Tess lifted her head and stretched. The map sitting in her lap slid off and curled down around her feet. She left it there, no longer even having the energy to lean down and pick it up.
It was dark outside and the clock on the dash blinked 10:00 p.m. A light drizzle started, hitting the windshield and sliding down the gritty glass in gray streaks. Ryan reached down and turned on the wipers. The blade on the driver’s side limped across the glass, barely cleaning it.
“Guess that’s a signal we need to find somewhere to hole up for a while,” he said. “We need a few hours’ sleep anyway and it’ll give us a chance to figure out what we’re going to do next.”
“I had the same thought,” Tess said. She was worried about the fatigue that weighed on Ryan’s shoulders. He hadn’t complained once, but she knew he must be exhausted. She might not be able to sleep, but she was pretty sure he would collapse as soon as his head hit a pillow.
The small town they were driving through had the usual recognizable motel chains, but Ryan bypassed them all, heading into the seedier section of town. Tess didn’t argue. She knew without asking that he was looking for a place that was a little less high profile. A bit less touristy.
Finally he hit the turn signal and turned into the parking lot of a run-down motel. As he pulled into a parking slot in front of the office, he glanced at her. “Out of the way enough for you?”
“Perfect,” Tess said, climbing out and surveying the pothole-riddled parking lot. She nodded at the tiny sub shop across the street. “We even have gourmet dining within walking distance of our front door.”
Ryan laughed and walked over to the door to the motel office. He held it open for her. Tess stepped inside and took in the rather startling ugliness of the place. Dust-coated blinds shaded two grimy windows facing the parking lot, and a threadbare rug, with more than a few suspicious-looking stains, covered the worn floorboards.
A lamp sat perched on a high counter, its bulb casting a dim yellowish light through the room. Tess figured that the weak lighting was a blessing. From the looks of things, she was fairly positive that she didn’t want to see any more of the place than was absolutely necessary.
A buzzing neon sign blinked on and off in the window, announcing to the cars passing outside that there were vacancies. No big surprise there. From the looks of things, the Center City Motel wasn’t exactly the kind of place that attracted weary travelers. Which in Tess’s mind was a good thing. It made the place ideal for a few hours of much-needed rest.
In a small sitting area off to the side, a middle-aged woman, in a short leather skirt and tank top stretched over two abnormally large and perky breasts, sat filing her nails. She glanced up at the two of them, her gaze bored. She snapped her gum and nodded a silent hello.
“We’d like a room,” Ryan said.
She grinned, red-glossed lips widening over tobacco-stained teeth, and pointed at the desk with her nail file. “Just hit the bell there and Tony will be along to get you one.”
She went back to filing her nails.
Ryan hit the bell twice.
“Hold your damn horses,” a man yelled, his voice filtering through the door directly behind the desk. “I’ll be out in a freakin’ minute.”
Tess propped an elbow up on the counter and rested her chin on the heel of her hand. Every muscle in her body cried out in protest. The drugs still in her system were affecting her ability to think and see straight. If she didn’t close her eyes and shut off her brain for at least a few hours, she knew she’d be flat on her face in a matter of minutes.
A quick glance in Ryan’s direction told her that he wasn’t in much better shape. His hair was rumpled and hung down over his forehead, trailing in his blue eyes. His usually clean-shaven face was heavily shadowed, giving him a dark, edgy look. Tess hid a smile. The two of them probably looked as though they belonged in the place.
The sound of water rushing through pipes sounded and the door behind the desk swung open. A rail-thin man stepped out, tucking the shirttails of a dingy cotton shirt into his polyester pants. He yanked them up so high they came halfway up his chest.
“Gets so a person can’t even take care of business without someone ringing the damn bell.” He shuffled over to the desk in a pair of matted-lamb’s-wool slippers that had seen better days. He eyed the two of them from behind thick lenses. “How long do you want the room for?”
“One night,” Ryan said.
“The whole night?” the clerk asked.
Ryan nodded.
The clerk glanced over at the woman seated in the corner. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a couple of marathoners, Stacy.”
The woman laughed and pointed her nail file in Tess’s direction. “Well, if he tires you out, honey, you be sure to give me a yell.” Her gaze traveled up and down Ryan’s muscular frame with frank appreciation. “You got yourself a prime specimen of man there and I’d be more than happy to finish things up for you.”
“Gee, I’ll definitely keep that offer in mind,” Tess said dryly.
