Imminent Danger. Carla Cassidy
in your care right now,” she said, only this time he heard no tinge of self-pity in her voice. She was merely stating the obvious.
“I wouldn’t have mentioned this to you at all, but if you’re going to be here for any length of time, you’re sure to hear about it from other sources.” Jesse rubbed his stomach, where he thought he might be trying to develop an ulcer. “Mustang’s intrepid social reporter has decided to take it upon herself and become the reporter detailing the case of Casanova.”
His stomach burned as he thought of Millicent Creighton, who at the best of times could be an irritant, but lately had been a veritable pain in the rear. Twice in the last week, he’d caught the older woman snooping around the kissing tree, looking for clues to the “madman who held Mustang in his grip of terror.” The last time he’d caught her there, he’d threatened to arrest her if he found her there again.
“Casanova…is that what you’re calling him?”
“That’s what our friendly reporter, Millie Creighton, has dubbed him.”
She released a sigh and twisted a strand of her hair between thumb and forefinger. Jesse noticed that her hand trembled slightly. “There’s really no place in this world that’s truly safe, is there?”
She didn’t wait for his reply, but rather continued. “You think you’re safe in your own home, or in a family member’s home, but there are no guarantees. You think you’re safe in your own bed, but that isn’t necessarily so, is it?”
Her unseeing gaze found him, her eyes luminous, yet holding the shadows of whatever nightmare she’d endured. “Tell me I’ll be safe here, Jesse. I just need to know that for a little while I can let go of the fear inside me.”
As Jesse saw the haunting of her eyes, felt both the tragedy and the fear that emanated from her, he wished he could reassure her, promise her sanctuary, but Jesse had never been one to make false promises.
He knew nothing about her situation, knew nothing about what danger might find her here. He wouldn’t lie, couldn’t give her guarantees that didn’t exist.
Something—an expression of need in her eyes—touched him, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. He didn’t want to get caught up in her drama, didn’t want to know her life history or what had so dramatically changed her life. She was a job—nothing more, nothing less. In two weeks’ time she’d be gone, back to where she belonged.
“My job is to keep you safe, and that’s what I intend to do.” His job wasn’t to help her work through her state of blindness, nor was it to aid her in adjusting to the losses fate had thrown her way.
Still, being sure in his mind what his responsibilities were where she was concerned, didn’t dispel the feeling that if he wasn’t very careful, he could be in way over his head with this woman.
Chapter 3
Allison awoke to sunshine warming her face. For a moment she remained still, pretending that when she opened her eyes she’d have to squint against the brilliant morning light streaming through the window.
She’d never dreamed that one day she would miss that eye-watering, slight sting of looking directly at the sun.
She stretched languidly, realizing that despite the unfamiliarity of the bed, she’d slept well. No nightmares had come to haunt her, no dreams of any kind had disturbed her rest.
Drawing in a slow, deep breath, she thought of the conversation she’d shared with Jesse last night. She’d been seeking comfort, his absolute certainty that she would be safe while in Mustang, but he’d been unable to offer her any absolutes.
She frowned thoughtfully as she realized what she’d really wanted from Jesse was more than a mere assurance that she’d be safe in Mustang; she’d wanted him to tell her that her blindness would eventually go away, that the bad guys would be put behind bars, that she’d be able to pick up the pieces of her life and that eventually the sharp, intense heartache of losing John and Alicia would fade. She’d wanted the impossible from him.
Opening her eyes, a momentary flare of disappointment flowed through her. Darkness. Always darkness. What scared her was that with each day that passed, she expected nothing more.
She was beginning to accept her blindness, and that frightened her as much as anything.
Irritated with her thoughts, she got out of bed. Grabbing the robe that awaited her, she pulled it around her and headed for the bathroom.
She was reaching for the bathroom doorknob when the door suddenly flew open, throwing her off balance. She stumbled forward.
“Whoa,” Jesse exclaimed. He grabbed her by the shoulders and her hands found the broad expanse of his chest.
Her senses filled with the scent of him, the utterly male, overwhelmingly enticing fragrance of spicy soap and shaving cream. At the same time, her fingertips registered the fevered warmth of his skin and the strength of the smooth muscles beneath.
For one crazy moment she wanted to lay her head against his chest, feel those strong muscles beneath her cheek, listen to the rhythm of his heart beating as his arms enfolded her tightly.
She stepped back, still slightly off balance as she quickly pulled her hands from his chest, as if flames of fire danced just beneath the surface of his skin.
His hands remained on her shoulders and she could feel their warmth penetrating the thin material of her robe. “You okay?” he asked, his voice huskier than usual as he finally dropped his hands.
“Fine. I just got off balance for a moment.” She felt the blush of her cheeks. She pulled her robe more tightly around her, hoping desperately that she was sufficiently covered. “I’ll go back to my room….”
“No, I’m finished in here. I’ll just get out of your way,” he said, and brushed past her into the hallway. “What would you like for breakfast?”
“Just coffee is fine. I’m not much of a morning eater.”
“Ah, your loss. I make a mean omelet.”
“Okay, maybe just a small one.” She smiled. “A woman has a right to change her mind, right?”
He laughed, the deep sound permeating through her. “From what I understand about women, it’s the one thing you can count on.” He hesitated a moment. “You need help getting to the kitchen?”
She shook her head. “I’ll manage.”
A few moments later, standing beneath the warm spray of the shower, she thought of her words. She’d manage. Perhaps it was time to stop wishing her blindness away and learn to manage what fate had handed her.
She could learn Braille, buy a computer program that would talk so she could write letters and such. There were all kinds of products available to help the visually impaired.
No! Her mind rejected the thought. Some place deep inside her was the superstitious fear that if she learned to cope with her blindness, then fate would keep her forever blind. She didn’t want to cope. She didn’t want to manage. She wanted to see. She wanted her life back.
Leaning her head beneath the brunt of the spray, she allowed shampoo and thoughts of blindness to drain away. Instead, her mind replayed that moment when her hands had touched Jesse’s chest.
Heat rushed through her at the memory.
She wished she’d had an hour to explore the muscled contours and smooth skin, wished her fingers could have taken the time to give her the mental picture that her eyes couldn’t provide.
Shutting off the water, she pulled the shower curtain open and reached for the towel near the sink, her mind still filled with thoughts of Jesse.
She pulled her robe back on and left the bathroom. In her room, she quickly dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
As she brushed her hair,