If You See Her (28 page)

She lifted the glass to her lips. As she took a small sip, then a second, he watched her from under his lashes.

“So it doesn’t bother you that I was hospitalized?” she said, tossing it out like a challenge.

Carefully, Remy laid the knife down. Then, not trusting himself to speak just yet, he reached for his wine, but he didn’t go for sipping it. He tossed it back, but it didn’t do a damn thing to cool the rage burning inside. He’d be doing better if it was tequila. Or whiskey—straight, burning a path down to his stomach, and maybe burning through the fog of rage in his brain.

Looking at her, he bit off, “Oh, hell, yes, it bothers me. But not for the reasons you think. You didn’t belong in there and we both know it. That bastard you were married to somehow managed to manipulate the system to put you in there and
keep
you in there and that pisses me off in more ways than you can imagine. Yeah, it
bothers
me. But not like you think.”

“Thank you.” She glanced down at her glass and then back up at him.

“Don’t thank me.” He reached for his knife and went to work on the rest of the vegetables, chopping up red bell peppers with a vengeance. “Don’t thank me, okay?”

It seemed kind of weird, but as he stood there, the sleeves of his blue dress shirt rolled up, the silver knife flashing as he cut up the vegetables, Hope felt her heart flutter.

His blond hair tumbled into his eyes and she couldn’t
see that blue gaze right then, but there was a strange, burning glitter in them.

It made her belly go tight.

She slid off the stool.

As she walked around the island, he went still. She rested her hands on his waist, pressed her head against his back. “Why not?” she asked.

“Why not what?”

“Why shouldn’t I say thank you?” It meant a lot to have him say he didn’t think she belonged where Joe had put her. It meant something.

The muscles in his back stiffened. “I don’t want your thanks, Hope,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Down low, everything went hot. Tight.

“Remy?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you want from me?”

She’s trying to kill me
.

Remy put the knife back down and eyed the meal that wasn’t ever going to get cooked at this rate. Taking a slow breath, he turned around and looked at Hope.

Then he wished he hadn’t turned around, because that lazy, lambent look in her eyes was one he didn’t need to see … not right now.

Vulnerable state of mind, Remy. She’s in a vulnerable state of mind …

“I don’t want anything from you,” he said gruffly. Cupping her chin, he bussed her mouth lightly. “Nothing more than you want to give me, at least. But you don’t need to thank me for stating the obvious—and I don’t want to hear it, okay?”

“Yeah. I got that. But that’s not an answer.” She still had her hands on his sides. And her fingers were kneading him, like a little cat; it was the most erotic damn thing, driving him crazy. Tipping her head back, she stared at him, her soft green eyes warm, seductively so.

Oh, shit.

Trouble. Major trouble. How much wine had she drunk?

“What
do
you want?”

“I did answer that—whatever you want to give me. When you’re ready. But not now.”

“What’s wrong with now?”

Remy groaned. “First? You’ve had one bitch of a day. And now you’re feeling rough over some bad memories.” He dipped his head, skimmed his lips down her neck. She shivered. Despite himself, he smiled. “I want you—you know that. But when we’re together, it’s going to be because we both want it, both need it for the same reasons. Not because you need a teddy bear. And right now, I think I’d worry you need comfort more than sex.”

Hope stared at him and tried to decide if she wanted to laugh or feel insulted.

“Remy, the last thing I think when I look at you is
teddy bear
.”

He chuckled, then dipped his head and nipped her lower lip. “Good. But whatever you’re thinking … we’re not doing it. Not now. Not after the day you’ve had. Now go sit down. We’ll eat, I’ll take you home. You can get some rest.”

“You’re really into taking care of people,” she murmured.

He stroked a hand down her back. “Not people, Hope. You.”

“You ready to go home?”

It was pushing past nine. They’d had dinner. Watched a movie, cuddled on the couch and for a short while, she’d been able to just not think. Not think about that woman who’d pulled a gun on her and Law. Had a short
while when she hadn’t thought about what Law had done, how he’d used their friendship.