Once the registration card was filled out, Ryan reached into his pocket and pulled out the cash to pay. Tess’s suggestion that they hock his ring and Rolex at a pawn shop earlier in the day had been a smart one. It gave them enough money to function without having to use his credit cards.
As he slid the bills across the desk, he peeled off an extra fifty and handed it to the clerk. “We’re not expecting any visitors, but if anyone should show up, we’d appreciate a phone call.”
The man fingered the corner of the extra bills as his beady-eyed gaze jumped back and forth between the two of them, studying them with an air of suspicion. “I ain’t lookin’ for no trouble here, mister.” His gaze shifted over to the woman in the corner and then came back. “I don’t like the cops nosing around, here, if you get my drift.”
“Not a problem,” Ryan said quietly. “It won’t be the cops looking for us if anyone shows up. Believe me, they aren’t interested in talking to the cops any more than you are. All you have to do is give us a call if anyone shows up looking for us and we’ll be gone.”
The clerk stuffed the bills in his pocket and nodded. He shoved a key across the desk. “Take room fifteen on the end. Park your car around back. There’s a small driveway that will take you out to a side street. If anyone comes nosing around, I’ll ring your room three times and hang up.” He ripped up their registration card and dropped it in the trash can. “Just make sure you lock up when you leave.”
Ryan picked up the key. “Appreciate the help.” He nodded to Stacy and pressed his hand against the small of Tess’s back. They exited quickly.
“That was smooth,” Tess said, as Ryan pulled the door shut.
“I thought so, too.”
“You’ve got real potential for this business.” Tess climbed into the car.
“Really? And what kind of business would that be?” Ryan asked as he slipped into the driver’s side and started up the car.
Tess bent down and grabbed the map crumpled on the floor. She sat up and carefully folded it. “Spook business, of course.”
“Spook stuff, huh? Are we talking ghost spook or the spy kind of spook?”
Tess laughed and shot him a glance that told him she appreciated his humor. “Spy naturally. You’ve got all the necessary qualities, Dr. Donovan. Something tells me that you missed your true calling. You don’t lose your cool and you think ahead. But most important, you show a solid understanding of the need to grease the wheels of cooperation. All critically important skills of a well-seasoned spook.”
“I think all those skills come from years of dealing with patients who show an uncanny ability to manipulate the system. No spook lessons needed.”
She shrugged. “You still show potential.”
Ryan drove past the row of cars lining the front of the motel and took a left at the end of the building. He braked at the end of the alley and shoved the gears into Park. The car engine rattled a little when he turned off the ignition but finally shuddered to a stop.
As he unbuckled his seat belt, he turned to her. “Any idea where you learned what a spook needs to do in order to function successfully?”
Tess paused and her eyes met his across the length of the front seat. “I—I’m not sure. You don’t think—” Annoyance flashed across her face and she glanced away. “Jeez! Will you stop with the questions already. You’re like some kind of relentless head doctor.”
He pocketed the keys.
Tess laughed bitterly. “Oh that’s right, I forgot. You are a shrink.”
He waited her out, allowing the heavy silence to build until she lifted her head and met his gaze. Both regret and sadness were visible in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I know you’re just trying to help.”
He shrugged. “Every little statement—every off-the-cuff remark—is a clue.”
“Not everything. Sometimes a comment is just a comment. People read spy novels and watch the latest block-buster movie about espionage. What red-blooded American wouldn’t know what a spy needs in order to be successful?”
She yanked open the door, grabbed her knapsack and climbed out. Ryan pocketed the keys but stayed in the car, contemplating what Tess had said. Why was she angry? His training told him he was getting closer, and the closer he got to the truth, the more frightened she became. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to regain her memory. Consciously she did. But unconsciously her brain was fighting her, trying to keep her safe from the knowledge.
He knew that what she’d just revealed was something much deeper and more meaningful than the simple fact that she might have read the latest Tom Clancy novel. There was a confidence, a feeling of self-assurance, when she talked about government spooks.
Was it possible she really was some type of government spy? He knew some of Sidney Bloom’s funding came from government grants. Could the government—the CIA or the Secret Service—be involved in some kind of hush-hush research project involving brainwashing techniques?
He reached over the back seat and grabbed his duffel bag. Human experimentation with an unknown, experimental drug wasn’t something that would be sanctioned by the FDA. Experimentation was always possible, just not with human subjects. But people had been known to test that restriction before. Was it possible that Bloom was doing just that?
