The Perfect Stranger (19 page)

“No,” Saura said, and finally she slid the hair back from her face, looked up at him with fire in her eyes. “Not like Andrew.”

The urge to step closer, to pull her into his arms and never let go, almost sent him to his knees. “I was so determined to be untouched,” he said instead, because damn it, she deserved to know. She deserved to understand. “To be on guard and to see everything, know everything…never get taken by surprise.”

Her soft smile did just that. “That’s what I saw in your eyes at Lucky’s. The isolation—the cost of that isolation.”

Something soft and thick squeezed around his heart. “I saw you, and it was like looking in a mirror.” It still was. Through her, with her, he saw with a clarity he’d never before allowed. “I knew you were dangerous,” he said, “but I couldn’t stop coming back—couldn’t stop wanting. I told myself I could kiss without tasting, touch without feeling…”

The warm breeze blew the hair back into her face. “Zero plus zero equals zero…”

“But I was wrong.” Now he moved, couldn’t remain isolated one second longer. “You—God, Saura, you touched me before you ever even crossed that barroom.”

Stepping into him, she slid her arms around his waist. “I felt it, too.”

“I looked for you—did you know that?” He wanted her to know. Needed her to. “I went back to Lucky’s night after night, but you were never there.”

Still smiling, she lifted a hand to his face and touched the cleft in his chin with her index finger.

“And then there you were, at the Mardi Gras party—with Nathan Lambert. Do you have any idea what it did to me to see you with him? To see you smiling at him and letting him touch you—”

“He never touched me,” she said quietly. “Not like you do.”

The emotion kept right on coming, hot, boiling streams of it. Driving him. “I’m a cop. I’m trained to look for motive and probable cause—”

“You thought I was on his payroll, that I’d gone after you at his behest.”

“It made me sick,” he admitted now, as he’d been unable to admit then. “And then I found out who you were—that you’re Cain’s sister, for crissakes, and that you’d been hurt. That your family was worried about you—”

“John.” She pushed up on her toes and slid her hand to touch the side of his face. “You don’t have to do this.”

But he did. “I just wanted to make it better,” he said, and now he was touching her, too; he had his hands on her face, his fingers against the soft warmth of her skin. “To make sure no one hurt you again, that Lambert didn’t take you down with him. But then—Then everything changed, and all I could think about was you. Being with you. Touching you. Tasting—”

“More,” she said, and the sparkle in her eyes damn near slayed him.

“More.” That had been all he wanted. “And I thought I could have it, until this morning. I realized I’d violated every cardinal rule I’d set for myself. I’d failed, just like my father.”

Her mouth feathered against his. “You didn’t fail,” she whispered. “
He
didn’t fail.”

Falling. It was an odd damn sensation. Always before he’d tried to stop himself. “I had to stop it,” he tried to explain. “I had to cut it off. I thought if I let you walk away again, the blurriness would go away. That I could be that same focused cop I’d always been, that I wouldn’t be distracted and you would be safe…”

“I was wrong when I called you a coward. What you did took more courage—”

“The hell it did.” His voice was rough, but there was nothing rough about the way he wanted to touch her. “I took the easy way out and it damn near got you killed.” Hold her. “Christ, Saura…look at you. Don’t you think I know what it cost you to be with me?” Keep her. “Don’t you think I know how much courage it took for you to let me in? And how did I repay that? By letting you walk away—”

“No,” she said with a fierceness that surprised. “You can’t think like that. It doesn’t matter—”

And he couldn’t just drown in her eyes, when he wanted to drown in her kiss. In her. “I love you, Saura,” he said, taking her mouth with his own. “So damned much.”

Against his cheek her fingers tightened. “I love you, too,” she whispered, pulling back. “You know that, don’t you?”

The words nearly cratered him. Somehow he’d never let himself imagine. Never let himself hope or dream. Now he never wanted to stop. “All I wanted was for you to stay,” he said, threading his fingers through her hair. He held her as close as he could, knew he’d never be able to let go.
“For more.”

Her smile was soft, luminous. “Keep holding me like this,” she murmured against his mouth, “and there will always, always be more.”

ISBN: 9781426800368

THE PERFECT STRANGER

Copyright © 2007 by Jennifer Miller

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