Page 26 of Gentle Persuasion

“Where is she now?” Buddy asked. “I could see if she wants something to eat. Maybe some yogurt or—”

“That’s great, Buddy,” Cole smiled. “She’s in her room. Why don’t you knock on her door and then ask? I don’t think she’s doing anything but lying down right now.”

Buddy grinned, happy that he’d thought of something useful, and made a dash for the hallway.

“Did you ever think you’d see the day when a woman would get Buddy out of his precious room?” Morgan was grinning.

“No. And it’s a good thing that he doesn’t see her as a woman. He sees her more as an extension of Lily. I’d hate to have to fight my own brother for her.”

Morgan’s mouth dropped. He turned and stared, but Cole disappeared into the kitchen, ignoring the bombshell he’d handed his father.

***

She was sleeping peacefully on her side, rolled up in a tiny ball with the sheets wrapped around and under her like a swaddled baby.

Cole couldn’t decide whether to curse or cry. He did neither. Instead, he simply walked over to the side of her bed, lightly felt across her forehead for signs of fever, and sighed with relief as his palm slid over cool, smooth skin.

The urge to unwrap and straighten her covers was strong, but he knew it would be futile. Two hours ago he’d tried and was now staring at the results. If she’d been bagged and labeled by experts, she wouldn’t have been packaged any better. He turned and walked away.

Debbie felt his touch, the sigh on her cheek as he leaned over and brushed her forehead with his lips, and then heard his footsteps as he left her alone…again.

She didn’t move or indicate by any means that she’d been aware of his presence. Not now, or the other times he’d come into her room when he should have been getting his own rest.

She blinked back tears. When he thought she wasn’t looking, he was so damned gentle it made her heart hurt. Why couldn’t he admit that what was between them was more than just casual caring? Why wouldn’t he face the fact that they were in love?

The first time she’d seen him standing beneath a shade tree at the Longren Ranch, a plate full of barbecue in one hand and a beer in the other, laughing at something someone had said, she’d been lost.

He was so different from the men with whom she’d grown up. Besides his being from California—and where she came from, that counted as another planet—besides his being a cop, which took her exactly five minutes to discover, besides his being Lily’s oldest and best-loved brother—besides all that, he had secrets.

She’d recognized them instantly. They hung just behind the darkest pair of eyes she’d ever seen. And she could tell that the secrets weren’t all good. There was a world of sadness behind his laugh. It reeked of too many lonely hours and too many ugly sights. Yes, in the space of five minutes, Deborah Jean Randall had seen all that and fallen in love.

Now here she was, half a country away, after being whomped by a creep who made a habit of preying on helpless women and nearly being eaten alive by a moving, metal staircase, she was next door to the man of her dreams, and he wouldn’t let her sleep.

Debbie rolled over, winced as she mashed a sore spot, and stretched, trying to find a comfortable place to settle. Soon, she’d drifted back to sleep to the tune of the floorboard creaking in the room across the hall.

***

It was halfway to morning. Midnight had come and gone like a bandit, stealing away whatever rest Cole had been trying to find. He cursed the moonlight shining through his window. Cursed fate for what had happened to Debbie. Cursed the creep who was still out there unapprehended. Cursed everything and everyone except what mattered.

He was not where he belonged. His heart had been telling him that for hours. Finally, in sleepless desperation, he rolled off his bed. Moonbeams danced across his bare body, shadowing the hard curves and flat planes of his well-toned torso. He pulled on a pair of red jogging shorts and started across the hall. Just for one more look. Just to make sure she was still alive…and breathing.

Debbie heard the floorboard creek. She groaned as it woke her and tried to burrow back down into the covers. He was up again. If she could just locate that comfortable spot…but it was gone. And Cole was here.

He leaned over, peering through the shadows, trying to see her face—listening to her breathing—just to assure himself that it was gentle and regular.

“For the love of God, Cole Brownfield,” Debbie muttered. “You won’t let either of us rest. If you can’t calm down and let me sleep and trust the fact that my next breath won’t be my last, then you have my permission to crawl in beside me and listen to me breathe.”

She’d startled him. And then he smiled to himself. He should have known it would take more than this to get her down. He looked at the shadowy contours of her sleepy face, saw the invitation, and knew that it hadn’t been far from his thoughts since he’d brought her home.

“Do you pull covers?” he asked as he began to unwrap her.

“You’ll soon see,” she muttered, and allowed him to straighten the bed.

It took every ounce of willpower he owned, but he crawled in and settled down. For one long moment, neither spoke.

Debbie had issued the invitation out of frustration. He had accepted it out of need. But when his long arm gently snaked beneath her head and pulled her toward him, she sighed. There! She’d found that comfortable spot again, after all. She should have known where it was. It was next to his heart.

Cole gently wrapped her, covers and all, and held her. Long after he’d felt her relax, long after he heard her breathing slow and soften, he watched and he listened. And he fell in love.

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