He sat behind the wheel and studied Tess. She didn’t go straight to their room but, instead, walked down the alleyway to the back of the motel. He knew without asking what she was doing. She was scoping out what would be their getaway route should they need it.
If Tess was involved in some sort of government research project, why wouldn’t she know that? And why all the secrecy surrounding the project? Was it possible that the project wasn’t sanctioned by the government, that it was some kind of renegade group, conducting the research without the government’s knowledge?
“Are you coming?”
Ryan glanced up to see Tess standing by the room door. He nodded and climbed out. The possibility of the research being something other than government sanctioned intrigued him. It might explain the excessive secrecy surrounding the project, the almost deadly take-no-prisoners attitude of General Flynn.
Ryan locked the car and followed Tess inside.
THE ROOM WAS IN WORSE SHAPE than the lobby. Tess pulled the drapes as Ryan bolted the door. The smell of cigarettes and another unidentified musky smell rose up off the cloth, threatening to suffocate her. Tess coughed and turned away to survey the rest of the room.
“I can see why the guy wanted to know how long we wanted the room for. My guess is that he rents them by the hour,” Ryan said as he walked over to sit on the edge of the bed. He bounced up and down a few times and then winked at her. “This thing has seen a lot of action.”
“Don’t remind me,” Tess said, kicking off her shoes and bending down to take off her socks. One look at the condition of the matted carpet and she rethought that decision. Better to sleep with her socks on.
“I’ll go across the street and get us something to eat,” Ryan said, getting up. “You haven’t eaten in over twelve hours—with the exception of those four candy bars and two packages of M&Ms we got at the gas station. I’m betting you’re ready to swoon.”
“I wouldn’t swoon,” she grumbled. “Southern ladies swoon. I’m a Yankee.”
“Really? Where in the north are you from?”
“Well, not that far north, but from the D.C. area.” She carried her shoes over to the bed and then stopped dead. She met his eyes from across the room. “Holy cow! I just remembered where I lived.”
Ryan nodded.
Tess sat on the side of the bed, her mind racing. “I live in a house, not far from…” She hit the top of her thigh with her fist. “Damn, it slipped away again.”
“Take it easy,” Ryan said. “It’s coming back at a faster rate now. That’s a good sign. But don’t force it. Let the memories flow back on their own.” He opened the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Ham-and-cheese sub okay with you?”
Tess nodded absently. “Yeah, sure, that’s fine. I’m going to take a shower.”
When she stepped out of the bathroom, clean and refreshed, she found Ryan already eating, his body hunched over a small café-style table in the corner of the room. She was wearing the stiff new jeans and tight T-shirt Ryan had bought earlier from the feed and farm store they had stopped at for gas.
A ham-and-cheese sub was halfway to his mouth when he spotted her. He paused, and one corner of his mouth quirked upward in a familiar devilish grin. “Guess I got the shirt a few sizes too small, huh?”
Tess pulled at the hem. “Gee, ya think?”
He laughed and tore off a bite, chewing contemplatively. He swallowed and added, “Personally, I think it fits just fine.”
From across the room, she watched as his eyes darkened with something wild and dangerous, and she forgot all about trying to pull at the hem of the shirt. A delicious warmth flashed up the sides of her neck and infused her cheeks. But just as quickly as the look was there, it was gone again. As if he forced it down, made it disappear. His mouth tightened and the sexy playfulness in his expression changed.
He reached around and grabbed his suit jacket hanging over the back of the chair. He threw it to her. “Sorry, I should have paid more attention when I bought the shirt. You can use my coat to cover up.”
Slightly confused, Tess shrugged her shoulders into his jacket. She bent her head and rolled up the sleeves to keep them from flopping over her hands. His scent, now so familiar that it felt a part of her, clung to his jacket and surrounded her with his presence. She inhaled deeply.
But even as she wrapped the front around her and crossed her arms to keep it closed, Tess knew she didn’t want to cover up. Didn’t want to hide herself from him.
She’d liked it when his gaze rolled over her length with a smoky seductiveness. It created a delicious flutter deep inside her belly, and Tess knew she longed to indulge in that sensation. But Ryan had turned off the warmth and seductiveness as if he was shutting off a switch. All of sudden, he seemed closed off and locked down.
Disappointed, she grabbed the other sub and slipped into the chair across from him.
He twisted off the top of one of the colas and held it out to her. “Do you want a glass?”
