Jo Leigh - One-Click Buy - September Harlequin Blaze

“Is he really going to resign?”

“I believe he is.”

“And?”

Tate sighed. There was no time like the present to let her father know exactly where she stood. “I don’t know. I need to make some phone calls. Michael needs an attorney and I want to make sure the inquest is in motion.”

She kissed her father on the cheek, did the same to Sara, then went for the door. “Get unpacked,” she said, standing in the doorway. “I’m in 2720. I’d appreciate any help you two want to give me.”

With that, she left the suite. On the one hand, she’d said what she needed to and felt stronger than ever. On the other hand, she was scared beyond words that Michael would disappear before she had a chance to figure out what to do.

MICHAEL SAT IN THE beach chair, staring out at the ocean as the sun rose in splendor. This was the fifth morning in a row he’d come out for the sunrise, coffee in hand-left hand-the day stretching achingly ahead of him.

He’d found this little bungalow a week ago, after all the legal maneuverings had ended and he was once again a free man. After he’d said goodbye to Tate.

Charlie was in prison, and Michael doubted he’d ever be released. It was hard justice, but there was nothing Michael could do to mitigate the circumstances. Charlie had made his bed. Michael supposed he’d feel guilty about it for the rest of his life-but then, that was his bed. His very lonely bed.

His hand was healing and his bruises were all but gone, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Tate. She’d sounded completely convincing when she’d asked him to come back. To try and live a life with her. But he knew the score. Despite his thanks, he knew William blamed him. Hell, he still blamed himself. As for a life with Tate? She was just starting to live. She deserved the world, not him. God, not him.

Sara had come in to double-team him. But at least she’d understood when Michael had explained. Tate still would have none of it.

After many tears and a lot of heartache for both of them, she’d gotten on her father’s private plane and gone back to New York.

So here he was, sitting on a beach, sipping coffee, unsure what he was going to do with the day, not to mention the rest of his life. Missing Tate Baxter more than he’d ever imagined. More than he could take.

TATE STARED AT THE foolish trompe l’oeil window in her bedroom. It symbolized so much. Her pretense of a life. Her false dreams of adventure and romance. Every precious moment she’d wasted in her fear.

She owed Dr. Bay an apology. In retrospect, the kidnapping had been a good idea-the fake kind, at least. Tate truly was a different woman now. Yes, she still suffered from nightmares and she wasn’t going to give up on therapy anytime soon, but she no longer wanted to hide herself away. Life beckoned in the most alluring ways. Unfortunately her new dreams all centered around a man who didn’t want her.

It occurred to her that she might not be thinking in the most rational terms. The experiences on the boat had been traumatic and profound. Perhaps, as her father had suggested, she’d gone through some sort or variation of Stockholm syndrome, where her beliefs about Michael were totally out of proportion to actual events.

But after a month back home of intensive journaling and visits to her new therapist, she didn’t think so.

She missed him. So badly it ached, and not in a metaphorical sense. She yearned to be with him, to hear his voice, smell his scent. She couldn’t stand that he was alone, that his hand wouldn’t heal for a while yet, that he had to deal with the consequences of his brother’s sentence. All alone. He’d put his own life at risk so many times for her. But it wasn’t just gratitude or guilt that made her want him.

She’d become someone new with him. She’d seen herself through his eyes, and for the first time in her life she’d liked what she’d seen.

Michael believed in her. He’d convinced her of her own strength over and over again.

And, she had to admit, she missed making love to him. There was no doubt in her mind that the two of them were meant to be together.

Unfortunately there was a giant roadblock between them, and it wasn’t the fact that he blamed himself for the kidnapping. It was the money.

“Knock-knock.”

Tate turned to find Sara at the bedroom door. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Right back at ya,” Sara said. She was in her workout gear, looking radiant, and she sat on the bed with a plop. “Come with me?”

“I will,” Tate said. “But not today.”

“You said that yesterday. I know you’ll like my trainer. He’s got the best ass in the five boroughs. Seriously. It’s worth all the pain just to watch him bend over.”

Tate grinned. “I missed you.”

“I’m glad. It would have hurt my feelings if you hadn’t.”

“You’re my sister, kiddo. So when I ask you something, I trust you’re going to be honest, right?”

Sara crossed her heart.

“I can’t let go of Michael. I miss him too much. I love him.”

Sara’s smile faded as she nodded. “I figured.”

“I want to go to him. Do whatever it takes to make him see that we can be together. Except…there’s the whole money problem.”

Sara’s head went down for a long time. Tate thought of calling the kitchen for tea, but she didn’t want to disturb Sara’s thought process.

Finally her friend looked up. “It’s a big problem, and I don’t know Michael well enough to predict if he can get past it. But something that might help is the reward.”

“What reward?”

“Your father offered a million dollars to anyone who was instrumental in finding you. Michael was instrumental, all right.”

“He didn’t tell me.”

“Yeah,” Sara said. “Go figure.”

“Surely he’d have to agree that Michael deserves the reward.”

Sara laughed. “Your father? Come on, Tate. He’s going to blame Michael for a long time.”

“But Michael deserves-oh.”

“Exactly.”

Tate grinned. “Do you think I’m crazy?”

“Only if you don’t try. Tate, you haven’t taken a risk in so long. I think taking this one will make up for it. The worst that’s going to happen is he’ll break your heart. And since your heart is already broken, it can’t be that much worse.”

Tate felt her pulse race and her heart pound. Sara was right. It would be scary to go to him-but then, she had faced scary. And she’d kicked scary’s ass.

ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER sunrise, and Michael wasn’t getting better. His hand was healing, but missing Tate continued to get worse.

He didn’t understand. Yes, he was depressed. He got that. He’d made some big mistakes and there had been consequences. That wasn’t what was making him nuts.

That had everything to do with Tate. Not Charlie, not the kidnapping, not the killings. Tate haunted his dreams, haunted his waking hours. He kept thinking about how she’d been so brave, how she’d fought so hard. He remembered, too vividly, the way her skin felt, the taste of her flesh, how he felt when he slipped inside her.

He took a sip of coffee, wishing she were there, wishing he could find a way to justify calling her. If he couldn’t do that, he wanted a way to forget her. Perhaps now that Charlie was in jail he could go back to the Army. If his hand healed correctly. If they’d take him.

It would all be a lot easier if he would stop thinking he saw her out of the corner of his eye. Every woman with reddish-brown hair made his pulse race. Until he saw that it was just a woman and not Tate. Then he’d hear a voice, and the cycle would start over again until he saw it was a stranger.

The persistence of her memory had taken him over. Like a virus, she had spread throughout his system. Unfortunately there were no pills or shots to help him.