Jumping up, she ran for the bathroom, slamming the door after her.
She barely had time to register the fact that the place was surprisingly clean considering the condition of the rest of the motel room before she hit her knees and lost what little food was in her stomach.
As she retched, she heard Ryan’s voice through the door, “Open the door, Tess.”
“Go away,” she said weakly, barely able to lift her head. “I’m okay. Just a little nauseous.”
She leaned her forehead against the cold tiles lining the wall. They felt like a cool cloth on her hot forehead.
Ryan rattled the doorknob. “Open the door.”
She closed her eyes and commenced to shake, the chills taking over her body with a vengeance. “I’m okay. Just give me a minute alone.”
She didn’t want him to see her this way-retching and sweaty, her hair in her face and her body racked with tremors. She hated this feeling of being out of control. Weak and shivering. It diminished her and made her seem less than she was. And if there was one thing Tess hated more than anything, it was being seen as weak.
She retched again, and Ryan jiggled the doorknob harder. “Open the door, Tess.
Reaching up, Tess undid the bolt and Ryan stepped inside. He crouched down beside her, one hand coming out to cup her chin and turning her head toward him.
His warmth seeped into the clammy coolness of her skin and a flush of warmth shot through her. Tess blinked and stared up into the infinite compassion in his eyes. How did he have so much to give?
For the first time since they’d started their run, Tess noticed the dark smudges under his exquisite eyes. Fatigue seemed to infuse the muscle of his solid frame, and short strands of black hair lay in disarray across his forehead. She reached up and gently pushed them back, her fingers tangling in the threads for a moment before he shifted slightly.
Her heart wondered if he’d ever allow himself to take rather than receive. He’d been up for over twenty-four hours, taking care of her, watching over her every minute. Not once had he thought of his own needs. Even now, his only thought was of taking care of her.
“Tell me what you saw and be specific,” he ordered.
She dipped her lashes, breaking eye contact. “I just ate too fast.”
“Don’t lie, Tess. You had another flashback. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”
Tess knew he needed his rest. He didn’t need to spend the rest of the night giving her therapy and working out her stupid flashbacks, her disjointed dribble that meant nothing other than the fact that she was going quietly insane.
She pushed his hand away and stood up. Moving to the sink, she avoided his eyes in the mirror. Something told Tess that if she looked into those eyes too much longer, she’d become a whimpering, quivering pile of mush. And she refused to do that.
What if she did tell him what she’d seen? He’d lock her up, that’s what he’d do. People didn’t see the vice president of the United States dead with a bullet to his head without being seen as crazy. Hell, if someone confessed such a thing to her, Tess knew she’d be the first to vote that the men in white coats come and cart the person off.
She turned on the faucet, bent down and splashed cold water on her face and into her mouth. She rinsed out her mouth and tried to ignore the fact that he was standing right over her, watching her every move.
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. The concerned look hadn’t changed one iota. “I swear to you. I’m fine. Just ate too fast.”
She brushed past him, pushing aside the fact that her knees were the same consistency as undercooked chocolate pudding, and made her way over to her knapsack. She rummaged through it until she found her toothbrush. She needed to do something. To be busy. Otherwise she was going to melt into his arms like a big, whiny baby.
As she moved past him again, he caught her arm. “Will you slow down? You’re the color of rice paper and getting whiter by the minute.”
She shook his hand off and made her way back to the sink. “Funny about that-I didn’t get much chance to tan inside that prison they kept me in.”
As she squeezed the toothpaste out onto her brush, she glanced in the mirror. Sure enough, he hadn’t moved, one shoulder jammed up against the doorjamb, his corded arms folded expectantly across the broad expanse of his chest. He didn’t budge. Apparently he got off on watching women brush their teeth.
She shrugged and shoved the toothbrush into her mouth. So let him watch. No skin off her back.
“You’re probably experiencing some side effects of the medication they gave you.”
Tess didn’t bother answering. She simply scrubbed harder, trying to ignore the fine tremor in her hand.
“Why don’t you let me check you out. I could give you something to take the edge off. Something that would put a stop to the nausea and shakes.”
Tess dropped her hand to the edge of the sink, leaving the toothbrush wedged up against her cheek. She was barely aware of the fact that her mouth was filled with foaming toothpaste.
She stared at his refection in the mirror. “Are you insane? Do I really look like someone who wants more
He didn’t answer, his eyes softening; a hint of deep sympathy lurking in their depths. The sympathy angered her. She didn’t want him feeling sorry for her or feeling as though he had to take care of her. She had to take care of herself. Stand on her own two feet.
He wasn’t always going to be there. She couldn’t rely on him. He had a life, a job. She couldn’t confuse his caring attitude for something it wasn’t. Hadn’t she done that once already? He’d backed away from her, refusing to step over the line he’d drawn between them. No matter how much she wanted him, she had to respect the boundaries he’d drawn.
His confidence and powerful presence made her feel vulnerable. Naked almost. She squeezed her eyes shut. God help her, but all she wanted was to sink back into those big, capable arms and let him hold her. To comfort her and soothe her.
“If you really want to help me, just leave me alone,” she said. “I need to work through this on my own. It’s safer that way.” Safer for you, she thought.
His expression didn’t alter, the serene blue of his eyes stared steadily back at her. Damn him, didn’t he ever get mad? Was he always so infuriatingly patient? So willing to take on the troubles of the world?
She gritted her teeth. Why didn’t he just leave her ungrateful butt in this seedy hotel room and go back to his comfortable life in Half Moon?
Instead, he came back at her with the same reassuring approach she’d come to expect. “Look, Tess, I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to push me away, but it isn’t going to work. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for the duration.”
He paused and waited, as if expecting her to answer. But she didn’t. She gripped the inside edge of her bottom lip and held on tight, as if somehow she could freeze him out with her silence.
He sighed. “When are you going to learn that you can trust me?”
Tess leaned forward and spit out the paste. Cupping one hand under the faucet, she fed herself a quick mouthful of water and rinsed out her mouth. She reached over and swiped a threadbare towel across her mouth.
“Never.” She straightened up and pushed past him to reenter the room. Ignoring him, she yanked the bedspread back and climbed beneath the blankets. She turned on her side and pulled the covers up to her neck, gathering the sheet until she was wrapped up tight. “Shut off the lights when you come to bed,” she snapped, closing her eyes and heart to any more talk.
“I’m not giving up on you, Tess. Try to shut me out all you want, but I’m not leaving.”
She opened her eyes a crack to see him sitting in the chair directly across from her. She closed them again. “Suit yourself. But you’re going to get sore sitting there all night.”
“I’ve done it before.”
And she figured he had. She just didn’t want to think about how much he’d done for her. How hard he’d worked to win her trust and confidence. Because if she thought about it too hard, she’d lose the battle. The battle that