But time was running out, she supposed. It was late and she needed to get out of here. Go back to his place, face Law. Deal with what had happened.

It was dark and a cool breeze was blowing in through the open doors.

Hope stood on the small balcony of Remy’s place, staring out over the town square. With a heavy heart, she turned around and smiled at him. “Sure.”

“Liar.”

The only light came from the kitchen, throwing him into shadow. But as he moved closer, she was able to make out his face, see the gleam in his eyes, the faint grin on his face.

Grimacing, she said, “Okay, so I’m not ready. But I can’t drag my feet much longer, can I? At some point, I’ve got to go back.”

“Why tonight?” He joined her on the balcony and slid his arms around her waist, tucking her against him. She snuggled close, resting her head on his chest.

Then it clicked what he had just said. “What?”

“You don’t need to go tonight if you don’t want to.” He brushed his lips across her temple. “You can stay here if you want.”

Hope narrowed her eyes and tipped her head back to study him. “Weren’t you just telling me a few hours ago that we weren’t going to be doing anything while I needed a teddy bear? You decide you want to be a teddy bear?”

“No.” He squeezed her tighter. “This isn’t about being a teddy bear. Hell, I’ll sleep on the couch. But if you aren’t ready to go back there, or if you just don’t want to, then don’t.”

“It’s running away,” she said quietly. “I’m tired of running away.”

“It’s not running away.” He turned her around and cupped her chin, eased her head back until she met his gaze. “It’s about you needing some space. Reilly sucker punched you with that mess earlier—he used you, used your friendship, and don’t try to act like it didn’t hurt you. Don’t try to tell me it’s not still hurting you. There’s not a damn thing wrong with you needing a little more time before you head back there.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“It is simple. If you don’t feel like going back there tonight … don’t.”

Law blinked, then lowered the phone and stared at it—like that was really going to change what he’d just heard.

Then he put it back to his ear. “What?”

“You heard me. I’m staying over at Remy’s. I didn’t want you worrying about me,” Hope said, her voice cool. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Wait—”

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she repeated.

Then she hung up. Just like that. Shit. She’d just hung up on him.

And damn it, she was staying the night with
Jennings
?

Fuck it, he’d thought the bastard had more decency than that. He knew Hope wasn’t feeling steady right now, not after the shit he’d pulled. Damn it, he’d been kicking his ass all day over that, working out what he would say and how he would say it. He needed to apologize for what he’d done, how he’d used their friendship, and he
almost
had the words, too.

But she was staying the night at Remy’s?

“My ass.”

His arm was throbbing, his head was aching, and common sense told him what he needed to do was just grab a beer, sit down, and chill out. What he was going
to do was get the hell over to Jennings and convince Hope that what she needed wasn’t to go get seduced by some bastard who’d take advantage of her. Shit. He’d really thought Remy was better than that.

When the knock came less than a half an hour after Hope had called Law, Remy wasn’t surprised. Judging by the resigned look in her eyes, neither was Hope.

They’d been waiting for it. As though they’d had an unspoken agreement, they hadn’t bothered turning on the TV, hadn’t left the living room … they just waited.

Remy skimmed a hand down her back and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’ll handle it.”

But she shook her head. “No. He’s my friend, and he’s here because he’s worried about me.” Then she grimaced. “Probably has himself convinced you’re taking advantage of me. I’m getting a little tired of people thinking I’m incapable of thinking for myself.”

She stood up and handed him the Diet Coke she’d been drinking.

He watched as she padded over to the door. Halfway there, Law knocked again and with enough force to rattle the door on its hinges.

Remy set her drink down, along with his. Yeah, she could talk to him. That was just fine. But he’d be damned if the jackass glared and breathed fire all over her. This was Reilly’s fucking fault—he’d been the one to put Hope in a bad place earlier. If Reilly didn’t like it, he could shove it up his ass.

“I already told you, I’ll be home in the morning,” Hope said.

Law glanced up as Remy joined her at the door. The look in his eyes was one of acute dislike.
Back at you, pal
. Resting his hand on the back of Hope’s neck, Remy said nothing. But he didn’t look away from that challenging glare, either.

