“To me?”
God, he despised declaring himself. If this wasn’t so important, he wouldn’t. “It’s nothing personal against you,” Reese clarified. “Far as I’m concerned, she’s off-limits to every guy other than me.”
After Rowdy finished laughing, Reese told him about the kidnapping. They were both grim as death when they parted ways.
* * *
ALICE STARED OUT the passenger window, watching the wind bend trees, the rain flood the streets. The windshield wipers beat a frantic rhythm, and the defroster worked overtime.
She’d been halfway to Reese’s car when the skies opened up and sent a deluge to soak her before she could even attempt to open an umbrella. Combing her hair now would be pointless. Already it started to curl.
Luckily she didn’t wear makeup, or it’d be everywhere.
She’d changed into simple, plain ballet flats and a dark print summer dress that should have been modest and comfortable. But now wet, it kept trying to cling to her br**sts, her belly, her thighs. Chills rose on her arms despite the warmth of the interior.
She loved it.
Often when out and about, she couldn’t relax. She stayed too busy watching for threats, observing everyone and everything. She wondered how those people could be so different from her.
And she wondered if evil blended in with the mundane.
Right beneath the noses of the unsuspecting public, people were grabbed. Taken away. Mistreated. Abused.
Forced to do things they didn’t want to do.
Never again would she be unaware of her surroundings. She stayed vigilant, for herself and for others.
Right now, though, on this stormy afternoon, few people could be seen. Even better, she was safe and sound in a car with the impressive Detective Reese Bareden.
Lightning seared the sky ahead of them, ramping up the downpour from a shower to a thunderstorm.
Feeling content, a little lazy and all too comfortable despite the weather and her drenched appearance, she sighed. “I love storms.” She’d always found them sexy. Peaceful. A sign of fresh renewal.
Strung too tight, Reese muttered, “Me, too.”
He slowed as a woman, holding a little boy’s hand, dashed across the street. She almost lost her umbrella beneath a gust of wind. The kid laughed as he deliberately stomped in deep puddles. The poor woman was not amused.
Alice watched them hurry into a restaurant. She realized she was smiling.
“You like children?”
She redirected her smile at Reese. He, too, had gotten soaked to the skin. His dark polo shirt stuck to his broad, solid shoulders and chest. He’d pushed back his wet hair, leaving it in sexy disarray. His lashes clumped together over his bright green eyes.
“I love them.” What would Reese’s children look like? They’d be tall and no doubt blond. Surely confident and happy, like their dad.
“You don’t have any?”
She shook off fanciful daydreams. “No, of course not.” What did he think? That she’d abandoned a child somewhere? That she would live apart from her child? “I’ve never been married, or even in a serious relationship. I mean, not that serious.” Not since the kidnapping had she even looked at a man with interest. “One day I’d like to have kids of my own, though.”
“Boys or girls?”
“It wouldn’t matter to me.” The skies darkened with the storm so that it felt like early evening. Headlights danced over the rain-washed road and reflected off the wet surfaces of signs, buildings and other cars. “I thought men didn’t like to talk about stuff like that.”
“Stuff like what?”
He’d turned that back around on her, so she sought the right words. “You know what I mean. Things so personal. So...intimate.”
“Intimate?” Reese kept his gaze on the road.
If he wanted to discuss it, fine. “Talking about children usually suggests a committed, caring relationship.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I like talking with you about anything.”
Could that possibly be true? She couldn’t miss the stiff set of his shoulders, how his hands gripped the wheel. Something wasn’t right, but unlike with most people, she often had difficulty reading his moods and thoughts. “You’re upset?”
“What? No.” He shifted, trying to relax.
Alice studied him. “Would you fib to me, Reese?”
The seconds ticked by. It almost felt like he held his breath—and then he admitted, “If necessary, yeah, I would.”
His honesty pleased her. She smiled at him to let him know.
Confused, he worked his jaw. “You want me to lie to you?”
“I don’t think you would, not about anything important.” She tipped her head. “You say you’re not upset?”
“I’m not.”
How wonderful would it be to totally trust another man? Did she dare? “Then what’s wrong?”
His laugh was short and rough. “Nothing.”
Something. Maybe she needed more information to figure him out. “Reese?”
“Hmm?”
“You’ve kissed me a few times now.”
“Yeah.” His voice went deep and dark. “And you liked it.”
Such confidence, and such knowledge of women. Could a man be any sexier? “I did,” she admitted. “I hope you’ll want to kiss me again.”
“Count on it.” He glanced her way. “But next time, it’ll be more.”
