in fact. And she wore only a towel. Just a little scrap of material. She’d been in the shower, at her most vulnerable. At the thought of what could have happened to her, helpless rage filled him, and he found his arms tightening around her in a way they wouldn’t have done around any other victim.
Against his neck, she swallowed hard. “When I came out, I worried I wasn’t alone, that…” She shuddered and didn’t go on, but she didn’t need to.
He bent his head, put his mouth to her temple. “It’s okay now.” This was no regular victim, this was Angie. She was different, and she had been from the very first moment he’d laid eyes on her. He didn’t think of her as part of the job, no matter how much he wished he could relegate her to that part of his mind. “We’re alone. It’s all right now.”
“I know.” She sniffed but didn’t pull away. “I’m fine. I can handle this.”
Another sniff sounded.
Ah, hell. “Angie…”
“No, really. I’m okay.” But her voice cracked, and she was shaking like a damn blender. “I’m not going…to fall apart.”
“Of course you’re not,” he said, willing it to be true.
“It’s just that…I wanted excitement in my life, you know?” She let out a little hiccup. “But I had some thing else in mind. Like learning to teach.”
“It’s okay,” he whispered, rubbing his jaw over her hair, wondering who was comforting whom. Because somehow, she’d wormed her way into his heart despite his resolve.
Not good.
In fact, it was really bad. Bad timing. Bad form. Bad everything.
In his experience, women fell into two categories: the kind who couldn’t handle his job-his mother and his ex- wife, for example. And then there were the danger junkies, the woman who wanted a rush of edgy adrenaline to excite their lives.
He didn’t want to think of Angie as a danger junkie, since he under stood she was flexing her wings for the first time. She would never use him that way.
As for his job and all that entailed, it didn’t seem to faze her, but he knew, given enough time, it sure as hell would. It fazed everyone sooner or later.
Then her fingers found the skin at the back of his neck. Just a little stroke that woke up every nerve in his body.
Her other hand lay trustingly on his chest.
As he looked down at her fingers, at her, everything within him stilled. He was attracted to her, on some deep level he couldn’t ignore no matter how he tried.
And he was responsible for her-this uninhibited, sparkly-as-hell woman who was so damn warm and thrilled with her new lease on life it almost hurt to even look at her.
The truth was simple: he cared, far more than he wanted to.
Talk about terror.
Angie didn’t know how long they stood like that, wrapped together, her nearly nude body to his fully clothed one. “Sam?”
“Yeah?”
She swallowed hard and tried to put the words in the right order. “Thank you for coming. I meant to call 911 but…”
It didn’t say much for her newfound independence that she’d called him instead, but she figured she was allowed to lean on someone once in a while.
And he certainly had the strength to be leaned on. He had it in spades. God, the way he’d arrived, like the cavalry, all magnificent and edgy-looking, until he’d found her huddled in the bathtub. Then he’d gone so gentle, so…tender. She liked that side of him.
Too much.
“I don’t want to be thanked for this.”
Oh, yes, his voice was calm and assuring, but even Sam couldn’t hide his eyes, which were filled with heat and a fierce, urgent concern.
That alone warmed her toward him in a way she doubted he’d understand. It hadn’t been often in her life someone had felt those things for her. She liked it, the fierce concern. She liked it a lot. She also liked the heat. It did some thing to her insides, made her want to…glow. She’d always shied away from any serious emotional attachments, even with Tony. It made it easier when she didn’t live up to their expectations.
But she wasn’t the same person anymore. She wanted more for herself. So much more. Living life to the fullest meant no more pretending her yearnings didn’t exist.
Sam had probably never in his life had such thoughts. He was strong. His own man. If he wanted some thing, he went after it, and she admired that. “Are you always so tough?” she wondered softly. “So in control?”
He pulled back, looked at her. “I like to be in control.”
“But why?” She wanted to be distracted, and there could be no better one than learning about this man. “What made you that way?”
He lifted a broad shoulder. “Genes.”
“Your dad?”
“Actually, my mom. She’s the master of control. She’s…never forgiven me for being a cop.”
“Never?”
“Never. But that’s what I am, Angie.” He shocked her by lifting a big hand and wrapping a wet tendril of her hair around his finger. “That’s who I am.” His touch made her want to close her eyes. His voice made her want to burrow back against him. “By definition alone,” he said very, very quietly, “control is everything.”
“But you’re also a man.” A man who was touching her, very lightly, very tenderly. Her insides did a funny dance, and as if he could read his thoughts, his eyes flared at the knowledge there.
“A cop first,” he said, his voice low. Rough. “Don’t confuse it.”
“I won’t, I couldn’t.” She entwined her fingers through the silky hair at the back of his neck. “You’re a cop through and through, I can see that. I accept that.”
“I doubt it.”
“It’s true.” But she could see she’d have to prove that much to him. Maybe he’d been hurt. Betrayed. She had no way of knowing, much as she wanted to. “But this rigid control…this holding back…Sam, life can’t be lived to its fullest that way. It just can’t.”
“I don’t hold back.”
But that’s just what he’d done, from the very first with her. His mouth was so close to hers. Just a shiver, a single breath, and they’d be connected. “Don’t you?” she whispered.
He stared down at her mouth.
Oh yes, she had his attention now. Not as a victim. Or a responsibility. But as a woman. “I know how hard it is. Believe me, Sam, I know how hard it is to let go, because until recently, I’ve lived most of my life denying my own ambitions, my own hap pi ness. It was easier to do so than to face them. Which is really the same as all this rigid control you’ve got, don’t you see?” Her throat felt tight. “I’ve learned it’s much more fulfilling to be a butterfly than a caterpillar. I’m only guessing, because I’m still really new at this, but I know it’s going to be great.”
Still staring at her, he let out one long breath. “You’ll make a great butterfly, Angie. You will. You were made for it. But for me…that sort of thing doesn’t work. Control does.”
“And tough ness.”
“And tough ness,” he agreed with a hint of a smile. He dropped his hand from her hair. “It’s how I want to be. No exceptions.”
“But-”
He touched her again, put a finger to her lips. “No exceptions,” he repeated.
She didn’t want to look at him, not when she knew her heart was right there in her eyes for him to see. He’d hate that, so she did the first thing that came to her. She closed her eyes and pressed her face back against his throat.
He smelled so good. Like soap and heat and man. And she remembered her new vow, not to let anything stop her from what she wanted, not ever again.
