Tess Gerritsen - Keeper of the Bride

As he studied her now, he realized there was no point denying it to himself: he couldn’t bear the thought of her walking out of his life. Did that mean he loved her? He didn’t know.

He did know this was not the turn of events he’d wanted or expected.

But last night he’d watched her at work in the wreckage of the bomb site, and he’d admired a new dimension of Nina, one he saw for the first time. A woman with both compassion and strength.

It would be so easy to fall in love with her. It would be such a mistake.

In a month, a year, she’d come to see him for what he was: no hero with a badge, but an everyday guy doing his job the best way he knew how. And there she’d be in that hospital, working side by side with men like Robert Bledsoe. Men with medical degrees and houses on the water. How long would it take for her to grow weary of the cop who just happened to love her?

He sat up on the side of the bed and ran his hands through his hair, trying to shake off the last vestiges of sleep. His brain wasn’t feeling alert yet. He needed coffee, food, anything to snap him back into gear. There were so many details to follow up on, so many leads still to check out.

Then he felt a touch, soft as silk, caress his bare back. All at once, work was the last thing on his mind.

He turned and met her gaze. She was looking drowsily at him, her smile relaxed and contented. “What time is it?” she murmured.

“Almost three.”

“We slept that long?”

“We needed it. Both of us. It was okay to let our guard down. Pressler was watching the house.”

“You mean he was outside all day?”

“I made the arrangements last night. Before he went off duty. I knew I wanted to bring you home with me.”

She opened her arms to him. That gesture of invitation was too tempting to resist. With a groan of surrender, he lay down beside her and met her lips with a kiss. At once his body was responding, and so was she. Their arms were entwined now, their warmth mingling. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t turn back; he wanted her too badly. He wanted to feel their bodies join, just one last time. If he couldn’t have her for the rest of his life, at least he would have her for this moment. And he’d remember, always, her face, her smile, her sweet moans of desire as he thrust, hard and deep, inside her.

They both took. They both gave.

But even as he reached his climax, even as he felt the first glorious release, he thought, This is not enough. This could never be enough. He wanted to know more than just her body; he wanted to know her soul.

His passion was temporarily sated, yet he felt both unsatisfied and depressed as he lay beside her afterward. Not at all what the carefree bachelor should expect to feel after a conquest. If anything, he was angry at himself for sliding into this situation. For allowing this woman to become so important to him.

And here she was, smiling, working her way even deeper into his life.

His response was to pull away, to rise from the bed and head into the shower. When he reemerged, clean and still damp, she was sitting up on the side of the bed, watching him with a look of bewilderment.

“I have to get back to work,” he said, pulling on a clean shirt. “I’ll invite Pressler inside to sit with you.”

“The bombing’s over and done with. Spectre’s probably a thousand miles away by now.”

“I can’t take that chance.”

“There are others who know his face. The theater ushers. They could identify him.”

“One of them hit his head on the sidewalk. He’s still in and out of consciousness. The other one can’t even decide on the color of Spectre’s eyes. That’s how helpful the ushers are.”

“Nevertheless, you’ve got other witnesses and Spectre knows it.” She paused. “I’d say that lets both of us off the hook.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can stop worrying about being a target. And you can stop worrying about keeping me alive. And go back to your real job.”

“This is part of my job.”

“So you’ve told me.” She tilted her chin up, and he saw the brief gleam of tears in her eyes. “I wish I was more than that. God, I wish…”

“Nina, please. This doesn’t help either one of us.”

Her head drooped. The sight of her, hurt, silent, was almost more than he could stand. He knelt down before her and took her hands in his. “You know I’m attracted to you.”

She gave a softly ironic laugh. “That much, I guess, is obvious to us both.”

“And you also know that I think you’re a terrific woman. If I ever get hauled to the ER in an ambulance, I hope you’re the nurse who takes care of me.”

“But?”

“But…” He sighed. “I just don’t see us together. Not for the long haul.”

She looked down again, and he could sense her struggle for composure. He’d hurt her, and he hated himself for it, hated his own cowardice. That’s what it was, of course. He didn’t believe hard enough in their chances. He didn’t believe in her.

All he was certain of was that he’d never, ever get over her.

He rose to his feet. She didn’t react, but just sat on the bed, staring down. “It’s not you, Nina,” he said. “It’s me. It’s something that happened to me years ago. It convinced me that this situation we’re in — it doesn’t last. It’s artificial. A scared woman. And a cop. It’s a setup for all kinds of unrealistic expectations.”

“Don’t give me the old psychology lecture, Sam. I don’t need to hear about transference and misplaced affections.”

“You have to hear it. And understand it. Because the effect goes both ways. How you feel about me, and how I feel about you. My wanting to take care of you, protect you. It’s something I can’t help, either.” He sighed, a sound of both frustration and despair. It’s too late, he thought. We both feel things we shouldn’t be feeling. And it’s impossible to turn back the clock.

“You were saying something happened to you. Years ago,” she said. “Was it…another woman?”

He nodded.

“The same situation? Scared woman, protective cop?”

Again he nodded.

“Oh.” She shook her head and murmured in a tone of self-disgust, “I guess I fell right into it.”

“We both did.”

“So who left whom, Sam? The last time this happened?”

“It was the only time it happened. Except for you.” He turned away, began to move around the room. “I was just a rookie patrolman. Twenty-two years old. Assigned to protect a woman being stalked. She was twenty-eight going on forty when it came to sophistication. It’s not surprising I got a little infatuated. The surprising part was that she seemed to return the sentiment. At least, until the crisis was over. Then she decided I wasn’t so impressive after all. And she was right.” He stopped and looked at her. “It’s that damn thing called reality. It has a way of stripping us all down to what we really are. And in my case, I’m just a hardworking cop. Honest for the most part. Brighter than some, dumber than others. In short, I’m not anyone’s hero. And when she finally saw that, she turned right around and walked out, leaving behind one sadder but wiser rookie.”

“And you think that’s what I’m going to do.”

“It’s what you should do. Because you deserve so much, Nina. More than I can ever give you.”

She shook her head. “What I really want, Sam, has nothing to do with what a man can give me.”

“Think about Robert. What you could have had with him.”

“Robert was the perfect example! He had it all. Everything except what I wanted from him.”

“What did you want, Nina?”

“Love. Loyalty.” She met his gaze. “Honesty.”