Page 10 of The Survivor (Silhoutte Romantic Suspense)

S am swallowed. Tried to make sense of what had just happened. Was she sorry?

It quickly dawned on her that she wasn’t.

Dammit, why not? Though she’d been the one to pull away, she found herself wanting to kiss him again, to taste his firm lips and lose herself in his powerful arms again.

Not a soothing realization, not for a woman who’d months ago—days ago—cringed at the mere thought of having a man touch her.

The attack had broken something inside her.

Her trust, her faith, her ability to ever feel safe around a man.

Yet here she was, staring at the rueful face of the man who’d just kissed her, and she not only felt protected but more turned on than ever.

“I mean it, Sam. I’m sorry,” he said when she didn’t reply.

She walked around the counter, wanting to put some distance between them as she absorbed the strange emotions swirling through her. “It’s all right.” She was shocked that she could keep her voice so steady when her pulse still wasn’t.

His jaw tight, Blake rubbed his temples. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

The shame in his tone irritated her. “I had a part in it too, you know.”

“ I kissed you.”

“I let you.”

He let out a strangled groan. “I took advantage of a vulnerable moment.”

He turned around and pressed his clenched fists on the edge of the sink. Shoulders stiff. Back wrought with tension.

She averted her eyes. She didn’t want to see that look of shame still swimming in his eyes, not when she was feeling the furthest thing from ashamed.

If anything, she suddenly felt liberated.

For the first time in six months she’d let a man get close to her.

Whether she fully trusted Blake Corwin she didn’t know, but the very fact that he’d been able to get within two feet of her, that she’d allowed him to kiss her, at least hinted that she was learning to trust again.

“Sam, look at me.” His pained voice made her glance up. When she did, she saw that his control was back, that cool steady composure she’d begun to suspect was his trademark. “You’re probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

Huh?

She would’ve said thank you if it weren’t so damn obvious that there was a but coming.

“And—I’m attracted to you.”

She blinked in surprise. “You are?”

“Were you not here for that kiss?” he grumbled.

A small laugh slid out of her throat. “Were you not here for what happened after the kiss? Your bumbling apology and that spiel about taking advantage of me?”

A flicker of amusement filled his gaze, but it faded fast. “Look, I won’t deny the attraction, but—” and there it was “—I also won’t act on it again.” He slowly unclenched his fists and let his hands dangle at his side. Master of control.

She lifted a curious brow. “Why not?”

“Because I’m in the middle of a case.”

“Isn’t that your job, to work cases?”

“Yeah.”

He was looking at her like she was a complete idiot, so she tried to rephrase. “I mean, you must work a lot of cases a year, probably one after the other, right?”

Blake’s eyes grew wary. “Yes.”

“So if you don’t get romantically involved with anyone while you’re on a case, and if you’re always on a case, then when do you get romantically involved?”

He offered a faint smile. “Is that some kind of riddle?”

“It’s a valid question,” she said in her defense. “When do you make time for your personal life?”

“I don’t,” he said simply.

“You don’t?” she echoed, dubious.

He cast what looked like a self-deprecating smile her way. “I don’t do relationships well,” he admitted in a gruff voice. “Actually, I don’t do them at all. Not anymore.”

“What happened to make you decide that?”

“I lost the woman I was going to marry.”

Since she hadn’t really been expecting an answer, his candor thoroughly surprised her.

Before she could open her mouth to press for more details, Blake reassumed his professional demeanor. “It’s late. You should get some sleep.”

“I’m not tir—”

“Listen, Sam, I don’t agree with your decision to see Elaine again. But if you feel you need to, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure that you are kept safe.” He offered a brisk nod. “Good night.”

Disbelief poured into her like a gush of water. She watched in stunned silence as Blake disappeared into the darkened hallway.

What on earth had just happened? One second he was kissing her, the next he was apologizing, and then he was gone. Just like that.

She sagged back against the counter, listening to the troubling sound of Blake’s footsteps ascending the stairs. Her mouth still throbbed from his kiss and every muscle in her body was taut, coiled with anticipation that was obviously going to be left unsatisfied.

Why had he kissed her? Why had he stopped? And why had he told her about losing the woman he’d loved when it was clearly something he didn’t like to talk about?

Rubbing her forehead, she tried to push the questions from her mind, knowing that, like her desire, they wouldn’t be satisfied.

