Page 32 of Take Hold of Me

She raises one eyebrow. “After I told you all about my history with Wade, you still let him get to me. And I do not care that you were detaining someone from the set. Other people were hired to do that. Your job was to protect me.”

Her argument has a bit of merit. Dammit. And I want to spend more time with her. Admit it. “Fine. I’ll do it. Just for the errand.”

Appeased, she starts going on about Rose’s shower. I’ve never seen anyone so excited for a party before. Which is yet another conundrum about her—she’s a supermodel who attends parties for a living, yet she’s looking forward to this bridal shower like it’s the Oscars.

After a while, she reaches into her tote and pulls out her cell phone. While she logs onto the airline’s Wi-Fi, I pull out my book, dip my cap lower on my forehead and start reading. Every so often, my eyes drift from the page and settle in on her animated expression. What is she so engrossed in? Maybe she’s IM’ing with one of the male models who was hitting on her last night? Although I know for a fact that she returned to her hotel room alone.

Without moving my head, my eyes wander over to check out her phone. Instagram. Looks like she’s commenting on photos, but I can’t make out the content. Too curious for my own good, I place my book next to me and lean forward to fish earbuds out of my backpack. She’s commenting on people’s photos of their outfits. My body relaxes when I realize there’s not a man in sight.

I stifle the urge to reach out and smooth an errant lock of her hair. My tactile memory can almost feel its softness between my fingers. The angel next to me deserves so much more than I can offer. Being around her twenty-four-seven isn’t a good idea, but at least our time is almost at an end. I drop the earbuds next to me. Picking up my book, I read about aliens coming to attack our galaxy.

Something pushes me. Is it an alien invasion?

“Wills. Wake up.”

My body shakes. Coming alert, I jump forward and thrust my arm in front of Emilie, my heart in my throat. I swivel my head to take in my surroundings.

No imminent attack.

No danger to my Emsy. Emilie. My client. My heartrate decelerates. My arm falls to my lap.

When I do a visual sweep of the cabin, people are looking at her. Locking in on the faces directed at us, I realize they’re not looking at her. They’re looking atme.

Rubbing my hand down the bill of my hat, I turn to Emilie who’s accepting a glass from the stewardess. Groggily, I ask, “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I am fine.” She offers me the glass. “You were having a nightmare. Here, drink some water.”

My hand shakes as it closes around the glass. Emilie’s fingers cover mine. Her touch extinguishes all the pings zinging through my system, leaving a gentle hum as if she gave my body an ‘all clear.’ After staring into my eyes for a good ten seconds, she releases my hand.

“Take a sip.”

Nodding, I do as I’m told. The water soothes my throat. Closing my eyes, her words hit me. I had a nightmare. Here. On board an airplane while I’m supposed to be guarding Emilie. Keeping her safe. Yet here she is, making me feel comforted.

I swallow some more water, then place the glass down on the tray. At least my hands are no longer shaking. What do I say? How do I make her feel like I’m in control?

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Hell to the no. I shake my head, not trusting my voice to ignore her earnest plea.

“You were thrashing about, Wills. Moaning.” She offers a half-smile, no more than a slight lift of her lips. “And not in a good way, as Val would say.”

I return her ghost smile. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“It is not me who was scared. Seriously, do you get these often?”

No one knows about my nightmares because no one has slept with me since they came back full-force following my partners’ deaths. I rip the baseball cap off my head and toss it on the floor in front of me, taking the opportunity to run my fingers through my hair. After my sister was killed, it took me months to get rid of the nightmares. But I didn’t see her die in front of me like…No. No more.

“I’m okay.”

Emilie looks at me, her eyes filled with compassion. My body responds to the comfort she’s offering—it’s been years since I felt such an overwhelming sensation. If ever. Before I know what I’m doing, I press my upper body against hers like a drowning man clings to a life preserver.

She doesn’t struggle to get away. Or cringe at my weakness. Rather, she wraps her arms around me, stroking my hair in a rhythmic routine. Kissing my cheeks, she murmurs, “Shhh, it will get better.”

I remain in her embrace until the realization of where we are and who is offering solace smacks me upside the head. What am I doing? I push away from her, bouncing my head several times on the padded headrest. Exhaling a pent-up breath, I run my hand through my hair to wipe away the remnants of her gentle touch.

I repeat, “I’m okay.” I fiddle with the monitor to determine where we are in our journey. “Why don’t you sleep for a while. We have a good six more hours before we land.”

Her eyebrows knit, but quickly release. Her delicate fingers trace the “V” on her forehead, smoothing out her already flawless skin. I cross my arms and place my hands under my armpits to prevent me from reaching out to her again. I can’t believe I showed such weakness. What would my father have to say about that?

She reaches over and picks up my glass, taking a sip of my water. My body wants to possess hers, especially after such an intimate act. My fingers form fists under my armpits and I remain rooted in my seat. “It was just a silly nightmare. No biggie. Go to sleep.”

She opens her mouth, closes it and opens a blanket from its packaging. “Would you like a blanket, in case you fall asleep again?”

Not happening. I shake my head. “No, you use it. Pleasant dreams.”

She wraps herself in the blanket and digs an eye mask out of her carry-on, which she puts around her head but not over her eyes. Turning toward me before reclining the seat into a bed, she reaches out and strokes my chin. “I hope one day you will share. Like you, I am a pretty good listener.”

I close my eyes not in sleep, but to block out the vision of the beautiful woman in the next seat who offers to help me. I’m beyond help, even from an angel.

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