Silent Run - Barbara Freethy [73]
When she returned, he took the drink out of her hand and drained it in one long, soothing swallow. Sarah watched him with concern in her eyes. He’d seen that look on her face a few times when they’d been together, but always when she’d been worried about Caitlyn—the first time Caitlyn got the croup, then when she got the flu and ran a high fever.
They’d stayed up all night together, taking turns rocking Caitlyn, putting cool towels on her forehead, giving her sponge baths. Sarah had been distraught with fear that something bad would happen to her daughter. And he had tried to reassure her, but the truth was that he’d been just as scared. Finally the fever had broken, and Caitlyn had bounced back in record time. He thought it had probably taken Sarah longer to get over that illness.
Now she was looking at him with the same fear, as if she were afraid for him. He’d thought she’d completely stopped caring what the hell happened to him when she’d walked out on him. Could he trust the expression on her face now?
Sarah pulled a napkin out of the dispenser and leaned forward. “Do you mind if I get some of that blood off you?”
Before he could reply, she gently touched his forehead and cheek with the napkin. Her moves were unbelievably gentle and tender. He closed his eyes for a moment. She was so close to him he could feel her breath on his face, the brush of her breasts against his arm, the scent of lavender lotion on her skin. He was taken back in time to another place, when he’d watched her rub that sweet-smelling cream onto her skin before she came to bed. It had taken months to get that scent out of his head. Her scent. Her taste. Her touch. It was painful as hell.
He grabbed her arm and opened his eyes. “It’s okay,” he said.
She looked at him for a long, long moment, a myriad of emotions flitting through her eyes, and then
she finally sat back in her chair.
He let out a breath of relief.
“That cut doesn’t look too deep, but you might need a stitch,” she said quietly.
“It’s fine.”
“You don’t always have to be the tough guy.”
“Yeah, I do.”
She gave him a half smile. “Then you’ll be happy to know you’re developing a black eye.”
“I guess we’ll be twins,” he said.
Her smile broadened, the tension of the last few hours finding a release in his small joke. “I guess we will.” She paused, her expression growing serious again. “How bad was the fire when you left?”
“Bad. I don’t know what they’ll be able to salvage.”
“I feel terrible for everyone who lived there. It’s my fault. That fire was set deliberately to get to me.”
He couldn’t deny the obvious. “He got tired of waiting for us to come out, and he wanted the advantage. I guess we don’t have to worry about Amanda’s door anymore.”
“She could lose everything in that fire.”
“But not her life,” Jake said. “At least we know she wasn’t inside her apartment.”
“Thank God for that.” She fell silent for a moment. “I want to say thank-you, Jake.”
“There’s no need.”
“Yes, there is. You stood in front of me and faced that gun, and then you jumped that guy without any regard for your own life. You could have been killed.” Her gaze sought his. “Why? Why did you do that? You hate me. Why would you try to protect me?”
“You’re the mother of my child. I need you to find Caitlyn,” he said, but he knew that wasn’t the whole truth. The need to protect Sarah ran deep within him. He hadn’t been thinking at all when he’d stepped in front of her. It had been pure instinct.
“Well, I’m still grateful.”
“Why didn’t you keep running? You’ve got money. You could have left me.”
“I couldn’t just leave you like that.”
“You did before,” he said pointedly.
“Well, I couldn’t now. You see—”
He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Don’t— don’t say anything else.” He suddenly felt as if this conversation were more dangerous than the gun he’d faced earlier.
Sarah tilted her head to one side. “I never did— did I? Say anything else.”
“What does that mean?”
“You said before that we didn’t argue; we didn’t