understanding crossed his eyes. “The train,” he said quietly, as if something about this registered with him. He put his hand on her elbow reassuringly. “It’s okay. We’ll be moving any moment now.”
The train lurched forward, but it was too late; she felt light-headed and oddly disconnected from her body, as if this had become a dream, and Ford was saying something to her but all she heard was a rush of white noise as her vision narrowed and darkness closed in.
“I think I’m going to faint,” she murmured.
The last thing she felt before blacking out was his arms closing around her.
* * *
SHE HEARD THE sound of a man’s voice, commanding and authoritative.
Coming out.
It took her a moment to recognize the voice as Ford’s, to remember where she was, and to realize that she was moving.
He was carrying her off the train.
She felt the firmness of his chest against her cheek, the strength of his arms cradling her. When a rush of cooler air hit her, she breathed it in, slow and deep.
Ford shifted her in his arms, and she heard murmurs. Other voices.
“We’re off the train, Victoria.” His tone was reassuring. “I’m going to call 9-1-1 and get you some help.”
Please, no. She was already making enough of a scene. She gripped his shirt with one hand. “No. Just . . . don’t move.”
Forcing her eyes open, she saw that she and Ford were on the train platform, and that a small crowd of people had gathered around them.
All staring at her.
“I’m fine,” she said to the crowd. She went for a weak joke, to minimize the weirdness of the situation. “Guess I probably shouldn’t have skipped lunch today.”
“I think it would help if she could get a little space,” Ford told the spectators, not unkindly. Then he lowered his voice. “Victoria. Look at me.”
Really, she wasn’t sure she could face him right then. But, figuring she had to bite the bullet sometime, she finally tilted her head back and met his gaze.
His eyes were a warm blue, his expression a mixture of relief and reassurance. “You’re okay now. I’ve got you.”
She felt a sharp tug in her chest and opened her mouth to thank him for getting her off the train—but then she noticed something. “You’re soaked.”
The back of his hair and neck were all wet, the water having spread along his collar and shoulders, and even beginning to creep down the front of his shirt and the leather strap of his messenger bag. She saw then that they were only partially covered by the overhang above them, and realized that he was using his body to protect her as he held her in his arms.
Shielding her from the rain.
He peered down with a soft smile, his voice husky. “Well, you said not to move.”
She swallowed hard, the butterflies that had been lingering in her stomach suddenly having multiplied into a full-fledged swarm.
Oh, God. No.
She looked away from Ford, focusing instead on the rain dripping down from the overhang as she fought back the tightening in her chest.
Breathe, Slade.
“Victoria—are you okay?” Ford asked. “Say something.”
She took a moment to collect herself, and then faced him. “I just . . . want to go home.”
Twenty-seven
WHEN THEY GOT to Victoria’s front door, Ford noticed that her hand was trembling as she put the key in the lock.
“I can get that.” He gently took the key from her, then unlocked the door and led her inside the loft. He set down both his messenger bag and her briefcase, which a helpful passenger had carried off the train after she’d fainted.
“I should change into some dry clothes,” she said. They’d both had umbrellas for the walk home from the L station, but it was pouring outside and the legs of her pants were soaked.
He combed his fingers though his wet hair. “Me, too. I’ll just prop your front door open with the deadbolt so I can let myself back in.”
She paused at that, but then nodded. “Okay.”
Grabbing his messenger bag, he headed back to his own place. After letting himself in, he ran a hand over his mouth, needing a second to clear his head.
That moment, when Victoria had gone limp on the train and had fallen unconscious into his arms, was something he wouldn’t forget for a long time. If ever. The fear he’d felt thinking something might be seriously wrong, and then the utter relief when she’d opened her eyes, peering up at him with an expression that was