Because this man might be different.
But could I?
Risk my heart, my hope again. Because as much as I talked a big game about pretending, the organ was ready to flop over and expose its vulnerable underbelly to this man.
Alarm bells blared, the urge to turn and flee was real . . . but my feet didn’t carry me out of the room.
Instead, I closed the door and walked over to him, stopping a foot from his back as I struggled to find the words. I didn’t have anything sweet or romantic to say, didn’t have anything but the blunt truth.
So, he’d have to handle the blunt truth.
“Yes, I saved you because it was my job, because I would have done the same thing for anyone who was encountering that situation.”
His spine was ramrod straight, the muscles on the backs of his arms standing out in sharp relief when he clenched his hands into fists, and I swore I could hear his teeth grinding.
I kept talking anyway.
“I’m trained to do that,” I said. “I’m the type of person who cannot stand to see someone suffering without doing something about it.” Here, I faltered because he whipped around, his eyes absolutely blazing as they locked onto mine. “But—” I cleared my throat as he stepped closer, my heart thudding, my lips tingling. “But I wasn’t afraid for myself last night,” I whispered. “I was terrified for you, terrified that something would happen to you. Not because of the cameras—I didn’t even notice them until after it was all over. But because I was scared that you would get hurt.”
By the time I finished pushing that out, my lips were parted, breaths coming in rapid gusts, my pulse thundering in my veins.
He didn’t say anything for a long moment.
Then his throat worked, and he rasped out, “Tammy.”
And I did the only thing I could think of. I closed the distance between us, wrapped my arms around his waist, and hugged him tight. “I didn’t—I couldn’t have you think that my actions were strictly about you, because that would be a lie. I am who I am. I help people because I can.” I squeezed tighter, a relieved breath sliding out from between my lips when his arms wrapped around me in turn. “But I’m glad I was there to help you. I’m glad that I could save you, that you didn’t get hurt because . . .”
“Why, baby?” he whispered hoarsely.
The words tumbled out.
“Because I don’t think I want to live in a world where you’re not in it.”
It should have been a ridiculous, overly emotional statement. But I meant it, as scary as that thought was.
His arms convulsed, and I buried my face in his chest, feeling incredibly vulnerable and worried that I might be revisiting stupid with a capital S, but also knowing that I’d spoken the truth.
For better or worse, it was the truth.
Acceptance slid through me as I stood there with my body against Talbot’s, his fingers in my hair, his arms around me, his warm heat surrounding me.
“Thank you,” he whispered, what seemed like an eternity later, his hold loosening, his embrace loosening. His palm came to my jaw again, cupping it in a hand roughened with callouses.
God, I loved it—his touch, that hand—so much that I found my filter completely gone, my next words exploding on an all too easy blurt.
“Your hand isn’t smooth.”
His face registered surprise before his golden eyes were molten. “Swordplay.”
My brows rose. Um. “What?”
“My next film is set in King Arthur’s times,” he said. “I’m a knight.”
Somehow that was absolutely fitting. “Is the armor shining?” I asked lightly, my lips tipping up. “Or dinged and rusty?”
A chuckle that caressed my skin like a thousand intangible fingers. “Hopefully, the first.” A shrug. “But probably, the second.” He shrugged again. “Let’s just say that I’m a knight with some baggage.”
I grinned. “I can’t wait to see it.”
His hand twitched on my cheek, an emotion I couldn’t decipher trailing across his face before it was replaced with something I could. With amusement. “The swordplay?” he asked innocently.
A snort. “That, too.”
He waggled his brows. “But”—more mock innocence here—“I thought I already did.”
I stepped out of his arms, rolled my eyes. “Well, clearly you’re feeling better, so I’m just going to go.”
I turned for the door.
An arm slipped around my waist, reeled me back in.
“Tammy?” he asked, his lips very close to my ear.
“Hmm?”
He spun me, stared deep into my eyes.
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
My lips curved, and I rose on tiptoe.
Then I kissed him first.
Chapter Seventeen
Talbot
By the time I managed to stop kissing Tammy and extricate us from the bedroom, Maggie had arranged a command center in the family room.
Two laptops open.
Her cell phone on the table.
Piles of paper stacked on every available inch.
She glanced up when we walked in, and her smile didn’t hide her concern. I saw it in her eyes, pressed into the lines around her face. But her voice was natural when she patted the couch next to her and said, “Let’s take a look at what I’ve put together.”
I nodded, and still holding Tammy’s hand, I sat on the couch. Which meant that she was stuck sitting beside me.
Muhaha.
Not that she was looking at me. Not in the least. She was staring at the screen on the laptop, and I turned my gaze there.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered.
“What?” I asked. She’d already seen a lot of this earlier.
“That’s The New York Times,” she sputtered. “I—oh, my God. This is just—” She popped to her feet. “How can I be in it? And on CNN? And—” Her hands came up to her hair, gripping tightly before she winced and dropped the hurt one back to her side.
I snagged her hand. “It’s a slow news cycle right now. It’ll blow over.” Said with much more confidence than I actually felt.
