A Kiss to Build a Dream On (22 page)

BOOK: A Kiss to Build a Dream On
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C
HAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Saturday, October 13, 6:51 a.m.

B
urk placed a cup of hot coffee in Willa's trembling hands and watched as she drew a deep breath. As she steeled herself to answer still more questions from the Dane County Police, Burk wanted nothing more than to spirit her away to someplace quiet and warm. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and murmur promises in her ear to always keep her safe.

Not that Willa needed a Prince Charming necessarily. She'd proved today that she was a hell of a fighter. Underneath the white bandage on her jaw was an injury that would have felled a lesser woman. Anyone else would have blacked out or panicked at the pain. Instead, Willa had smashed her captor's head on a chair—then with a table—and escaped.

Still, he'd be damned if he wouldn't die trying to protect her for the rest of his life, so that she never had to go through anything like this ever again.

A fierce heat worked its way up his chest as they sat in the well-worn chairs in a conference room at the police station. Willa could have died today. She could have been taken away from him before he had the chance to tell her how he felt. Burk clenched his jaw. There was no chance in hell he was letting it happen again. Ever. Even if the police hadn't insisted on him coming down to the station as a witness, he still would have gone, just to ensure Willa was all right. He'd followed the police cruiser in his truck, wishing he was with her, that his arms were around her, that she knew he'd always be there for her.

Because whatever happened, he
would
be there. She would be his to treasure and keep safe forever—if she would have him, that is.

“And you were witness to this, Mr. Olmstead?” the policeman was asking. Officer Tobino was young and fresh-faced—but didn't ask questions like a rookie.

Burk snapped back to reality. “Sorry, what?”

“You came upon the scene of the crime as it was in progress?”

“I saw some broken glass on the front porch when I got there, and then heard shouting from outside. I was worried. By the time I got inside, Willa had already defended herself. Lance was knocked out.”

“Can you tell me how you gained entry into the house?”

Burk shifted. “I climbed the trellis in the back. It provides access to a second-story bedroom, where the window has never latched very well.”

Tobino looked suddenly interested. “And you know this how?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Burk saw Willa blush. “Willa and I dated in high school. I got a feel for the house then.”

Tobino cracked a smile. “Fair enough. Just a few more questions.”

On and on it went until finally the policeman closed his notebook. “I think we got what we needed. You're both free to go.”

When she stood, Willa was so wobbly that Burk placed a hand on her elbow to steady her. She smiled at him gratefully, melting his heart like coals over snow. As they filed out the door, Tobino said that Lance would be charged as soon as he was out of the hospital—probably a matter of a few more hours. It would be on top of the charges he'd already pled guilty to, meaning he'd likely go away for a long time.

“And for what it's worth,” the policeman said to Willa with a touch of admiration, “you really did a number on him. My buddy down there says he keeps shrieking every time he wakes up and lays eyes on the table in the room.”

Burk hoped he'd shriek even more when the prison doors clanged shut. He shook the officer's hand. “Thank you.”

As they exited the brick building and walked across the parking lot to Burk's truck, light filtered through the colored trees along the lot's edge. The early snow was gone. The white had been replaced by a last burst of shimmering yellow birch and poplar leaves, and golden witch hazel blooming in spidery clumps.

Willa squinted against the jewel blue sky as she faced Burk on the blacktop.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice scratchy with fatigue. “I couldn't have gotten through this without you. If you hadn't shown up when you did…”

Burk placed a hand on her cheek. Without hesitation, she leaned into his touch. His heart hammered. “You had it under control,” he said, relishing the feel of her skin against his palm, “but I'm sorry you had to go through it at all.”

“I think I would have fallen apart if you hadn't been there,” she said, lowering her eyes. “When Lance was out cold like that, my mind was just on overload. I couldn't think. I was paralyzed—and then there you were.”

“Scaring you further,” he said, trying to block out the memory of her frightened eyes, the chunk of wood shaking in her hands. “I'm sorry about that.”

