The Reunion Mission. Beth Cornelison
A walk on the wrong side of the tracks so she could flout her father’s ideals?
“Who says there’ll be a next time?” she said. “Maybe I’m ready to go back to Houston and finish my nursing degree! It’s exactly what Mom would have wanted!”
As her argument with her father grew more heated, Daniel raked a hand through his hair and battled down the bitter hurt and anger that roiled inside him.
She’d used him. She’d seen an opportunity to hook a man her father saw as unworthy and dangle her tryst in the senator’s face. A sharp ache of betrayal raked through his chest, and he snatched his pants and dress jacket from the closet.
Nicole’s voice became a muted drone as he dressed and put on his shoes. By the time he gathered his hat and cell phone from the nightstand, a sour disgust, with himself and with Nicole’s betrayal, had risen like bile in his throat.
The shower was the only sound from the bathroom when he gave the room one last glance for anything he’d missed. The rumpled bed served a vivid reminder of what had transpired the night before. He might have been making love to Nicole, but he’d gotten screwed.
Nicole sat on the floor of the shower, silent tears tracking down her cheeks. She had to pull herself together, couldn’t let Daniel see how deeply her father’s attitude hurt her. Somewhere during the night, making love to Daniel, she’d realized the only way to get her life back under control was to make a clean break from her father. She couldn’t be the daughter he wanted her to be, and trying was suffocating her.
Losing her father, so soon after losing her mom, made it all the harder to break free. But if she needed any reminder how differently they viewed the world, it had been obvious when her father had referred to Daniel in such derogatory terms. She’d thrown the words back in his face, hoping her father would hear how elitist he sounded, but Alan White couldn’t see what she saw him becoming. And it broke her heart.
Shutting of the water, Nicole dragged herself from the shower and dried off, deciding how much to tell Daniel about the argument he had to have overheard. The truth, of course, but how much of the truth? She was still grappling with the truth herself.
Finally, pulling on the plush robe the hotel provided, she headed back out to the room to face her future. And found no one there.
Chapter 4
Present day—New Orleans
Daniel woke slowly, keeping still, using all of his senses to test his surroundings for possible threats before opening his eyes. He’d been trained to assess every new situation carefully, especially if he was at a strategic disadvantage. Which he was, based on the throbbing ache in his knee and no memory past struggling to the chopper amid gunfire.
The beep of electronics and the murmur of distant voices, too muted for him to distinguish what language they were speaking, met his ears. He lay flat on a soft surface and had covers over him. A bed. His knee hurt like the devil, and he had tubes and needles poking him. His head felt a little muzzy, likely from some kind of painkiller, but he began to build a picture. He could smell antiseptic and … roasted chicken? His stomach growled.
So he was in a hospital room. But where?
And someone held his hand. That fact made his pulse trip. Who—?
He cracked his eyes open, peeking out through his eyelashes, careful not to alert his company to his waking … just in case.
Nicole sat in a wheelchair beside his bed, her head lolling to the side, her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted. Asleep. She wore a blue hospital gown and an IV bag, hanging from a pole attached to her wheelchair, was hooked up to her right hand. As when he’d found her asleep at the prison camp, he was struck by how beautiful she looked, despite the circumstances. And how vulnerable.
On the heels of that thought, he flashed to the jungle. To Nicole pushing herself to keep up despite her obvious exhaustion. To her feisty determination not to leave him behind when he was shot. To her stubborn protectiveness over the little girl.
No. Nicole White might look vulnerable, but a tenacious streak ran through her.
He angled his gaze to their joined hands, determined not to read anything into her presence in his room. Hands he remembered as delicately feminine and soft were now chapped and showed the wear of harsh living conditions. Her once well-manicured fingernails were short and ragged, her skin marred by cuts and bruises. The physical reminders of her ordeal caused a twisting sensation deep in his chest.
Oh, my God! Daniel … He’d blacked out shortly after her eyes had widened in recognition. Finally.
Disappointment pinched him.
But … the jungle had been dark, their situation had been perilous, and their last meeting had been over five years ago. His appearance had changed some over the years.
Still … it stung that she’d not known him immediately. Especially after the intimacies they’d shared their one night together. Daniel sighed. One night five years ago and one night ten years ago. Maybe he was asking too much to think she’d remember him. And even if she did recall everything that had happened that night in New Orleans, where did that leave them?
He had to remember who her father was, the reason they’d only had the one night, the way she’d used him.…
A spike of bitter resentment seeped through the golden memories and gnawed in his gut. Nothing was settled between them. Clenching his back teeth, Daniel eased his hand out from under hers, careful not to wake her, then shifted in the bed to give her his back.
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