Maisy eased onto Blaze’s couch, exhausted by the emotionally depleting day. From their visit to the safe house, where the memories and destruction had pushed her to request a bathroom break halfway home. So she could stand in a public restroom and cry. To her direct attack at the police station, where the psychopath who’d killed Clara had threatened her baby. It was all just too much, and she was certain she could sleep until her due date if the universe would let her.
Though, given her string of awful luck, she’d be happy with a thirty-minute power nap.
Thankfully, the police, marshals service and public at large had a face to go with the attacks now, and the man would be on the run. Unlikely to come for her again. Though that didn’t mean another of Luciano’s henchmen weren’t on their way.
Blaze clattered around in the kitchen, cleaning up after a wonderful meal of steaks and baked potatoes. He’d insisted she rest instead of help, and she hadn’t had the energy to protest.
She turned the television to the local news and let her eyelids slip shut, attempting to center herself in the moment and trust that she was safe again for now. The pair of Tylenol Isaac had recommended during her exam had taken the edge off her sore muscles, mostly aching from the tension she’d carried there for too long. Isaac had further prescribed plenty of rest, water and time off her feet. She’d always liked him.
“All right,” Blaze said, sweeping into the room and heading for the couch. “What are you watching?”
“News,” she said, as if anything else was an option for them. “Maybe the police captured the lunatic assigned to kill me and no one has bothered to call and tell you.”
Blaze tented his brows. “That would be a serious inside scoop.” He lifted her feet off the little cushion she’d propped them on, then tossed the pillow aside, easily taking its place. “Is this okay?” he asked, resting her ankles across his lap.
“I can sit up,” she offered, squirming to attempt the task.
“No way.” He gripped her calves gently, urging her to be still. “You were comfortable, and I interrupted.”
“But it’s rude of me to take up your whole couch,” she countered.
“Let’s compromise. You can have the couch back, and I’ll put the little pillow under your feet again. Or we can share the couch, and I’ll hold your feet. Lady’s choice.”
Maisy bit her lip, enamored by his grin. She enjoyed the exchange more than she should and especially liked the feel of his hands on her. “Fine. If you insist,” she said. “You made me dinner. The least I can do is let you touch my feet.”
His eyes went dark with faux mischief. “I can touch them?”
Maisy snorted. “You are touching them. They’re on your lap.”
Blaze stretched his fingers in the air above her fuzzy socks, then lowered his hands to her ankles, peeling the polka-dotted fleece away. She shivered as he pressed the pads of his thumbs against her tender arches, working in small, muscle-melting circles.
She groaned unintentionally, and his big hands closed over her feet in response.
“I’m doing okay?” he asked, a note of pride and more than a little smugness in his tone.
“Mmm-hmm.” Maisy braced herself against a flash of other times Blaze had been smugly responsive to her little moans.
He watched her as he massaged, his gaze gliding over her body, lingering on her parted lips before looking into her eyes. “Feeling more relaxed?”
“Very.” Her cheeks went hot again, this time with clear and perfect memories of his hands all over her in the very best ways. “Don’t stop,” she said, allowing her head to drop against the pillow behind her and her eyes to fall shut. She’d said those same words to him more times than she could count. She wasn’t sure when a foot rub had ever gotten her so worked up, but she liked it. And she blamed the pregnancy hormones.
“Can I ask you something?” Blaze’s voice was low and smooth.
“Anything.”
His fingers stilled for a half heartbeat before falling back into rhythm. “Do you have a name picked out?”
Her eyes opened, and she raised her face to look at him. “Natalie, if it’s a girl.” To honor her sister. “Blaze, if it’s a boy.” She pressed her lips together as a flicker of shyness cooled her thoroughly. “If that’s okay with you.”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Yeah?”
Blaze cleared his throat, head bobbing and smile growing. “I’d like that. A lot, actually.”
The familiar tones of a breaking news story drew their attention to the television, where Sarah’s drawing of the man who’d attacked Maisy and killed Clara appeared onscreen.
Maisy used the remote to increase the volume. Sergeant Maxwell had been immeasurably kind to her when he’d arrived in Blaze’s office. He’d promised to have the sketch distributed to every major news channel and media outlet possible before dinner. And it looked as if he’d gotten that done. According to Maxwell, the attacker’s image was also being run through facial recognition software. A match would provide law enforcement with a name and profile to use in tracking him, including known associates and addresses.
“We’re going to find him,” Blaze said, sliding his hands over her ankles and tightening his grip once more.
Maisy had changed into her pajamas while Blaze made dinner. Now, his confident fingers were making their way up the soft cotton material, kneading and massaging her tired calves as they went.
“Still okay?” he asked.
She fixed him with a disbelieving stare. “You know I love this. You know I’m a sucker for all forms of massage. So, what exactly are you up to, Blaze Winchester?” Certainly not a trip to the bedroom. Unless he found women the size of tugboats, and roughly shaped like one, sexually arousing.
He grinned. “I’m just trying to be a good host. Make you comfortable. Show you I’m glad you’re here.” His expression went serious. “Maybe show you how incredibly sorry I am that you were ever in danger on my watch.”
That made more sense. This was an apology massage.
“Not your fault,” she said for the tenth time since she’d been attacked. “It is your fault I’m alive, however. Because you had the forethought to arm me with a weapon I could easily access and use. It’s also your fault I have a full stomach of nutritious food right now. That all my things are under this roof. And I have a safe, warm, dry place to sleep. Those things are 100 percent on you.”
