Page 37 of Saved from Obsession

The real surprise is what my heart does when I see her. It stops, does a few clumsy flips, and expands so quickly it feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest.

I’ve never felt this way before. Never knew it waspossibleto feel this way. Like my entire life has been leading up to this moment, when I realize I’m falling in love with her.

It’s not how Georgia’s dressed, though there’s no question she’s breathtaking. Her dress is a dusky rose color that makes her creamy skin look luminous—it’s flowy and drapes over her curves without being obvious. Her legs seem to go on forever and I can’t help but imagine them wrapped around me.

It’s not because of her full, rosy lips, or long lashes framing vivid blue eyes, or the way her hair glows liquid gold as it falls around her shoulders. It’s not because Georgia is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

The realization comes from all the other little details. Her eyes as they meet mine, filled with trust and desire and hopeful anticipation. The flush across her cheeks as she looks at me, her breath quickening as her gaze drags down my body. My heart squeezes when I see her blossoming smile, her whole face lighting up as she sees me.

And there’s that undeniable charge between us, one that makes my body come alive for her. But it’s more than wanting Georgia physically, though I absolutely do. I wantallof her. Her kindness, her bravery, her determination and strength, the sense of humor she never let go of, even when she had every reason to do so, and her heart.

It’s indescribable, the way I feel about her.

I almost blurt out the words right here, but a more practical part of me stifles them before they can come out.

The logical voice that has saved me many times over on missions reminds me of all the reasons to wait. It’s only the start of our trip—what if spending a week together without the forced proximity makes things feel different between us? What if I say it, and Georgia doesn’t feel the same way? And we haven’t known each other that long, just about a month—maybe it’s too soon to say the words that will change everything.

So instead, I step forward to meet Georgia and say, “You look beautiful.”

Her eyes flicker down and back up my body again, and a little smile pulls at her lips. “You look—“ The pink of her cheeks gets deeper. “Reallyhandsome.”

We stare at each other for a few seconds, everything important said just through our heated gazes.I want you, hers seems to say, and I’m in total agreement. If I took her into the bedroom right now, I don’t think Georgia would protest.

But that’s not how I want things to play out tonight. I want to give her the date sheshouldhave gotten before. Breaking the silence, I reach out my arm and tuck hers into mine. “Are you ready for dinner?”

She tilts her head up to look at me, then stretches up to kiss me on the cheek. “Lead the way.”

I made reservations at the Italian restaurant at the hotel—I would have liked to eat outside, but the warmth of the day is quickly fading as the sun starts to set. Fortunately, I was able to request a table by the window, so we’ll still be able to look out over the lake as we eat. It has an intimate, romantic feel, just as I’d envisioned when I planned out this part of the date.

As we enter the restaurant, Georgia is still smiling, her hand tucked safely in mine, walking so close to me our shoulders are touching. I keep catching whiffs of her shampoo and whatever lotion she used—coconut and vanilla and orange. Everything seems great until we’re being led to our table and Georgia slows her pace, almost dragging her feet, her fingers tightening around mine.

The host pauses, turning back to look at us with an expression of barely veiled confusion. Georgia’s eyes flash to mine, anxiety turning them a deep blue. All the color has drained from her face except for the thin line of pink running down her cheek. She swallows hard, her gaze darting from mine to scan the room nervously.

“Georgia?” I pitch my voice low so only she can hear me, then shoot a quick glance at the host, raising my eyebrows in a silent command to wait. “What’s wrong?”

At first, I think it might be a sign of her PTSD, fear of being in an enclosed space with so many strangers. But she went on the boat without any issue, none of the fear or nervousness I’m seeing from her now.

Then she fiddles with her hair, twisting it in front of her face, and the truth behind her sudden change of mood hits me. Scanning the room as Georgia just did, I can see more than a few men looking at her, some casting surreptitious glances, others outright staring. My mind splits in two—half wanting to yell at the men to stop making her feel uncomfortable, the other half wanting to snatch her into my arms and protect her.

Unfortunately, neither of those are good options.

I know why they’re all looking at her and it has nothing to do with her scar. Tall, slender, shining hair spilling down her back, eyes so arresting there’s no way not to be pulled into them—Georgia is stunning, even if she doesn’t think she is.

Letting go of her hand, I wrap my arm around her shoulders, leaning over so my mouth is near her ear. “Sweetheart,” I murmur, keeping my tone even and soothing, “let’s go sit down. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“I know,” she whispers back to me, “I just…” Her voice goes tight and wavers, “They’relookingat me.”

Guiding her along, I follow the host to our table, settling Georgia into her seat. Then I crouch down next to her and cup her cheek. “They’re looking at you because you’re gorgeous, sweetheart. And I’m sorry it’s making you uncomfortable. If you want to leave, we can.”

I don’t want to leave; I think she needs to be out in public and realize it’s not scary, but I’m not going to push if she’s not ready.

Her eyes search out mine, scared but determined. After a few seconds, she says quietly, “Okay.” Then her hand comes up to cover mine, small and satin soft against my larger one. Her voice gets stronger, more confident. “Okay, Leo.”

I slip into my seat across from her with a little sigh of relief. Georgia has gotten so much better about her self-consciousness around me that I didn’t think about how it might affect her coming here. But I’m so proud of her, facing her fears as she always does, even though I wish I could shield her from everything.

From there, dinner goes without a hitch. The shadows in Georgia’s eyes fade away somewhere between giving our order and the first sips of our wine. By the time we’re halfway through our entrees—salmon for Georgia and a filet for me—we’re having a great time chatting and making plans for the rest of the week.

“This might sound silly,” Georgia confesses, “but I saw one as we drove past it today. Maybe one day we could go to the arcade for a little while?”

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