And maybe that was for the best. Maybe she didn’t want to know about Blake’s lost love, or why he didn’t feel he could get involved again.

Maybe what she really needed to do was take his lead and focus on the only thing that mattered right now: catching the madman who’d attacked her and putting an end to his reign of terror.

And maybe—though this was a pretty big maybe—she might actually be able to go to bed without lying awake all night thinking about Blake’s kiss.

* * *

When Sam walked into Elaine’s hospital room early the next morning, she found the young woman in tears.

As heart-wrenching as that was, witnessing Elaine’s obvious distress only made Sam glad that she hadn’t listened to Blake’s suggestion about saving this visit for tonight.

When she’d awakened, the very last thing she’d wanted to do was sit around Blake’s house all day, twiddling her thumbs while she waited for night to fall so she could see Elaine.

Blake had tried talking her out of it, but in the end she’d convinced him that the morning visit wouldn’t be the end of the world.

She hadn’t been comfortable on her way up to Elaine’s room, dodging nurses and visitors in the halls, but now she was happy that she hadn’t listened to Blake’s objections.

She wasted no time rushing to Elaine’s side.

Without hesitation she pulled Elaine into her arms, gently stroked her brown hair, and murmured, “It’s okay. Tell me what happened.”

Elaine simply whimpered and clutched at the corner of the newspaper as if it were a lifeline she couldn’t let go of.

Pulling back, Sam reached for the box of tissues on the bedside table and handed one to the young woman. “Please, Elaine. Tell me what’s got you so upset.”

Elaine wordlessly handed her the newspaper, which was open to the wedding announcements. The top of the page displayed a photograph of a young, smiling couple. The caption read Charles and Davis to marry .

Sam looked up, questioning. “Do you know him?” She glanced again at the handsome blond man in the picture. Matthew Charles.

“My ex-boyfriend.” Elaine’s voice was scarcely above a whisper. “We broke up a few months ago. It was before the…attack.”

“And he’s getting married. Is that why you’re upset?”

Elaine sniffled. “I know I shouldn’t be.

After all, we broke up. But I never stopped loving him.

I just needed to focus on my new job for a while.

He didn’t take it well, started dating another girl pretty soon afterward.

” Her gaze drifted to the attractive blonde in the photo.

“I was thinking of calling him about a week before…the attack…but I was scared that he and his new girlfriend might be serious. I guess they were.”

Sympathy bloomed in Sam’s chest. Though she couldn’t say she’d ever truly been in love, she did know what it was like to care deeply about someone. She could just imagine how Elaine felt now, dead to all who knew her, seeing a past love moving on with his life when she couldn’t do the same.

“It’s not as if I want him back.” A bitter scowl creased Elaine’s delicate mouth. “After what happened to me, I don’t expect another man to ever want me.”

Sam quickly cupped Elaine’s chin and forced her to look at her. “Don’t say that,” she ordered. “You’ll fall in love again.”

“Who’s going to love me?” Elaine laughed harshly and lowered the sheet covering her body. All that gauze instantly sent a piercing shot of pain to Sam’s heart. “I’m damaged.”

“You’re not damaged.” Sam’s voice wavered. “I don’t want to ever hear you say that.”

It became hard for her to breathe, especially when the words coming out of this young woman’s mouth were the exact words Sam had uttered not so long ago.

Nobody will ever want me. I’m tainted. I’m damaged goods.

That’s what she’d told Annette Hanson, what she’d believed for months after the attack.

Normal thoughts to have, she knew that. Being attacked and left for dead did that to a girl.

Elaine had every right to feel the way she did.

Hard as it was to admit—and it made her guilty as hell even thinking it—Elaine had it worse than her.

Sam had thought that one rose on her body, that stark evidence of being branded, would be enough to send any man running.

But Elaine had a lot more scars. So many that Sam wondered if the girl would ever meet someone willing to look past the damaged shell and appreciate the courageous beauty inside.

“I wish I’d died that day,” Elaine whispered. “Do you ever wish that?”

“I did at first,” she admitted. “I was so angry, lying there in the hospital. I went back and forth from self-pity, thinking I was better off dead, to self-hatred, blaming myself for what happened.”

“How could it have been your fault?”

“It wasn’t.” She smiled faintly. “But at the time, I thought it was. I left my bedroom window unlatched. That’s how he got in.”

“He attacked you in your house?”