Hearts Awakened (14 page)

His cell phone buzzed, vibrating on the table where he’d tossed it earlier. He flipped it open, a text message flashing on the display.
Where r u?

Shaking his head, he punched the option to reply. Why didn’t she just call him? He keyed in
Cafe
and hit send. Replacing the phone on the table, he laid the newspaper aside and watched the cafeteria doors for Tori’s entrance. A couple of minutes passed before she strolled in.

Catching his gaze, she waved. Her earrings swung against her neck and sparkled in the sunshine pouring in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. His heart lifted and squeezed tight. Damn, she was beautiful and her presence made him feel more alive, his skin tingling. He didn’t want her to move on. What he really wanted was to convince her they could have something together.

He scrutinized her face as she approached. Her eyes were red-rimmed, the dark depths shadowy, mascara smudged. She reached the table and he rose to pull out a chair. With a tight movement, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks.”

The faintly spicy floral scent she wore wafted over him. He took his seat again, still watching her. “Hungry? If you want something, I’ll go—”

“No.” She shook her head and rubbed at her eyes. “I don’t think I can eat anything right now.”

He reached for her hand, but stopped, rubbing his palm over his knee. He shifted his chair nearer to hers. “Want to talk about it?”

She closed her eyes, a deep breath shaking her. “Tick…Tick has…oh, Mark, he’s sick. He has a tumor on his kidney and they think…it’s probably cancerous.”

Her voice cracked and she covered her mouth. Mark cleared his throat. He wasn’t going to lie to her, not about this. Hell, not about anything. “I know.”

She lifted her head to look at him. Tears washed her eyes in a crystalline sheen. “What? You can’t…what do you mean, you know?”

He swallowed, linking his hands between his knees and studying the scar along his left thumb. “He called me the first day we were in Florida. He’d just had the diagnosis and he needed to talk.”

Her harsh indrawn breath hurt his ears. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“I swore I wouldn’t.” He looked up, desperation biting at him. She watched him with those big dark eyes, resignation and disappointment on her face. “He’s my partner, Tori. You don’t know what that means and I’d promised him—”

“Men.” She laughed, a short sound missing all humor. “No, cops. Cait would probably get it completely.”

This time, he did take her hands in his. He leaned forward, a sense of urgency making his heart thud harder. “I’m sorry, Tori. I tried to talk him into having the surgery immediately. Hell, today I threatened to tell your mother if—”

“It’s okay.” A sad expression flitted over her face. “I don’t get it, but I understand. He’d have done the same thing for you. You’re both stubborn asses without the sense God gave a grasshopper.”

“Gee, thanks.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “Sure you don’t want something? A soda or some tea?”

Her fingers tightened on his for a second. “I just want to get out of here for a while.” She pulled her hand free and smoothed her hair with trembling fingers. “I’m tired, my foot hurts and Tick’s an ass.”

He smiled. “You already said that. Come on.”

Gathering his phone, he rose and held out his hand. She stared at his palm for a moment before taking his hand and standing. She winced, resting her weight on the heel of her injured foot. “I think my painkillers wore off.”

With his free hand, he fished her keys from his pocket. “Let’s get you home.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“You already said that too.” He let himself brush his mouth across her temple. “But I’m glad to be here.”

Their hands remained linked on the walk to the car. Mark held the passenger door for her and she sank into the seat with a grateful sigh. He walked around to the driver’s side and folded himself into the car. Late afternoon sun slanted across the parking lot, glaring off windshields and chrome.

Traffic was light and he maneuvered onto the street. The hospital sat mere blocks from their apartment complex. A tiny noise, a cross between a cough and a sob, caught his attention and he glanced at her. Tears trickled down her face, glinting in the sunlight, and she had trembling fingers pressed to her mouth. His chest tightened.

A couple of minutes later, he pulled into her parking space before her apartment. Her face averted, she stared out the window, tears still running down her cheeks.

“Tori,” he whispered, “I’m sorry, honey.”

She darted a look at him and her face crumpled. “Oh, Mark, what if he—”

“He won’t.” The fierceness of the words surprised him. Her shoulders shook with near-silent sobs and he pulled her as close as the console allowed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tucked her damp face into the space between his neck and shoulder. She cried while he held her, rubbing her back and whispering calming reassurances.

Finally, the weeping lessened, and with an embarrassed laugh, she pulled back. Sniffling, she reached for a tissue. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually fall apart like that.”

Not in front of anyone anyway. Twisted sideways in the seat, Mark eyed her. He was pretty sure there were plenty of tears shed in the lonely privacy of her apartment, with its always-shining lights. He reached out to caress a stray tear from her cheek. “You don’t have to be sorry with me.”

Her hair was escaping its knot and she pushed errant tresses away from her face. “I just can’t believe this is happening. He’s only thirty-seven and he’s been through so much already. Why this? Why now?”

“I don’t know.” He ran a finger along the line of her jaw. Her questions and shock were familiar. The same disbelief and search for
why
had filled the days after Jenny’s disappearance. Nineteen years later, he still didn’t have any answers. Could he move on without them?

Tori turned her face into his caress. Her humming sigh, full of weary contentment, carried through his arm, spreading a tingling warmth throughout his body. The trust implied in the gesture slammed into him, followed by a trickle of arousal. Would she make that same little sound when he touched her?

A shuddery breath traveled through her and fierce protectiveness rose in him, tinged with a hint of possessiveness. He wanted to take the hurt and fear away, wanted to leave comfort and peace in their place. He hadn’t wanted to do that for anyone since Jenny. Doing so with Tori seemed right, the most natural thing in the world. That should have scared him to death.

It didn’t.

He cradled her cheek. Her eyes were closed, lashes dark against her skin. He rubbed a thumb over her cheekbone. “Tired?”