You fucked up, man
.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Law snapped. “I was a jerk earlier and I get that. I had no right putting you in that position. That doesn’t mean you need to cry all over lover-boy there and let him take advantage of you.”

Remy stiffened.

Hope laughed. “I knew you’d think that.” She glanced over her shoulder at Remy and smiled. The look in her eyes did the weirdest damn thing to his heart. He thought he just might melt. She reached up and touched her fingers to his lips. He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm.

She twined their fingers, letting their linked hands rest on her shoulder. “You don’t get it, Law. You don’t have to keep coddling me … I know you think you do. And that’s my fault. Hell, your mystery girl, what was her name, anyway? It doesn’t matter. She spends five minutes around us and that’s enough for her to figure out I’m not the strongest woman in the world. But I don’t need coddling. I’m
not
staying here because Remy talked me into it, seduced me into it, tricked me into it.”

She backed away from Law and her voice hitched a little as she added, “I’m staying because right now, I’m not ready to talk to you, and I’m not ready to come back to your house. I’m just not. Now please go home. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“H
ERE
.”

Hope glanced up and met Remy’s gaze in the mirror, then looked at the shirt he held out. It was a faded blue button-down and without touching it, she knew it would smell of him.

She’d sleep with the smell of him on her skin. Her heart raced even thinking about it.

He said he’d sleep on the couch. She didn’t want him to.

Taking the shirt, she forced a smile. “Thanks. You take good care of your guests.”

He grimaced. “Sometimes Brody and a friend or two of his used to crash here. I got used to keeping spare toothbrushes and stuff on hand for them.”

“How is he?” she asked quietly.

“Pissed off. Scared. But I think he’s doing better than he has in a while.” He stared off past her shoulder, but she knew he wasn’t looking at his reflection in the mirror. “I should have seen how bad he was getting. Should have made my brother look.”

“Hey.” She reached up, cupped his cheek. “What’s happening with him isn’t your fault. It’s not his, either.”

Remy shook his head. “I should have seen it.”

“He’s a kid who lost his mom. And all you ever really saw was an unhappy, angry teenage boy. That sounds like a lot of teenage boys. How were you to know it was more than that?” She slid an arm around him. “If I’m not supposed to be beating myself up over things, then maybe you shouldn’t either.”

“That’s sneaky,” he muttered. He dipped his head and pressed a kiss to her neck.

“Hmm. Did it work?”

“Dunno.” Then he stepped back. “I’m going to get the couch made up.”

“Don’t.”

The blue of his eyes glittered as he looked down at her.

Hope shifted and licked her lips. “Ahh. I mean, unless you just would rather. I’m … ah, well, you were right. Earlier. Mostly. Or partly right.” Blood rushed to her cheeks, staining them a hot, vivid red, but she wouldn’t let herself stop.

Not now. “I do want you. I never felt like this with … well, before. But I’d rather not be a basket case when it happens, and I’m not in a good place today. But …”

Her voice trailed off. Her throat closed up.

And he was still staring at her, the blue of his eyes—so burning hot.

He took a step closer, brushed a finger down her cheek. “But what?”

“Could we … ah … just sleep together? Just sleep?” She tipped her head back, staring at him.

“Is that what you want?”

“If I didn’t want it, I wouldn’t ask,” she said softly.

Heaven, Remy realized, could also come with little pockets of hell.

Looking into her wide, nervous eyes, he tried to figure out if he was going to survive this particular pocket of hell. If he didn’t, it would be well worth it.

“Okay.” He could do this, right? He could sleep—just sleep—all night with Hope Carson and manage not to touch her.

Right? He stifled a groan.

He needed a shower. Cold. First.

Then he could get into that bed with her.

“I need to shower before I go to bed,” he said.

“Okay.” She was still blushing, and once more, he found himself dying to know—just how low did that blush go?

Tearing his gaze away from her neck, he nodded toward his bedroom. “If you want to change in there, I’ll be in soon.”

After he’d done something to relieve the already painful ache in his balls—and preferably after he’d frozen himself into some state of semi-inactivity.