For the second time in however many hours, he found himself thinking, She couldn’t possibly have just said that to me.

The groan that rattled up through his chest was an expletive if he’d ever heard one.

“Why do you think I’ve come in here every night?” He could hear the sheets shifting on the bed as if she were sitting up even further. “I’m hoping … praying … that you’ll…”

His breath was starting to get harsh, his body getting waaaaay far ahead of him—and the reaction was as strong as it was quick. Which suggested something he really hated to look at too closely: Yeah, he’d gotten her out to save her. But he also wanted her.

Now, to be fair, the latter had been a very recent development. It hadn’t started until he’d gotten a sense of how much she’d aged down below—he’d never been into chippies before, and he sure as hell wasn’t starting now.

She was a woman, though. After all she’d been through, she was a child no longer.

“Are you going to make me say it?” Her voice grew small. “Jim?”

“Don’t ask me this. For the love of God, don’t ask me this.”

“Why, Jim?”

He really wished she’d stop using his name. “I can’t … it’s not right.”

“Why?”

Releasing one of his hands, he scrubbed his face. “You know why.”

“Are you in love with someone else?”

Strange question. “No.”

“Do you … want me? Jim?”

More rustling, and Jesus, he could just imagine the sheets falling down to her hips, pooling around her waist. Except in his OMG fantasy, she wasn’t wearing anything more than he was, and her br**sts were—

“You’re going to kill me,” he moaned.

“That’s not what I want to do right now.”

“Sissy—”

“Who else can I go to? Who else is there? If not you … then who?”

Well, now, put like that? It made him want to castrate the balance of the male population in Caldwell. Make that New York State as a whole … or maybe the eastern seaboard.

Do not look over at her, he told himself. You look at her once and you’re—

The sound of her crying softly brought his head around. Oh, f**k him. She’d put her face in her hands and was trying to keep her dignity as much as she could.

“You don’t want me,” Jim heard himself say. “Not really. You just think you do.”

At that, she dropped the shield of her palms. “Don’t tell me what I feel or think. You don’t know me like that.”

“I know from stress.” Christ, did he ever. “I know a shitload about wartime stress, and you and I may be sitting in this house without bombs falling on our heads—but make no mistake. This situation we’re in is hard-core—and if you don’t have a serious case of PTSD after what you’ve just been through? I’m the f**king Easter bunny.”

“What does that have to do with—”

“People do not make good decisions when they’re under extreme pressure. When they’re in our shoes, people do not do the right thing.”

“But what if it is the right thing.” She met his gaze head-on. “Who are you to say it isn’t?”

“I’m the other half of it. And I know more about this than you do.”

“Because I’m a virgin.”

“Because you have never been to war. And I’ve lived in it for twenty years.”

“So then you know … sometimes people don’t come home.”

Well, hell. He kind of wished she wasn’t as smart as she was.

Moving fast, he yanked on some sweats and discreetly folded his erection up flat, tying the thing down with a savage yank. Then he pulled on a muscle shirt and went over to the bed. Sitting beside her, he reached out and tucked some of her straight hair behind her ear.

“I’m sorry.” He dropped his hand. “But I have to do the right thing by you. I can’t live with myself otherwise.”

Her gaze clung to his. “Then just kiss me. Just kiss me and I’ll go. It’s the only thing I’ll ever ask of you.”

He started to shake his head, but as her eyes glossed over with tears, she broke him in half.

“Don’t cry,” he said in a voice that cracked.

She had been cheated out of so much.

“Look at me.” When she didn’t, he took her chin and tilted her face to his. “You’re the one who’s beautiful…”

He trailed off at that point, because come on, it wasn’t like he could make her promises of first loves, and true loves, and a marriage with babies. She wasn’t going to get any of that.

“Close your eyes,” he said roughly.

If he had to meet her stare, he was going to lose his nerve—because something told him this was going to be as much of a revelation for her as it was for him. And in that, he wasn’t sporting the big head. It was impossible to believe that this was her first kiss, but he was willing to bet its implications were very, very different.

Holy shit, was he going to do this?

Just the kiss, though. That much he was rock solid on.

Jim leaned in, focusing on her perfectly formed lips. Oh, God, he wanted this badly—but even as the thought crossed his mind, he tore it up. This was for her, and his body was going to have to hang the f**k back.

Sissy did just as she was told, locking those lids down … but she was ready for what was coming. Her mouth parted as he leaned in and—

The knock on his door was as welcome as a clawhammer through the back of his skull.

And then a voice said, “Jim? You okay?”

Sissy’s voice.

Jim ripped away so fast, he jumped half across the room without hitting the floor—and as he flew, he watched the vision of Sissy on the bed morph into Devina, brunette waves replacing blond lengths, black shark eyes emerging from blue, huge br**sts pushing out the front of that shirt.

“Jesus Christ!” he barked.

“Well,” the demon muttered dryly, “you can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“Jim?” Sissy asked again through the closed door.

On that note, Devina up and left in a puff of black smoke.

Out in the hall, Sissy wondered what she was doing bothering the man.

