Page 35 of The Survivor
She paused, biting her bottom lip in a sweet way that made his chest squeeze. “It’s not the scar,” she finally admitted. “The past six months I’ve told myself the scar is the reason I don’t want to pose for a camera again, but I don’t think that’s it, Blake. I got a second chance when I survived the attack and this time around I want…more.”
“And what exactly does that mean?”
“After the Rose Killer is behind bars, I think I’ll say goodbye to all the excitement of my old life. I find myself wanting things I never imagined I’d want before. A husband, children, family game nights like the ones you described to me. Hell, maybe I’ll even leave the city for good, buy that old farmhouse up in Wellstock.”
He arched a brow. “A few days ago you refused to go back—now you actually look excited at the prospect of returning.”
Sam shrugged. “It really is a pretty town, still close to the city, but quaint, peaceful. The house is old, but with a little fixingup it’ll be good as new. It would actually be a great place to raise kids.”
Blake’s breath caught in his throat as a vivid image flashed before his eyes. Sam, her belly swollen with a baby. Their baby. A little girl with gray eyes like her mother. Maybe a boy, too. And—laughter and the sound of little feet making tracks on that old faded floor of the farmhouse he and Sam would fix up.
Whoa.
As quick as lightning, he shoved the images out of his head, his heart pounding so hard his ribs ached.
“Blake, what’s wrong?”
He gulped and met her look of concern. “What? Nothing’s wrong.”
“You’re pale.” She reached up and touched his cheek. “Where were you just now?”
Another gulp. “I was just thinking…about the case.”
“It’ll be all right. You don’t need to worry.”
He didn’t need to worry? Like hell he didn’t. He’d just envisioned a future with this woman, right down to the number of kids they’d have.
He tried to gather his composure and regain control. Damn, getting distracted by thoughts like this was outrageously wrong. It was ludicrous. He should be focused on protecting her, which meant keeping his emotions in check, for Sam’s safety if nothing else. Fortunately he was spared from coming up with a response thanks to the ring of his cell phone.
He moved to the end of the counter and glanced at the caller ID. Rick again. “I’ve got to take this,” he said to Sam as he lifted the phone to his ear.
Holding her cup, she drifted to the doorway. “I should get dressed. I should call my brother, too. He’s probably going crazy wondering what I’m up to.”
Blake nodded absently and pressed the talk button on the cell, seeing Sam leave the kitchen from the corner of his eye. He greeted Rick, listened for a moment.
Then he went pale.
* * *
Sam knew calling her brother was a mistake the second the connection was made. Pressing the cordless phone to her ear, she sank on the edge of the bed in the guest room and rolled a pair of thick wool socks onto her bare feet, trying not to groan at her brother’s accusatory tone.
“You said it was only going to be one day,” Beau grumbled from the other end of the line, not bothering with pleasantries likeHelloorHow are you.
She could practically picture that telltale crease of worry on her brother’s forehead. “There was a change of plans.”
Sarcasm poured freely from his voice. “Yeah, everyone knows you’re alive. Tell those FBI agents they did a stand-up job.”
“It was my fault. I’m the one who wanted to visit Elaine again.”
“I never took you for a fool, Sammy. What if this maniac comes after you again?”
“It’ll be okay,” she said, amazed by the steadiness of her voice. “I promise.”
“Shouldn’t I be the one who says that?”
“Yeah, but I know you don’t believe it.”
“Do you?”
