Colorado Abduction - By Cassie Miles & Marie Ferrarella Page 0,45

want.”

The phone went dead.

AN HOUR LATER, sitting in the passenger seat of the van, Carolyn had pushed aside her sadness about Jesse and her frustrated anger at Logan. Her mind filled with happier images as she thought about Sunny’s beautiful baby girl. After their wild ride to get her to the hospital, the actual delivery—assisted by Silverman—had been uncomplicated and fast. And the result?

Carolyn grinned. Sunny had given birth to a perfect little being with wise, curious eyes and rosebud lips.

She sighed. “Babies are so miraculous.”

“Yeah,” Burke said. “Bundles of joy.”

“Come on, tough guy. I saw your face when you were holding the baby. You liked it.”

“Don’t confuse me with Silverman.” He frowned at the road ahead. “I don’t know what the hell’s gotten into him. He’s single, never married. What does he know about babies?”

“More than you,” she teased.

The atmosphere between them was different tonight—more intimate. In the dark, when she couldn’t see clearly, her other senses were heightened, as if she could hear him breathing and feel the warmth emanating from his body. His voice seemed more resonant; the tones vibrated inside her.

They’d experienced so much in one day. The emotional high of rescuing Sunny. And the low point this morning when she broke down in tears. In some ways, Burke knew her more thoroughly than men she’d dated for years. But she still didn’t have much of an inkling of his background. Now—when they were finally alone—was her time to find out about him.

“Did you have siblings?” she asked.

“I was an only child, raised in Chicago by a single mom.”

She was surprised that he’d offered so much biographical information—a whole sentence. Usually, he answered her questions with a question of his own. She pressed for more. “You grew up in the city?”

“Mostly.”

Pulling answers from him was like sucking on a bent straw. “Does that mean you also lived somewhere else?”

“I spent a lot of summers in rural Wisconsin with my grandparents. That’s where I learned how to ride.”

He yawned. She knew that his defenses were down. “After high school, what did you do?”

“Is there a point to your questions?”

“I’m trying to get to know you,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because I like you, Burke.”

As the words left her lips, her heart took a little jump. She wasn’t usually so direct; Carolyn knew how to play the dating game. But there wasn’t time for them to do the traditional get-to-know-you dance. For them, there would be no candlelit dinners or long walks in the park. They didn’t even have time for a first date.

If anything was going to happen between them, it had to be as fast and furious as a tornado. Is that what I want? To be swept up in a wild vortex? She reminded herself that tornadoes were generally looked upon as disasters.

“You like me,” he said.

Lights from the dashboard showed a grin that was a bit too arrogant for her taste. She backtracked, not wanting to give him an edge. “Maybe I do.”

“Maybe?” He turned his head and gave her a cocky look—a challenge that made her want to raise the stakes.

“When I first met you,” she said, “I thought you were an insensitive, domineering jerk.”

“And now?”

“You’re sensitive enough.” And sexier than she wanted to admit. “The problem is that I don’t know you well enough to form much of an opinion.”

“Fine,” he said. “Ask your questions.”

“You said you were once in love. Tell me about that.”

“I was a first-year law student,” he said. “She was my professor. Beautiful and tough, she was the smartest person I’ve ever known. I couldn’t stay away from her.” He sighed. “I wanted to be with her, even after she told me about her illness.”

His voice had deepened, lending weight to his words.

“What did she have?” Carolyn asked.

“An inoperable brain aneurysm. For most of her life, she faced the knowledge that she could die at any moment. We lived together for six months. Then she was gone.”

The tragedy was still with him. She could feel his sorrow. “I’m sorry, Burke.”

“I dropped out of law school and joined the Chicago P.D. Stayed there for five years. My mom was killed in a car accident, and I moved to the FBI.” He shrugged. “That’s it. My life story.”

A story of love and loss. No wonder he was so guarded. “How did you become a hostage negotiator?”

“The FBI decided that’s where I fit. You’ll have to ask profilers, like Smith and Silverman, for the psychological details.”

She didn’t need more explanation. He’d trusted her. He’d