Page 120 of The Morning After (Savannah 2)

He wouldn’t let the same fate happen to Nikki, no matter how hard she protested. So he stood in her small living room feeling uncomfortable and out of place as she placed the dog on the floor. Her cat had hopped onto the counter and, back arched, eyed the interloper as Nikki shed her coat and dropped her purse and computer onto the floor near her desk where she eyed the answering machine.

“No messages.” Her voice caught and she suddenly felt so weary she could barely stand. “Simone didn’t call back.” She slammed a fist onto the top of the desk. “Damn it all, Reed. He’s got her,” she whispered, her tiny fist curled so tightly the cords in the back of her hand were visible. “The bastard has her right now.”

“Don’t think about it.”

The look she cast him cut him to the quick. “How can I think of anything else?”

“I don’t know, but try.”

“I have. But it’s impossible.” She stretched her fingers and sighed loudly. “What do you think he did to her? How did he lure her? Even if he pretended to be me, didn’t she know? Where did he get her? In the parking lot? As she came out of the restaurant?”

“Don’t do this,” he warned.

“I can’t stop.” She jabbed her fingers through the wild riot of curls that had fallen over her eyes. “I see her. In that coffin. Waking up. Trying to get out.”

That did it. He crossed the space between them and wrapped his arms around her. “Shh,” he whispered against her ear. “Don’t torture yourself. It’s not helping.”

“But I feel so guilty.”

“Fight it. You need to pull yourself together. It’s the only way to help her. Why don’t you…take a bath…go to bed…try to find some way to relax,” he suggested, feeling the tension in her muscles. “You need to sleep. You’ll think more clearly in the morning…. We both will.”

“You’re staying?”

“Unless you throw me out into the street.”

She snorted. It was almost a laugh. As if she found the image ludicrous.

“And then I’ll camp out in the car.”

“It’s cold out there.”

He lifted a shoulder. “Not that cold. I lived in San Francisco. Remember?”

“Yeah.” She pulled her head back so that she could look him in the eye even though his arms were still holding them close. Too close. His hips touched hers through their clothing, her legs were nestled inside of his. “I don’t think it’ll be necessary for you to bunk in the Caddy.”

“Thanks.”

Studying him as if she were seeing him with new eyes, she added, “And I’ll try to take your advice…to…try to think positively, about saving Simone. I’ll try not to freak out or be a damned basket case.”

“All I can ask.”

She arched a skeptical eyebrow. “Oh, I think you could ask for a lot more.” She was so close he noticed the slight dusting of freckles bridging her nose, watched the play of emotions on her small face as she struggled to pull herself together.

“And that would be a mistake.”

“Undeniably.” But she didn’t pull away. Her lower lip trembled a bit and he felt the unlikely urge to kiss her. Hard. To force her thoughts away from the pain of this night.

To where? Don’t do it, Reed, don’t open a door you can’t close. “Let’s just…”

“Yes, let’s.

“…keep things in perspective,” he said, though his pulse was quickening with the nearness of her, his blood running hotter, the urge to kiss her, to hold her, to touch her, strong.

“And focus on what we need to be doing,” she added, though he thought he detected a note of reluctance in her voice.

“Yes, focus.” He stared into her eyes and saw the hint of desire in her gaze. Or was it desperation? It would be easy to make love to her, so easy. And he knew that tonight, because of everything she’d been through, because of her need to be comforted, she’d give in to him. Easily. Even eagerly. But in the morning with the light of dawn everything would change. “Focus,” he repeated, damning himself for his lust. Women had always been his downfall. Probably always would be. But he didn’t want to make another mistake. Not with this woman. “Focusing is good.” He kissed her crown and released her.

“I don’t know if it’s good or not.” If she was disappointed, she hid it and forced one side of her mouth into a half smile. “Okay.” With a shrug, she turned and walked the few steps to her kitchen. “So…would you like something to drink? I’ve got beer, I think…” She opened the refrigerator and, leaning over the door, frowned at what he assumed to be meager contents. “Make that I’ve got one lite beer and a bottle of semi-cheap wine.”

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