Willa stared up at him. The bandage on her jaw flashed in the light. “You never said why you were over at my house in the middle of the night, you know. You told the police how you got in, and explained how you tied up Lance, but you never said
why
.”

Burk stared at her intelligent green eyes, the endless depths of them pulling at his heart. “I was coming to tell you how sorry I was. For acting like a jackass. And to tell you that I…” He summoned the words, willed himself to say them. “I care about you. So very much.”

He pulled in a breath, every muscle in his body suddenly tense. “God knows I haven't figured out how to share my feelings with you. But I was coming over to tell you I wanted to try. To make things right, I mean, between us. The house aside, Willa, I want to…to be with you. To try and make you happy.”

Willa's face went slack with surprise.

“I know it's not the time or the place to talk about all this. But I hope—no, it's not hope. I am
asking
you to give me another chance.”

Her beautiful eyes warmed, and a smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “I will say, that is the second time in the last five hours I've been dead wrong about what I thought the men around me were capable of.”

Burk smiled, admiring her resilience—her ability to be clever, even now. He tucked a few strands of dark blond hair behind her ear. Willa sighed and closed her eyes, as if she'd be content just to stand right there on the blacktop and not move again.

There was so much more Burk needed to say—that he wanted to finish the house, for no matter if she could pay or not, he would spend his whole life making up for the jackass he'd been—but he knew Willa needed to rest. “Sweetheart,” he said gently, “I have to get you home. I'll take you in my truck, all right?”

At this, her emerald eyes flew open. “You mean back to Oak Street?” The fear on her face tore at his heart.

“Not if you don't want to,” he said.

“I can't go back there,” she said, trembling. “Not yet. Maybe in a little while but, please, not today.”

“Of course,” he said, hating the plea in her voice, as if she was worried he'd refuse her. “We'll go somewhere else.”

She nodded, opened her mouth as if to say something else, then began suddenly to sob, her composure shattering. She buried her head in her hands, all her strength gone. Her shoulders shook with the force of her breaking.

Burk's throat worked against a tide of emotions. He wanted so badly to take this pain from her. Knowing he couldn't, he crushed her to him, murmuring into her hair, stroking her back, calming her the best he could.

“It's all right,” he said over and over, “I'm here. I'm here.” He ran his hands across her shoulders, up and down her arms. He kept his body close to hers, praying she'd feel his protective warmth.

By degrees, she began to calm; her ragged breathing returned to normal. Finally, she lifted her head to stare at him with bloodshot eyes and a tearstained face. She took his breath away with her beauty and vulnerability.

“I'm such a mess,” she hiccupped.

Burk placed his fingers on her chin, keeping her face tilted toward his. “You are astounding.” And then, unable to stop himself, he bent down to kiss her gently, right there in the parking lot.

He could feel the sun warming her skin and hair as he brushed his lips across hers. He meant to stop there, but he found hunger building inside him, even as he knew now wasn't the time or place.

To his surprise, Willa parted for him, and raised her arms so they twined around his neck. He pulled her closer, needing to feel her. He kissed her more urgently, letting his tongue taste her lips, then the whole of her mouth. She met his eagerness with an energy that surprised him, given her tired state. But suddenly she was plunging her hands into his hair, pulling him toward her with surprising strength.

He broke the kiss to trail down her neck, speaking into her sweet skin, his breath hot. “You should come back to my place,” he said, not phrasing it as a question.

Her tired eyes blazed with desire. “Yes,” came the simple answer. Burk helped her into the truck, then sped toward his apartment as fast as he dared, considering they were peeling out of a police station.

*  *  *

As much as he wanted to tear off Willa's clothes, throw her onto the bed, and demonstrate
all day
how much she meant to him, first things first. He demanded she take a shower, and when she protested weakly, he simply put a fresh towel and one of his old bathrobes into her hands. “It will help you feel better,” he said. “It's literally going to help you wash away this experience.”

