have… Ruthlessly he cut the thought short. “I’ll check the doors before I turn in.”
“John—”
“Get some sleep, Red.” He left the room without looking back.
* * *
Hannah woke to sunshine. It streamed through the window above her bed like yellow beams of spun gold. Outside, the spindly boughs of a conifer cradled handfuls of snow and scratched against the glass like a cold little bird. For a moment, she was disoriented. Moving tentatively, she felt her sore muscles protest, and abruptly remembered the circumstances that had brought her here—and the man who had welcomed her into his home.
Snuggling deeper into the covers, she took in the aspects of the bedroom. The beamed ceiling, paneled walls and glossy pine floor spoke of masculinity and an underlying solidity that made her feel…protected. A solitary dresser sat against the wall facing the bed. The headboard above her was brass and slightly tarnished. The sheets smelled of aftershave and man.
Hannah sighed as the memory of the kiss surfaced, sent a pleasant flutter to a place low in her belly. Not the baby, she realized, but something else that wasn’t quite so benign. The response troubled her. She didn’t have a clue how she was going to handle John or the way she was reacting to him. She wanted to be
lieve she’d merely been shaken up by the nightmare last night. That John had lent a comforting shoulder. That the kiss had been chaste and comforting. But Hannah was honest enough with herself to admit the problem wasn’t that simple. And that kiss had definitely not been chaste and comforting. How on earth could she be attracted to a man when she was carrying another man’s child? A man to whom she could very well be happily married?
Or was she?
The question sent a shiver through her despite the fact that she was warm beneath the covers. Dreams had plagued her through the night. Dreams that ran the gambit from terrifying to senseless. Nightmares of running through darkness and snow, of being pursued by an unseen malefactor, of tumbling into a black abyss to escape an even darker fate.
But the nightmares had been tempered with softer dreams that had left her breathless and disturbed for a very different reason. Dreams of a raven-haired, blue-eyed stranger swooping down from the sky and taking her into his arms. A stranger with a gentle voice and trust-me smile. A man whose embrace shot sparks of electricity through every inch of her body.
Now was not the time for her to be thinking of electricity with regard to a man she would undoubtedly never see again after this was all over. John Maitland was attractive, she admitted. But Hannah couldn’t let herself be taken in by his abundance of male charms.
Hearing movement on the other side of the room, she rolled over and found herself face-to-face with saggy brown eyes and a big black nose. “Honeybear,” she said.
The big dog had nudged the bedroom door open and now stood next to the bed with his chin resting on the spread, wagging his tail. “Don’t tell me you’re a morning dog.” He wagged his tail harder at the sound of her voice. Reaching out, she scratched behind a floppy ear. “You’re pretty cute for a big lug.”
Panting despite the chill in the cabin, the dog lumbered toward the door. “Okay, okay, I’m coming.” Stepping into her scrub pants, Hannah finger combed her hair, realized her efforts were futile, then walked over to the door and peeked into the hall. The smell of coffee and bacon should have been mouthwatering—if her stomach hadn’t been giving her not-so-subtle hints that food wasn’t on the agenda this morning. Hopefully John would have some crackers in his pantry.