Loree Lough - Out Of The Shadows

She did her best not to reply in a bored monotone. “I’ll pray on it.”

His eyebrows rose high on his forehead. “Pray on it? What good do you think that’ll do? Religion, prayer, guilt—tools used by organized religion to make us feel beholden.”

She’d pray, all right, but not about whose fault the accident was. She’d ask God to give her the strength, the wisdom, the words that would turn Wade’s heart toward Christ.

He placed both hands on her shoulders. “I’m serious, Patrice. You’re a terrific woman. You should be living a full, happy life. How are you gonna do that if you’re emotionally exhausted from lugging around guilt that isn’t yours?”

Narrowing her eyes, she regarded him with sudden suspicion. I’ll live a full, happy life—as long as I keep a safe distance from romance! she thought. If only she could back up the tape, erase this whole episode.

With no warning, he gathered her to him in a warm, protective embrace. Automatically, her arms went around him.

“What am I gonna do with you?” he sighed into her hair. “You’re as bighearted and pigheaded as they come,” he added, kissing the top of her head, “and while that’s a tempting combination, I have a practice to run. I can’t be—”

She broke free of his hold and stood, hands forming fists at her sides. “So who asked you to be my protector? I told you, I can take—”

“—care of yourself,” he finished for her. “I know, I know.” He opened the door, then clicked it shut again. “I never meant to insult you. I hope you know that. It’s just that, for some reason, you worry me.”

Patrice couldn’t help admitting that she was touched by his concern. “There’s no need for that. I’m fine.”

Wade grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him, his lips a fraction of an inch from hers. In the dim light of the foyer lamp, his eyes glittered like amber as his gaze flicked from her mouth to her throat to her eyes. She wondered what that thick, dark hair would feel like beneath her fingertips, and held her breath as she waited for his kiss.

He inhaled sharply and stepped back. “Take care of yourself, you hear? Because…”

Because what? she wondered. What did he care if her guilt was deserved or not? During the pause, Patrice thought maybe he’d changed his mind. Maybe he didn’t intend to kiss her, after all.

He cupped her chin with one trembling hand, brushed the hair from her face with the other. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are, how much I want to—”

“I had a lovely time.”

Wade blinked several times before a low chuckle began bubbling deep in his chest. “That was the general idea,” he said. “And for your information, so did I.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” she teased, “because I’d hate to add that to my guilt burden, too.”

His soft laughter wafted through her hair as he hugged her. “You’re something else, you know that?” He sighed into her ear. “You’re in big trouble now, missy.”

She looked up at him, into his sparkling hazel eyes, willing him to kiss her.

“Something is happening here,” he whispered, lifting her chin, “and I don’t know whether to run from it or straight at it.”

Patrice trembled as his muscular body pinned her to the wall. She inhaled crisp aftershave and sweet cookie breath. If he isn’t the guy for me, Lord, she prayed, speak now or forever hold Your peace.

When his lips touched hers, Patrice gasped. The soul-stirring taste of him sent silent shock waves straight to her heart. Weak-kneed and light-headed, she felt his arms encircle her, providing surefooted and much-needed support. Slowly, his fingers combed through her hair, traced down her shoulders and back, gently caressed her cheeks. His lips skimmed, light as feathers, from her earlobes to her throat to her forehead, before sliding back to her slightly parted, waiting lips.

Between kisses, he stammered and stuttered, and his words made no sense to her. “It’s been…never thought I’d…you’re like…Patrice, oh Patrice….”

When he said her name, it was a soft spring breeze, rustling the pines and sending dogwood petals floating gently through the air. Liking the way he’d warmed her lonely heart, she wanted to learn more about this strong-willed man—until her decision to keep a safe distance echoed in her head.

He seemed to sense her sudden mood swing and gradually ended the delicious kiss. “I—I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” he murmured shakily. He kept her close, though, and looked deep into her eyes. “That’s a lie. I know exactly what’s gotten into me.”

A tightrope walker could have balanced on the taut thread that linked their gazes. Wade stood back slightly, his eyes sliding over her features, reminding Patrice where his lips had been mere seconds ago. She waited for him to tell her exactly what had gotten into him.

“I sure could use another cup of coffee,” he said instead.

Small talk over the minimountain of chocolate chip cookies was companionable, and when he stood to leave the next time, she wanted to stop him. Wanted to feel his big, protective arms around her again, making her forget the horrible nightmares that disturbed her sleep. Wanted him to prove to her that the guilt and remorse she’d heaped onto her shoulders all these years truly was misplaced.

“Wait,” she said.

He’d made a stack of cookies while they talked, and now he was straightening a teetering column. “For what?”

He sounded pleased, even happy, that she’d asked him to stay. “Let me pack a few of these for you to take home.”

Grinning, he said, “Do you do this often?” Wade gestured toward the cookie pile.

“Only when I’m upset. Baking…soothes me.”

Wade chuckled softly. “From the looks of things, something had you real upset.”

She was stuffing a small grocery sack with sweet treats when he bent to kiss her temple—the one with the scar. Her hands froze.

“Beautiful,” he rasped.

Her heart raced as she clutched the bag to her.

“Well,” Wade said, “guess I’d better get home.” He hugged her and a cookie crumbled between them. He kissed the top of her head. “Lock up tight when I’m gone, you hear?”

Nodding against his hard chest, she wondered about the myriad of sensations spiraling through her. What she felt with Wade was nothing like what she’d felt all those other times. If that had been love, what was this?

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