God, he despised declaring himself. If this wasn’t so important, he wouldn’t. “It’s nothing personal against you,” Reese clarified. “Far as I’m concerned, she’s off-limits to every guy other than me.”
After Rowdy finished laughing, Reese told him about the kidnapping. They were both grim as death when they parted ways.
* * *
ALICE STARED OUT the passenger window, watching the wind bend trees, the rain flood the streets. The windshield wipers beat a frantic rhythm, and the defroster worked overtime.
She’d been halfway to Reese’s car when the skies opened up and sent a deluge to soak her before she could even attempt to open an umbrella. Combing her hair now would be pointless. Already it started to curl.
Luckily she didn’t wear makeup, or it’d be everywhere.
She’d changed into simple, plain ballet flats and a dark print summer dress that should have been modest and comfortable. But now wet, it kept trying to cling to her br**sts, her belly, her thighs. Chills rose on her arms despite the warmth of the interior.
She loved it.
Often when out and about, she couldn’t relax. She stayed too busy watching for threats, observing everyone and everything. She wondered how those people could be so different from her.
And she wondered if evil blended in with the mundane.
Right beneath the noses of the unsuspecting public, people were grabbed. Taken away. Mistreated. Abused.
Forced to do things they didn’t want to do.
Never again would she be unaware of her surroundings. She stayed vigilant, for herself and for others.
Right now, though, on this stormy afternoon, few people could be seen. Even better, she was safe and sound in a car with the impressive Detective Reese Bareden.
Lightning seared the sky ahead of them, ramping up the downpour from a shower to a thunderstorm.
Feeling content, a little lazy and all too comfortable despite the weather and her drenched appearance, she sighed. “I love storms.” She’d always found them sexy. Peaceful. A sign of fresh renewal.
Strung too tight, Reese muttered, “Me, too.”
He slowed as a woman, holding a little boy’s hand, dashed across the street. She almost lost her umbrella beneath a gust of wind. The kid laughed as he deliberately stomped in deep puddles. The poor woman was not amused.
Alice watched them hurry into a restaurant. She realized she was smiling.
“You like children?”
She redirected her smile at Reese. He, too, had gotten soaked to the skin. His dark polo shirt stuck to his broad, solid shoulders and chest. He’d pushed back his wet hair, leaving it in sexy disarray. His lashes clumped together over his bright green eyes.
“I love them.” What would Reese’s children look like? They’d be tall and no doubt blond. Surely confident and happy, like their dad.
“You don’t have any?”
She shook off fanciful daydreams. “No, of course not.” What did he think? That she’d abandoned a child somewhere? That she would live apart from her child? “I’ve never been married, or even in a serious relationship. I mean, not that serious.” Not since the kidnapping had she even looked at a man with interest. “One day I’d like to have kids of my own, though.”
“Boys or girls?”
“It wouldn’t matter to me.” The skies darkened with the storm so that it felt like early evening. Headlights danced over the rain-washed road and reflected off the wet surfaces of signs, buildings and other cars. “I thought men didn’t like to talk about stuff like that.”
“Stuff like what?”
He’d turned that back around on her, so she sought the right words. “You know what I mean. Things so personal. So...intimate.”
“Intimate?” Reese kept his gaze on the road.
If he wanted to discuss it, fine. “Talking about children usually suggests a committed, caring relationship.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I like talking with you about anything.”
Could that possibly be true? She couldn’t miss the stiff set of his shoulders, how his hands gripped the wheel. Something wasn’t right, but unlike with most people, she often had difficulty reading his moods and thoughts. “You’re upset?”
“What? No.” He shifted, trying to relax.
Alice studied him. “Would you fib to me, Reese?”
The seconds ticked by. It almost felt like he held his breath—and then he admitted, “If necessary, yeah, I would.”
His honesty pleased her. She smiled at him to let him know.
Confused, he worked his jaw. “You want me to lie to you?”
“I don’t think you would, not about anything important.” She tipped her head. “You say you’re not upset?”
“I’m not.”
How wonderful would it be to totally trust another man? Did she dare? “Then what’s wrong?”
His laugh was short and rough. “Nothing.”
Something. Maybe she needed more information to figure him out. “Reese?”
“Hmm?”
“You’ve kissed me a few times now.”
“Yeah.” His voice went deep and dark. “And you liked it.”
Such confidence, and such knowledge of women. Could a man be any sexier? “I did,” she admitted. “I hope you’ll want to kiss me again.”
“Count on it.” He glanced her way. “But next time, it’ll be more.”