Blaze shook his head in disagreement as she spoke. “You’re smart,” he said, his magic hands determinedly erasing the stress of her day, and possibly the bones in her body. “Not everyone could have acted as quickly. Thought as clearly. Made the move to escape before being taken.” He worked the muscles of her calves with impressive care and expertise, fuzzing up her thoughts. “And it was your idea to talk to Sarah today. You’re the reason this guy’s face is on television. Now he’s on the run.” Blaze tipped his head toward the newscast without breaking her stare. “You did that.”
A zealous onscreen reporter recapped the uglier details of Maisy’s last two days.
“Someone will recognize him,” Blaze assured. “People will call in and testify to seeing him at the local gas station or serving him at a sandwich shop. Maybe they’ll know his cousin’s girlfriend, but they will call.” Blaze smiled. “And then we’ve got him. If we’re lucky, he’ll flip on his employer in exchange for a plea bargain. Then his testimony can be added to our case at Luciano’s trial.”
Maisy rubbed her stomach where the muscles began to bunch and tighten across her abdomen. “So, I did okay,” she said, working her lips into a little smile. “I guess we make a good team.”
“The best,” he said, voice thick with promise and nostalgia. “The way I recall it, you and I were good in every way.”
Maisy bit her bottom lip and shifted as heat rose through her chest and pooled in her core. Her breasts tightened, and she ached for the complete intimate connection they’d shared so many times before.
But that would have to wait until she could see her feet again, if that was what he was thinking about. Everything else in her life had to wait until the day Luciano was behind the bars of a maximum-security prison, cut off from his network. A day when she no longer had to worry a killer lurked nearby, tasked with her murder.
Until then, she needed to get her head on straight. She had to stop getting lost in the past, wishing things were like they were before. Because everything had changed.
BLAZE WATCHED MAISY, loving her shy smile and the sweet blush across her cheeks. He especially enjoyed knowing he’d put that expression on her face and incited the heat. Being there with her, so comfortably, so casually, was all that he’d dreamed of for a very long time.
Now, here they were. Together again. Despite the hurricane trying to tear them apart.
And he was touching her.
And she was enjoying it.
And the connection felt so powerful, he had to force himself not to press his luck and scare her away. If she still cared for him the way he cared for her, one day soon their life together could be like this every night, minus the danger. He and Maisy could be teammates, conquering whatever life threw at them. Because he and Maisy were great together.
He cradled her feet on his lap, working his fingers over the soles then the tender muscles of her calves, willing to comfort her for as long as she would allow it. He’d truly missed these simple moments with her, and he hoped selfishly she felt the same way. Everything was easy with Maisy, comfortable and familiar, even when they’d been new to one another. The connection between them was like nothing he’d ever felt before.
And now they had a baby on the way.
There was no denying his incredible physical attraction to her. He doubted any amount of time or distance could have changed that. But it was impossible to know if the feelings were one-sided. Or if she could ever want him again the way she once had. After all, he’d gotten her pregnant, then vanished from her life. Logically, he couldn’t have done anything differently, because he hadn’t known about the baby, but logic didn’t always matter where emotions were involved.
He ran his hands over her calves, stopping to grip the sensitive space behind her knee.
Maisy sucked in a breath, and their gazes locked.
The familiar heat in her eyes sent flames licking through him, spreading like wildfire and tightening his jeans.
“Maisy?”
“Uhm.” She averted her eyes, red scorch marks slashing both cheeks. “I should get to bed. I’ve had a long day, and Isaac said I should rest. Is that okay?” She swung her legs away from him.
“Of course,” he said, lifting his hands.
She paused after she stood, apparently conflicted. “Maybe I should sleep on the couch this time. You suffered out here last night.”
“I’m fine,” he said, dropping his hands to his lap. “How about I walk you to your door?”
She rolled her eyes and huffed a laugh as he stood and followed her toward his room.
She stopped after only a few paces and gripped her middle.
“What’s wrong?”
She grimaced, bracing a palm against the wall. “False contraction. I’m fine. It’ll pass.” She smiled, breathing in strange little puffs. “I just wish these practice runs weren’t quite so realistic.”
Blaze moved in closer, brushing hair away from her face. “Here.” He looped an arm around her shoulders and turned her to him.
She went easily, rubbing her middle and letting Blaze keep her upright as she navigated the evident pain. “I was supposed to begin Lamaze classes by now,” she said. “Dr. Nazir recommended them last month, but I put off registering. I figured I’d wait and take the classes once I got back home instead.”
“Lamaze?” he asked, gears turning in his head. Classes to prepare women for labor and delivery.
She nodded, expression still tight with discomfort. “I have a birth plan,” she said. “I want a natural delivery with dim light and soft music. Lamaze will help me manage the pain.”
“Do you need a partner for those classes?” he asked, almost certain most women did. Not that Maisy had ever seemed like any other woman to him.
“Yeah,” she said, cautiously. “Usually. Why?”
“I’d like to be your partner,” he offered.
Her face snapped up, curiosity and surprise on her brow. “Okay.”
He smiled.
Maisy stepped away, breathing a little more naturally. “I should lie down now. I’ll see you in the morning?”
Blaze stuffed his hands into his pockets, hating the chill left in her absence. “I’ll be here if you need anything.”
And just like that, he watched her walk away again.
And he hated it even more this time around.