She’d gotten up to keep reading through that giant book Adrian had given her, thinking she’d have some coffee first and then sit in the parlor while the sun came up. After all, staying in her bed and staring at the ceiling hadn’t been all that productive for the five hours she’d done it for—so she’d figured, what the heck, might as well try to get something done.

As she’d passed by Jim’s room, though, she’d heard him talking to himself, the heavy door muffling the words.

She’d been so worried about him, out there alone, doing God only knew what.

And maybe … she’d missed him.

She’d not been sure what to do with that one. Or entirely clear why she’d felt compelled to knock and say his name—

The door whipped open, and for a split second, she wondered why Jim had stuck his finger in a light socket—if his eyes were any wider, he’d have been staring out of the top of his head.

“Are you okay?” she said, taking a step back.

His stare flipped around her face.

“What … why are you looking at me like that?”

“I, ah … I…”

For a split second, he focused on her mouth, locking on her lips—then he shook his head and cursed.

“Was there someone in there with you?” she said, trying not to look past him. Trying not to feel … something … about that possibility.

It had never occurred to her that he might have some kind of a personal life.

“No.” His voice was hoarse. “I’m alone.”

“No offense, you don’t look right.” He looked … good, though.

Not that she should be thinking about anything like that … still, he’d had a shower and smelled like clean soap, and he was an incredibly handsome man … what with the dark blond hair and all that muscle and—

Oh, God, she was totally thinking like that.

“You’re up early,” he muttered, ducking back into his room and pacing around like he had energy to work off or something.

She peered in, even though it was none of her business.

The bed was messy, the sheets tangled up—but the pillows were arranged at the base of the headboard, a pair on each side—and both had the imprints of heads on them.

Had he been sleeping with someone in here?

Tucking her arms around her chest, she thought, Wow, just when she’d thought things couldn’t get any weirder. Because she really shouldn’t care one way or another.

But she did.

Over at the bureau, he braced his hands and leaned into his heavy arms, dropping his head.

“Jim?” When he didn’t reply, she said, “You’re scaring me.”

“Sorry, just been a long night.”

“What’s happening in this round?”

“Nothing much.”

How that equated to a long night, she wasn’t sure. Then again, he probably hated the waiting. And yet … waiting wouldn’t cause some to look like he did when he’d opened the door.

“So you can’t sleep?” he said as he stared at the floor.

“No.” She frowned. “Is there something I can do to help?”

“Thanks, but I’m great.”

“Really.”

He straightened and turned his back to her. Then he seemed to be rearranging something on himself. When he pivoted around again, he was more in control.

“You want breakfast?” he said abruptly.

“Ah, sure. Maybe I’ll cook, though?” Given the fact that there hadn’t been any food in the house until she’d come here, you had to assume that he and Adrian weren’t chef-types.

“Great idea. Come on, I gotta get away from this room.”

Why, she thought. And she almost asked—but the expression on his face as he walked by her shut that idea down pretty quick.

As they headed for the stairs together, tension flared between them and made her twitchy.

“Did I do something wrong?” she blurted. Maybe Adrian had told him about the book?

Jim stopped with his hand on the banister. After a long moment, he looked over his shoulder, and said quietly, “I owe you an apology.”

She recoiled. “For what?”

“It’s too long a story.”

“It’s five thirty a.m. How much more time do you need?”

“Look, I just want you to know that …” He cursed. “I don’t know what I’m saying here.”

With that, he kept going, hitting the stairs, leaving her with nothing but an unsettled feeling that she was, once again, in the dark.

Chapter Forty-eight

“I should go.”

Okay, those were the three saddest words in the English language as far as Cait was concerned. But Duke had a point. It was six o’clock, and she had to guess it was, in fact, time for him to go home.

They were both lying on their sides with their heads on her pillows, facing each other with the sheets tucked in around their warm bodies. It had been a long, long time since she’d shared a moment like this, a night like this. Such a reminder of why people put up with the stresses of relationships—this communion was about so much more than what they had physically shared.

“When am I coming back?” he demanded.

She had to smile. It was not in his nature to sugarcoat things, or beat around the bush—and it was curiously relaxing to always know where she stood with him. “When do you want to?”

“Tonight.”

Her response was to lean in and kiss him. “Sounds perfect—oh, wait.”

“What?”

“Ah … I have a funeral to go to today. Not sure what kind of mood I’ll be in.”

He frowned, and stroked her hair back. “Anyone close to you?”

“A student of mine. She died … unexpectedly.” Yeah, ’cause you didn’t exactly schedule getting abducted and murdered. “It’s going to be really emotional.”

“Shit. He or she must have been really young.”

“She. And she was nineteen. It’s a tragedy. You may have read about it in the paper—Sissy Barten?”

“I’m not really up on the news. But I am sorry.”

“So young to have lost her life. It’s just … I don’t want to get morbid or anything, but it’s a huge reminder of how easily people’s destinies can get off-track through no fault of their own. I mean, she was in a good college and keeping her nose clean. She worked hard and was crazy talented—everything was going so well for her. And then one night she goes on a random errand, and it all ends. I don’t know how to make sense of it, and I can’t imagine what her family’s going through. Life is just so short.”