She nodded, eyes still closed. Her earring brushed his hand. He stroked his fingers through her hair. “You should lie down for a little while, maybe take a nap. We could go get something to eat later, if you want.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Her lashes lifted in a languid movement and she straightened. His hand fell away, leaving him with a piercing sense of loss. She smiled. “Especially the nap part.”

“You need the rest.”

She fiddled with the hem of her sweater. “Do you want to come up with me?” Her gaze darted to his and away. “To lie down, I mean. You have to be tired too.”

His lungs stopped and he struggled to catch his breath. Did he want to come up, to lie down with her, in her bed? She had to ask? “Is that what you want?”

The shadows fled her eyes for a moment. “Turning the question back on me, huh? What is that, a cop thing? Yes, I want you with me. Happy now?”

More than she knew. “Yeah, I am. Come on.”

He pulled the key from the ignition. Maybe this whole thing between them didn’t have to end with her leaving him. Maybe, just maybe, he could become the man she deserved. Maybe she could teach him to start living again. Guilt slithered through him with the thought and he squashed it. He didn’t want that between them right now.

She limped up the stairs and he followed. The cream-colored slacks she wore skimmed over the perfect roundness of her rear end. Man, she had the cutest ass he’d ever seen. A vivid image flashed through his head—kissing her, his hands molding the delectable curves and pulling her into him.

“We could stay in for supper.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I probably have something in the…what are you doing?”

He lifted his gaze to hers, unable to resist a grin. “Enjoying the view.”

“You…” Her mouth snapped shut. “You’re impossible.”

He leaned a shoulder against the wall by her door and handed her the keys. “I’m not supposed to like looking at you?”

Color flaring in her cheeks, she flicked a sideways peek at him and pushed the door inward. “I…I don’t know. I’m new at this. I don’t know the rules.”

“What rules?” He followed her inside. Warm, spicy scents washed over him—cinnamon, cloves, a little citrus. He stopped, staring. The living room had one color, white. White couch, white shutters, white sheers, white pillows. But the room overflowed with textures, and warm pine tables and scarred antique pieces enlivened the area.

The layout of the apartment mirrored his, but the two dwellings couldn’t be more different. He’d never seen so many things in one room in his entire life. And she’d bought more while they were in St. Augustine. Where the heck did she plan to put the stuff?

Tori threw the deadbolt and dropped her keys on a tiny table. She opened the foyer closet door and closed it. Mark eyed the living room scheme. Even with items covering every inch of space, the room felt restful, comforting.

“Busy, isn’t it?” Tori walked by him and peeped into the kitchen. She opened the utility room door and closed it. When she crossed the hall to her bedroom, he frowned and followed. She opened the closet door and wandered to the bathroom to peer inside.

His stomach clenched. He’d watched her check the motel room in Florida the same way, but her actions here had the unconscious routine of a ritual. This was proof of the fear Reese had stamped on her life. Anger burned in his gut. Billy Reese better hope the parole board kept him locked up in Reidsville for a long, long time.

She closed the closet door and glanced at him. Color flushed her cheeks and she shrugged, a tight, uncomfortable gesture. “I can’t help it. It’s a compulsion and I can’t close my eyes unless I do it.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” he said, his voice quiet. Silence pulsed around them and she shifted her weight, favoring her foot. She dropped her gaze. He looked at her bent head. Probably the reality of him in her bedroom was far removed from the idea of asking him up. He glanced at the four-poster bed with its thin, polished columns. Everything here was white too, the deep cherry wood a dark contrast to the lush, snowy coverlet.

“Tori,” he said and she lifted her gaze to his. “I don’t have to stay. You can always change your mind.”

A smile played over her pretty mouth. “No, I want you here with me. It’s just…the reality gets a little overwhelming.”

That he could understand. Last night, his finding something to do while she climbed into bed had helped bridge the awkwardness. He’d try the same thing again. Turning away, he toed out of his polished loafers and aligned them by the door.

“I’m beat.” His attempt at a light laugh sounded artificial, even to him. “You might have to wake me up for supper.”

Behind him, metal skittered on wood. Unbuttoning his shirt, he glanced in the large oak mirror by the door. She’d laid her earrings on the dresser and released her hair from its knot, the dark mass tumbling about her shoulders. With a hand on the dresser for balance, she tugged off the sandals.

Barely breathing, he froze and watched her. He’d watched Jenny get ready for bed, hundreds of times, but it had never punched him in the gut like this. At twenty, being with Jenny had been familiar, something he hadn’t treasured because losing her had never occurred to him until she was gone. The rare intimacy he was sharing with Tori, the simple act of preparing for a nap, took his breath.

She tugged off her turtleneck, ruffling her dark hair even more. A silk camisole over her bra fluttered back into place. Mark closed his eyes and compelled clumsy fingers back to his shirt buttons. He shrugged out of the dress shirt and pulled his undershirt free. He looked at the mirror again. In its reflection, Tori shook out a thin blanket and folded it over the foot of the bed.

He watched, giving her time to curl up on one side of the bed before he approached. She stiffened a little when the mattress dipped under him. On his back, he folded his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. The inches between them stretched, an insurmountable gulf.

She rolled to her back. “Mark?”

“Hmmm?”

She lifted up to an elbow. “Would you hold me?”

Throat aching, he closed his eyes for a second. “Whatever you want, Tor.”

He shifted up on the pillow and held out his arms. Slowly, she scooted closer, lying next to him, a couple of inches between her front and his side. Mark wrapped an arm around her shoulders in a loose embrace and her scent enveloped him. With his free hand, he smoothed the hair from her face.

“Better?”

She nodded, her cheek rubbing against his chest. He tightened his arm for a moment. “Good. Get some sleep.”