She’d finished her letter of resignation a few days ago, but was waiting for Ian’s return before handing it over to Andrew. Tessa knew that her supervisor would try to talk her out of it, would even do his best to make her feel guilty about resigning, and that she would have to strengthen her resolve and not give in to him. However, if Ian was correct in his assumptions, then perhaps Andrew would surmise the real reason behind her resignation and leave well enough alone. She was keeping her fingers crossed that it would be the latter, for she wasn’t at all sure she could hold her own against her very formidable supervisor.

She burrowed her face into the pillow, thankful that she wouldn’t be sleeping on this uncomfortable mattress too much longer. During Ian’s two week absence, she’d made good progress on cleaning up the apartment, getting rid of things that were bordering on junk, and setting aside some others that she intended to donate to charity. One advantage of living in a tiny apartment meant that you didn’t have a whole lot of stuff, so that moving wouldn’t be much of an effort. When she officially moved into Ian’s house at the end of the month, she would only be bringing along her clothes, toiletries, laptop, and a few personal items like books, CD’s, and photos.

Tessa smiled sleepily as she imagined Ian looking disdainfully through her belongings, probably insisting that she toss out some of her older articles of clothing – especially the despised raincoat. He had already made some comment about the age and condition of her laptop, and she knew without being told that he was making plans to replace it with a brand new, top of the line model - just as he’d done with her cell phone. And she also knew that no matter how much she might protest about not needing more clothing or jewelry or things, that it would all fall on deaf ears so far as Ian was concerned. He wasn’t a man used to being told no, and once he made up his mind about something - well, that was simply the way it was going to be.

She fell asleep very quickly after that, though her slumber was short-lived. It was a combination of sounds and smells that woke her abruptly – the piercing beep of all three of the apartment’s smoke detectors; the frantic pounding at her front door; and, most terrifying of all, the unmistakable, acrid scent of smoke.

Tessa flung back the bedcovers and raced frantically for the front door, far too panic stricken to even think about grabbing her purse or phone or a pair of shoes. Smoke was already beginning to fill the apartment, and she had barely opened the door when a burly firefighter grabbed her none too gently by the arm and hustled her down the stairs to the street below. Once there another firefighter shooed her across the street where other tenants were beginning to gather, all of them watching in horrified shock as the flames seemed to move at an accelerated speed to engulf more and more of the apartment building.

She was in total shock, still half-asleep, and she wondered wildly if this was some awful nightmare she had yet to wake from. But it was too real, too vivid, to be a dream, she realized in dismay. Her apartment, along with all of her belongings, was going up in flames before her very eyes, and she was powerless – utterly powerless – to do anything about it. Even the fact that she was barefoot and clothed only in a rather skimpy pair of sleep shorts and an equally insubstantial tank top didn’t phase her. And despite the heat being given off by the wicked flames, Tessa felt frozen, in both body and mind.

She lost all sense of time, of awareness, too immersed in shock to notice the sobs and shrieks of the other tenants, or to pay much attention to what the emergency personnel were saying. After a time, someone arrived to lead all of the displaced tenants down the street a couple of blocks to a Chinese restaurant that she’d eaten at a few times. From what she was able to surmise through the fog that had enveloped her brain, the owners had agreed to let the Red Cross use their place as a command center of sorts, handing out food and water and blankets as they tried to calm everyone down and begin making temporary housing arrangements for them.

Tessa refused soup or hot tea or a bottle of water, but did accept a folded-up space blanket to wrap around her inadequately clothed body. The chaos all around only served to pull her even deeper into a near-catatonic state of shock, and she padded on bare feet to the farthest corner of the restaurant to try and get away from all theconfusion. She huddled into a chair, wrapping the blanket around herself, and tried desperately to stop her uncontrollable shaking. She felt like crying, or screaming, like some of the others were doing, but was too numb to summon up the effort it would take.

And as she continued to sit there - miserable, terrified, and frozen - she wished with all her might that Ian was beside her at this very moment. He would make it all go away, she consoled herself, would make everything better. But he was still in London, half a world away, and until he returned she had only herself to depend on.

‘Just like old times,’ she thought tiredly.

***

By his calculations, he’d been awake for more than twenty-four hours, given the time zone difference and the number of hours he’d been either waiting in airports or actually in flight. Ian was exhausted, especially since he’d had precious little sleep on the very long flight home from London. Since he had changed his flight at practically the last minute, there hadn’t been any seats available in either first or business class, and he’d been forced to fly coach. For a man of his height and bulk, falling asleep in the restricted space had been all but impossible, especially when coupled with the crying child in the seat behind him, and the very chatty couple in front of him. He’d considered the wisdom of taking this last minute flight a dozen times over during the rather hellish journey, but each time he questioned his decision he didn’t regret it. How could he, when it meant he would see his beloved Tessa that much sooner than planned?

Wanting to surprise her with his early arrival, he hadn’t told her about his change in plans. He’d made up some excuse for why he wouldn’t be able to call her as usual this evening, and she sweetly hadn’t questioned him further. But now that his flight - the departure having been delayed by more than two bloody hours due to heavy fog at Heathrow - had finally landed, he was making a beeline to her apartment, so that he could sweep her up and take her home with him. He knew she wouldn’t mind being woken at this late hour, even though she would have to get up early for work in the morning. And he’d already written off the possibility of actually having sex with her, since his own exhaustion would probably impair his ability to perform, even given their long separation and how damned much he’d missed her.