Page 31 of The Survivor
“The Chicago PD is stationing a car outside the house, and when I meet with the task force at the end of the week, an officer will be here with you.”
Again she said, “All right.”
“Are you hungry?”
The sudden change of subject caught her by surprise. Her stomach, however, seemed to be waiting for the question, for it instantly growled in response.
She gave a faint smile. “Starved.”
“I’ll fix us something.”
He disappeared into the kitchen, leaving her sitting at the table to contemplate his strange behavior. Once it had been decided that he’d be acting as her own personal bodyguard, his entire demeanor had shifted, becoming stiff, professional. She didn’t like it. She’d grown used to the warmth radiating from him, the impression that he actually gave a damn about what happened to her. He still did, of course, but his impersonal manner made her feel as if she were being viewed as an assignment now, and not a woman.
She’d just have to change that, wouldn’t she?
Twenty minutes later Blake rejoined her in the dining room. He set two plates on the table, along with two glasses and a bottle of red wine, then bounded into the kitchen again. He returned with a large serving bowl of spaghetti, topped with plain tomato sauce that had probably come out of a can.
“I can’t cook anything else,” he said with an endearing shrug of one shoulder.
His gruff voice brought a smile to her lips. “It looks great.”
Looking as if he didn’t quite believe her, Blake piled the pasta onto her plate, then moved to his own chair and served himself. He pulled the cork from the wine bottle and poured each of them a glass, then dug into his food silently.
As she ate, Sam’s gaze strayed to the window. The drapes were open, but all she saw was a curtain of white against the windowpane. Fat snowflakes floated in front of the glass, making her smile. God, she loved winter. She’d always looked forward to the first snow of the season, greeting it every year by slipping her knee-length Burberry coat over her shoulders, tucking her hair under a wool hat, and walking through the snow in her favorite pair of high-heeled leather boots.
This year she’d watched that first snowfall from behind a locked window in the farmhouse in Wellstock.
“Let’s go for a walk,” she blurted.
Blake lifted his head. He focused for a moment on the snow falling outside before letting out a sigh that seemed unrelated to the weather. “I don’t think that’s possible. If any of my neighbors recognized you…”
Her face fell as he trailed off. He was right, of course. And since he’d already agreed to let her stay here with him, she didn’t want to push her luck by parading through the neighborhood and getting recognized again. The last thing she wanted was Blake changing his mind and sending her away.
He must have seen the disappointment in her eyes because he released another breath. “What if we went out into the backyard?” he suggested. “Won’t be much of a walk but it’s a pretty nice yard.”
Abandoning her half-eaten food, she said, “Sounds good.”
She didn’t have her Burberry coat or her favorite boots, but she made do with the black bomber jacket Blake grabbed for her. The coat hung down to her knees, and the sexy masculinescent imprinted in the material wrapped around her like a warm embrace.
The kitchen door opened out into the backyard and the second they stepped into the chilly night air, a smile filled her face. Blake flicked on a light and a yellow glow bathed the snow-covered patio.
“God, it’s so beautiful,” she breathed, tilting her head to stare up at the inky sky and the snowflakes dancing down from it. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”
“It is.”
Heat spilled over her cheeks when she realized he wasn’t admiring the display of winter around them, but that his dark gaze was focused on her face.
Her heart skipped, then broke out in a frenzied gallop and vibrated against her ribs. Swallowing, she brushed a few wet flakes off her eyelashes and ascended the short set of steps from the patio to the barren yard.
There wasn’t a single piece of furniture out there, not even a birdhouse for the sparrows she’d heard chirping outside the guest room window this morning. But the way the falling snowflakes hit the solitary light illuminating the empty yard created an almost magical ambience. She inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of the clean air and the pine trees lining the perimeter of the yard.
The snow began to gather and pile on the ground under their feet. “Think there’ll be a blizzard tonight?” she asked as she stuck her hands in the pockets of her coat.
“I hope not.” He paused, then added, “You know, blizzards were the bane of my childhood existence.”
“Why is that?”
“My mother always used a blizzard as an excuse to launch into family game night. When I was growing up, a storm was the only thing that would get the entire family in the same room, allfive of us trapped indoors. Mom would sit us down in front of the fireplace and pull out those God-awful board games.”
