nothing was.
Swallowing her foolish yearnings, Maddie filled the dishwasher cup with liquid detergent, closed the appliance’s door, and started the wash cycle. By then, Harley and Jameson were nowhere in sight, and Eric had just shut his bedroom door. He’d turned the security system on. The lights were muted, and the house was quiet, full of exhausted, sleeping men. And her. Wide awake. Darn it.
She walked to her room, the first on the left, opposite the safe room. Jameson’s room was at the far end, between Harley’s and Eric’s. Where she definitely wasn’t brave enough to go. Those darned guys had secured Jameson there intentionally. Not like it mattered. He was probably sound asleep by now. Probably so tired, he couldn’t think straight. Might not have given her a second thought when his head hit the pillow. Alex only stocked these safe houses with the best, and that pillow beneath Jameson’s head would be just the right kind of soft. Once he laid down…
OhGodOhGodOhGod. The last thing she should be thinking of was him on his back on that bed and her straddling his hips and…
No. Just no. He’s a man, and you already know how men are. How many heartbreaks do you need before you get it? Men don’t want real women. They want obedient daughters and slaves, someone to clean up behind them and do what they’re told. Someone to sit adoringly at their side while they snore their brains out, fart, burp, expect dinner made and read,y and… Where was I going with this?
She paused, her fingertips on the knob that would open her door and put another layer of solid wood between Jameson and her. Wooden doors were good fire protection. She knew that. Every home should be built as safe as this one. But she couldn’t take her eyes off the one at the end of the hall.
Most of her life, she’d been alone, first under the thumb of her self-absorbed father, then with her gambling addict husband. For those few months after she’d kicked Nash Coogan out, the loneliness had been a welcome relief from the merry-go-round of lies, lies, and more lies she’d been living with. That was when this TEAM Protocol Officer job came up. As scared as she’d been the day she’d marched into the interview with Senior Agent Mark Houston, she’d impressed him. He’d said so. He’d also been blunt about how difficult working with former military might be for a civilian who’d never served active duty.
But truth was, everyone on The TEAM, even the man she answered directly to and worked most closely with, Alex Stewart, had gone out of their way to welcome her. Because of his vote of confidence in her, she’d learned the ropes quickly. The TEAM became her one safe place where no one lied to her. Where no one talked behind her back or twisted the truth to suit their agendas, either. She was respected. She’d made friends. Camilla and Beckam even had her over for dinner one night. Alex and his wife included her on the invitation to join them at the hospital for their baby boy’s birth. How unique and great was that? Being part of The TEAM was fun.
Yet here she was, alone again. Wondering. Working with Jameson tonight had built a fire inside she didn’t want to lose. Its roaring flame had died down, but she’d banked those precious embers, hoping for closer contact. The taste of his mouth was still alive on her tongue. No matter what she ate or drank, the heat of his lips still burned, and the sting of his five o’clock shadow had left the nicest abrasions on her chin and around her mouth.
She could still feel his tense, ropey muscles around her when she closed her eyes. He’d left a mark where no one else could see it, where she still felt it. In her soul. Yet it needed fuel to survive, and that precious fuel lay down the hall, so close and yet so darned far away.
He’d called her brave today. And strong. Yet there she stood, trembling with cowardice born of years of being denigrated and scorned. Of never being good enough, smart enough, or, her all-time favorite put-down, pretty enough. But what if…?
Good grief. Her fingers lifted to her lips. What if she took those few steps to Jameson’s door? What if she opened it and…. Was she brave or was she still her dad’s lackey? Did her confidence depend on