Still trembling, he clenched his fists in her hair, clinging to her like a security blanket. "Don't leave me," he whispered brokenly.
Her heart turned over. "I'm here." She rubbed his damp, taut-muscled back. "Who hurt you so badly, Gabe?"
He quivered in her embrace, clearly fighting for control. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, his shaking eased and he lifted his head. The agony in his eyes stabbed into her soul. "I'm—I'm okay."
He closed his eyes for a heartbeat. When his thick lashes floated up again, only a raw shadow of pain remained, the rest shoved back into the secret part of him he hid so well. "I'm sorry. It's survival training. Reflex. Don't ever touch me without waking me first." He choked out a ragged laugh that held more torment than humor. "That's what happens when you sneak in here in the middle of the night. Next time you want into my bed, just ask."
She was in Gabe's bed. Tessa's hammering pulse kicked up another notch. Her robe had opened in the struggle and her bare legs were intimately entwined with his slightly rough, muscled thighs. His scent bombarded her, warm and fresh and blatantly male. Her stomach clenched. Flames licked through her, burning out of control.
Gabe had sworn he wouldn't kiss her again unless she asked. She stared into his eyes. If she asked now, how would he react? Would he tense, like Dale? Would he laugh?
Or would he cover her mouth with his. Devour her. Slide his lips down her neck, then move lower to quench the fire raging inside her.
As though he read her thoughts, Gabe's pupils dilated. His hungry gaze scorched her face, the feeling as hot and compelling as if his fingertips had stroked her skin. His heart thundered against her own. But he didn't move. He waited, exactly as he'd promised, his taut weight immobile on top of her.
All she had to do was ask.
She drew a shuddering breath. "Gabe?"
"Yeah, honey?" His raw, husky growl shivered up her spine.
She gulped. "Do you think you could get off me now?"
He whispered a curse and scrambled off her like she had the plague.
Gathering her robe closed, she fled to her room.
She slammed her bedroom door and fell against the panel, sickened to her soul, her chest hollow and aching. She didn't know if she despised herself more for nearly betraying Dale…
Or because she hadn't had the guts to stay with Gabe.
* * *
Chapter 9
« ^ »
The dark, rich smell of coffee enticed Tessa awake. The clock on the nightstand read 10:00 a.m. She hadn't slept this late since her bout with the flu last winter. She combed her fingers through her curls before she shrugged on her robe, belting the sapphire silk tightly on her way to the kitchen.
Dressed in a body-hugging gray T-shirt and faded jeans, Gabe sat at the small dining-room table with the Sunday paper spread in front of him. Faint blue smudges marred the skin beneath his eyes. He took a sip of coffee. "Mornin'." He didn't meet her gaze, focusing somewhere near her chin.
"Good morning." She crossed to the coffeemaker and poured a generous helping of the steaming, fragrant brew before taking a chair opposite him. "About last night—"
He stiffened. A muscle twitched in his cheek, his distress radiating across the table. Obviously, he didn't want to talk about his nightmare. This morning, the light that normally shone from him had dimmed, revealing the shadows under the surface. Shadows he tried so hard to hide. She relented. None of her business, anyway. "Never mind. I have a list of errands to complete before the rehearsal this afternoon."
He dropped his head forward and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Okay."
"If you don't want to come with me—"
"No." He straightened. "You're not going alone. I'm ready when you are."
After a quick shower, she clipped back her hair, donned brown tweed slacks and a rust-colored knit twin-set, then chose a beige suit and matching pumps to change into at the church.
Wearing a gray wool sport jacket over his T-shirt and jeans, Gabe entered the front door as she stepped into the living room. He still wouldn't meet her gaze. "Car is clean."
A horrible suspicion made her stomach lurch. "You mean—do you suspect a bomb?" she whispered.
"A precaution." He thrust his fingers through his hair, making the short, raven strands stand on end. "Nobody knows our location, but I don't take your safety for granted. I won't let anybody