Tess shook her head. “No, thanks. From the looks of this room, I’d rather take my chances with the bottle.”
She took the cola, purposely allowing her fingers to trail across the back of his hand, her palm caressing his knuckles and the light dusting of dark hair.
His gaze met hers for the briefest of moments and she saw the sparks of need flare in the depths of his eyes. She wet her lips, waiting. But his dark lashes lowered, shielding his eyes from her and he let go of the bottle. Before she could speak, he leaned down and picked up the remote sitting on the bed.
He clicked on the TV. “Let’s watch the news. I’m curious to see if there’s anything about our escape from the center. It’s not every day that a truck crashes through the gates of a research center.”
Swallowing against the lump of disappointment that rose in her throat, Tess nodded. “I doubt Flynn would let anything leak, but it’s worth a look.”
They were already several bites into their subs by the time the late news started. The newscaster launched into a quick clip of local interest, a story about a possible break in the downtown water main and then shifted to the national news.
Tess had her bottle of soda halfway to her mouth when the woman’s voice filtered into her awareness. “In an interview today, Vice President Starling revealed that he would be making a major announcement at a reception being held in his honor Thursday night.”
A sense of heightened excitement seemed to infuse the anchorwoman’s voice. “Insiders speculate that the vice president will announce that he will not be President Rone’s running mate for the upcoming election. This move is unprecedented in American politics. Although history shows that vice presidential running mates have been dumped before, most running mates who have been taken off the ticket were dumped due to their liability. This is definitely not the case for Vice President Starling.”
The scene behind the news anchor changed to show a youthful and enthusiastic Starling waving to a crowd at a fund-raising party. The faces of the people in the crowd held a certain rapture—not much different than the rapture seen in teenagers at their favorite pop star’s concert.
An ugly buzzing sound droned in Tess’s ear, and the vice president’s image on the screen wavered and then blurred. She blinked, trying to clear her vision. Oh God, what now? She felt as though she were slipping into a waking nightmare.
Helpless, Tess clung to the newswoman’s soothing tones.
“Enjoying unprecedented popularity—a popularity never before experienced by a sitting vice president—Starling can only be labeled a valuable asset when it comes to President Rone’s reelection. Rone, who is viewed by many Americans as morose, brooding and horribly out of touch with the people, has little chance of being reelected without Starling on the ticket. If Starling deserts the ticket, many insiders predict that President Rone will be in for the fight of his life and that reelection will no longer be within his reach.”
The screen behind the anchorwoman changed again, showing a crowd of longshoremen gathered around a tieless Starling. The men surrounding him were clapping him on the back and vying to shake his hand. A breeze off the water behind them ruffled Starling’s wheat-colored hair, giving him a youthful and movie-starish quality.
“The vice president’s chief advisor, Eli Morgan, refused to comment on the validity of any of these rumors. He has asked that people wait until the vice president is ready to make an official announcement before speculating as to what this is all about. In spite of the rumblings rocketing through the power brokers in Washington, Vice President Starling has stayed above the hoopla by concentrating on his goodwill trip to South America. He is expected to return to the United States later today.”
“Are you okay, Tess?” Ryan asked.
Startled, Tess looked up, the bottle of cola falling from her nerveless fingers and hitting the table with a thud.
From what seemed like a great distance away, she watched as Ryan jumped up, dodging the stream of liquid that spread out rapidly across the table. He grabbed a handful of napkins and quickly blotted up the spill, his eyes watching her with concern. But he didn’t speak or try to intervene. She knew that by now he’d recognized her pattern and was waiting her out to see if a new flashback would be brought to her consciousness.
But even as this thought flashed through her brain, an excruciating jolt of pain shot through her head and Tess cried out, and her body jerked, sending her shoulders slamming back against the chair.
She clamped both hands to her head and rubbed, desperately trying to soothe away the pain shooting up from between her eyes.
“Easy, Tess? Just let it come. Don’t fight it. Talk to me, tell me what you’re feeling.”
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out, and then suddenly he was beside her. His warmth and concern seemed to surround and enclose her even as her body shook with waves of pain. His voice, smooth and caressing, seemed to wrap her in a cocoon of safety. God, she loved that voice. It was her anchor. Her salvation. And in the darkness surrounding her, Tess struggled to reach out for it, to hold on to it before she slipped away into whatever ugliness hugged the surface below.
He knelt next to her, his hands on hers as he tried to draw them away from her face.