Willa's brows drew together—she clearly didn't agree—but she finally relented. Burk pulled the bathroom door shut behind her with a gentle click. While he wanted to strip along with her, lather her body with soap, and knead her sore muscles, he gave her privacy instead. She hadn't had any time alone since the attack, and she might need a few quiet moments to collect her thoughts. To come to terms with the wrenching invasion of her house and person. He whistled loudly throughout the apartment, hoping she could hear him over the running water, wanting her to know he was there, and there was no reason to be afraid.

Finally, she emerged, her skin scrubbed and shining, her hair damp and combed. She was wrapped in his old blue robe, and the sight of her in his clothes sent a possessive prickle along the back of his neck. She smiled at him, inclining her head. “You may have been right about the shower.”

He smiled back. “I can be correct on occasion, you know.”

“Very rarely, but this might be one instance. Should we write it down?” She glanced around, as if hunting for a pad and paper. Burk took her soft, shower-warm hand in his.

“Come on, I want you to eat something.”

He led her toward the kitchen, where he'd fixed grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. It was one of the few meals his bachelor-appointed apartment could offer, but it was at least warm, and it would be filling. He pulled out a chair at the garage sale table, and invited her to sit.

“I'm not really hungry,” Willa said, eyeing the food. “No offense. I like what you've made, but I just don't feel like eating right now.”

Burk sat next to her and handed her a spoon. “Just try a few bites. That's all I ask.”

She pointed the spoon at him. “Only because you were right about the shower.” A few bites turned into a few more bites, and eventually half the soup was gone, as well as a quarter of the grilled cheese sandwich.

“Twice in one day,” she said, her eyes widening in mock surprise. “I stand completely corrected.”

Burk smiled at the glow that had invaded her cheeks, at the veil of exhaustion that seemed to lift from her. It would be short-lived, he knew, but he was glad that she at least had a reprieve from the dark weariness that had briefly sapped her strength.

“Will you trust me a third time?” he asked, reaching for her hand. She allowed him to pull her up from the table, and lead her once again down the hallway. This time they didn't stop at the bathroom. They went all the way to the end—to his room.

Burk pulled back the covers on the bed. “It's time to rest,” he said, gesturing to the bleach white sheets. “I'll stay with you until you fall asleep. And I'll be right here when you get up.”

Willa eyed the bed from the doorway. “I don't need a bodyguard, Burk. I just didn't want to go back to the house right away. But you don't have to babysit me. You don't have to tell me when it's
nap time
.”

She placed her hands on her hips, giving him a glimpse of the raw, red marks on her wrists from where Lance had tied her up. The sight of her wounds had him growling like a grizzly bear. He strode toward her and lifted her into his arms in one swift motion.

“Why do you
insist
on picking me up every time we talk about something?” she said, exasperated. But she didn't struggle.

He placed her gently on the bed, rolled up the robe sleeve, and brought her wounded flesh to his mouth. He blew softly on the tortured skin, cooling it with his breath and lips. Willa sighed, and lay back on the pillows.

“I will never let anyone hurt you again,” he found himself murmuring into her skin. “I will always be here for you. I will protect you.”

To his surprise, Willa wrapped herself around him, drawing him closer. He left her abrasions to kiss the hollow of her throat, taking in the fresh, clean scent of her. It was his soap, his robe, but still, somehow, the smell was all Willa, filling his lungs and mind.

He knew he should back away, give her space and time to recover, but hunger for her gnawed at him, overtook him. He shifted so she was fully underneath him. Resting his hands on either side of her head, he lowered himself gently to her exquisite lips, capturing them in a possessive kiss. She was his. He would never be apart from her again.

Willa arched and moaned underneath him. The sound sent an electric current along his back. “Burk,” she murmured, running her fingers over the flat hardness of his stomach and back, “I want you.”

Burk's body tightened with surprise…and desire. The naked want on her face was so compelling. Her brazen desire for him so raw and uninhibited.

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