Tess lifted her head, dazed. Confused. Her vision was blurred and Ryan’s face disappeared into a brilliant kaleidoscope of color. She blinked trying to see through the shifting colors.
But instead of the motel room, the frightening image of the man lying in a spreading pool of red was back. The people around him cried and screamed. And as she watched, the pool widened and grew at an alarming rate. Slowly the crowd seemed to step back and she could see the man’s face. She jumped, a small whimper slipping from her lips. The man was Vice President Starling.
Her legs trembled, and her fingers tightened on the arm of the chair, but she didn’t fight the image. She allowed herself to totally immerse herself in it. As she watched the reel play out in her head, the pool of blood widened and soaked the trademark wheat-colored hair. Starling’s eyes were open, staring vacantly up at her.
Tess shuddered and gasped for breath. Bile rose in her throat and threatened to drown her. She sucked hot air, her entire body shaking with shock and rage.
“Tess, open your eyes. Talk to me. Tell me what you see so I can help you.” Ryan’s voice cut through the image and she struggled to concentrate on it, to hold on to the calm, deep tones like a drowning victim clung to a life ring. If she ever needed Ryan Donovan it was now.
“I—I can’t breathe,” she gasped. Another shock of excruciating pain washed over her and she whimpered. “Hea-head hurts.”
Ryan’s hand stroked the center of her back, directly between her shoulder blades, and the soft timber of his voice reached down through the pain and calmed her. “Don’t panic, Tess. Slow, deep breaths. You’re okay. You’re going to be fine.”
But his words were no sooner out of his mouth than the pain shifted, hitting the pit of her stomach and doubling her over. I’m not going to make it, she thought. I’m going to lose it right here.
Jumping up, she ran for the bathroom, slamming the door after her.
She barely had time to register the fact that the place was surprisingly clean considering the condition of the rest of the motel room before she hit her knees and lost what little food was in her stomach.
As she retched, she heard Ryan’s voice through the door, “Open the door, Tess.”
“Go away,” she said weakly, barely able to lift her head. “I’m okay. Just a little nauseous.”
She leaned her forehead against the cold tiles lining the wall. They felt like a cool cloth on her hot forehead.
Ryan rattled the doorknob. “Open the door.”
She closed her eyes and commenced to shake, the chills taking over her body with a vengeance. “I’m okay. Just give me a minute alone.”
She didn’t want him to see her this way—retching and sweaty, her hair in her face and her body racked with tremors. She hated this feeling of being out of control. Weak and shivering. It diminished her and made her seem less than she was. And if there was one thing Tess hated more than anything, it was being seen as weak.
She retched again, and Ryan jiggled the doorknob harder. “Open the door, Tess. Now.” His tone held none of its familiar calm, signaling a loss of patience. Tess figured that he was about ready to come through the door, lock or no lock.
Reaching up, Tess undid the bolt and Ryan stepped inside. He crouched down beside her, one hand coming out to cup her chin and turning her head toward him.
His warmth seeped into the clammy coolness of her skin and a flush of warmth shot through her. Tess blinked and stared up into the infinite compassion in his eyes. How did he have so much to give?
For the first time since they’d started their run, Tess noticed the dark smudges under his exquisite eyes. Fatigue seemed to infuse the muscle of his solid frame, and short strands of black hair lay in disarray across his forehead. She reached up and gently pushed them back, her fingers tangling in the threads for a moment before he shifted slightly.
Her heart wondered if he’d ever allow himself to take rather than receive. He’d been up for over twenty-four hours, taking care of her, watching over her every minute. Not once had he thought of his own needs. Even now, his only thought was of taking care of her.
“Tell me what you saw and be specific,” he ordered.
She dipped her lashes, breaking eye contact. “I just ate too fast.”
“Don’t lie, Tess. You had another flashback. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”
Tess knew he needed his rest. He didn’t need to spend the rest of the night giving her therapy and working out her stupid flashbacks, her disjointed dribble that meant nothing other than the fact that she was going quietly insane.
She pushed his hand away and stood up. Moving to the sink, she avoided his eyes in the mirror. Something told Tess that if she looked into those eyes too much longer, she’d become a whimpering, quivering pile of mush. And she refused to do that.
What if she did tell him what she’d seen? He’d lock her up, that’s what he’d do. People didn’t see the vice president of the United States dead with a bullet to his head without being seen as crazy. Hell, if someone confessed such a thing to her, Tess knew she’d be the first to vote that the men in white coats come and cart the person off.
She turned on the faucet, bent down and splashed cold water on her face and into her mouth. She rinsed out her mouth and tried to ignore the fact that he was standing right over her, watching her every move.
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. The concerned look hadn’t changed one iota. “I swear to you. I’m fine. Just ate too fast.”
She brushed past him, pushing aside the fact that her knees were the same consistency as undercooked chocolate pudding, and made her way over to her knapsack. She rummaged through it until she found her toothbrush. She needed to do something. To be busy. Otherwise she was going to melt into his arms like a big, whiny baby.
As she moved past him again, he caught her arm. “Will you slow down? You’re the color of rice paper and getting whiter by the minute.”
She shook his hand off and made her way back to the sink. “Funny about that—I didn’t get much chance to tan inside that prison they kept me in.”
As she squeezed the toothpaste out onto her brush, she glanced in the mirror. Sure enough, he hadn’t moved, one shoulder jammed up against the doorjamb, his corded arms folded expectantly across the broad expanse of his chest. He didn’t budge. Apparently he got off on watching women brush their teeth.
She shrugged and shoved the toothbrush into her mouth. So let him watch. No skin off her back.
“You’re probably experiencing some side effects of the medication they gave you.”
Tess didn’t bother answering. She simply scrubbed harder, trying to ignore the fine tremor in her hand.
“Why don’t you let me check you out. I could give you something to take the edge off. Something that would put a stop to the nausea and shakes.”
Tess dropped her hand to the edge of the sink, leaving the toothbrush wedged up against her cheek. She was barely aware of the fact that her mouth was filled with foaming toothpaste.
She stared at his refection in the mirror. “Are you insane? Do I really look like someone who wants more junk pumped into her bloodstream?”
He didn’t answer, his eyes softening; a hint of deep sympathy lurking in their depths. The sympathy angered her. She didn’t want him feeling sorry for her or feeling as though he had to take care of her. She had to take care of herself. Stand on her own two feet.
He wasn’t always going to be there. She couldn’t rely on him. He had a life, a job. She couldn’t confuse his caring attitude for something it wasn’t. Hadn’t she done that once already? He’d backed away from her, refusing to step over the line he’d drawn between them. No matter how much she wanted him, she had to respect the boundaries he’d drawn.
His confidence and powerful presence made her feel vulnerable. Naked almost. She squeezed her eyes shut. God help her, but all she wanted was to sink back into those big, capable arms and let him hold her. To comfort her and soothe her.
“If you really want to help me, just leave me alone,” she said. “I need to work through this on my own. It’s safer that way.” Safer for you, she thought.
His expression didn’t alter, the serene blue of his eyes stared steadily back at her. Damn him, didn’t he ever get mad? Was he always so infuriatingly patient? So willing to take on the troubles of the world?
She gritted her teeth. Why didn’t he just leave her ungrateful butt in this seedy hotel room and go back to his comfortable life in Half Moon?
Instead, he came back at her with the same reassuring approach she’d come to expect. “Look, Tess, I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to push me away, but it isn’t going to work. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for the duration.”
He paused and waited, as if expecting her to answer. But she didn’t. She gripped the inside edge of her bottom lip and held on tight, as if somehow she could freeze him out with her silence.
He sighed. “When are you going to learn that you can trust me?”
Tess leaned forward and spit out the paste. Cupping one hand under the faucet, she fed herself a quick mouthful of water and rinsed out her mouth. She reached over and swiped a threadbare towel across her mouth.
“Never.” She straightened up and pushed past him to reenter the room. Ignoring him, she yanked the bedspread back and climbed beneath the blankets. She turned on her side and pulled the covers up to her neck, gathering the sheet until she was wrapped up tight. “Shut off the lights when you come to bed,” she snapped, closing her eyes and heart to any more talk.
“I’m not giving up on you, Tess. Try to shut me out all you want, but I’m not leaving.”
She opened her eyes a crack to see him sitting in the chair directly across from her. She closed them again. “Suit yourself. But you’re going to get sore sitting there all night.”
“I’ve done it before.”
And she figured he had. She just didn’t want to think about how much he’d done for her. How hard he’d worked to win her trust and confidence. Because if she thought about it too hard, she’d lose the battle. The battle that meant she’d let down her guard and ask him into her heart. She knew she couldn’t risk that, couldn’t allow him to be put in that kind of danger.
She pulled the blanket over her face, trying desperately to shut him out.