Linda Warren - Deep In The Heart Of Texas

After a moment, he asked, “Why is my name so important?”

“Because you were willing to die for me back there with Blackhawk. A stranger. I don’t want you to be a stranger anymore. I need to know your name for my own peace of mind.”

His name. How long had it been since he’d heard his own name? Years. He didn’t want to tell her his name, but he could feel the words surging to his throat against his will. She was making him feel things he shouldn’t feel, and he could no longer deny it. He didn’t know what the morning was going to bring and, God help him, he wanted to hear his name on her lips.

Before he could say anything, she said, “It starts with a J, doesn’t it?”

The gun, he thought. She’d seen the initials on the gun.

“John, Joshua, Jeremy,” she said, guessing. “Jeffery, Joseph, Judd—no, none of those are right. Let’s see…”

“Jacob.”

Her eyes swung to his. He’d said his name. Jacob. Yes. Strong. Leader. It fit him perfectly.

“Jacob,” she said in a breathless sort of wonder. “Jacob.”

The word was like a haunting melody to his ears. All he could think about was catching the sound falling from her lips, catching them with his own. The feeling threw him. He hadn’t experienced anything like this in so long that for a moment he felt helpless and vulnerable. He immediately put the skids on emotions that were threatening to overtake him.

Miranda watched his face and saw his troubled thoughts reflected there, but she felt elated that he trusted her enough to share his name. She had to know more.

She rose to her knees and crawled to his side, sitting back on her heels. “Jacob what?”

He didn’t say a word.

“Okay,” she said. “It begins with a C, so…”

She felt the heat of his dark eyes. “Didn’t you hear anything I said when we started this journey? No questions. Remember?” He had that impatient note in his voice again, but it didn’t stop her.

“Yes,” she answered. “But we’ve gone way beyond that. We’re partners and friends now, aren’t we, Jacob?”

God, the way she said his name was beginning to get to him. So many emotions broke through inside him. He could actually feel a sense of release, an opening around his heart. He wanted to talk, to be her partner, her friend, just as she’d said.

“Yes,” he murmured.

“And friends share things, secrets. Whatever you tell me, I would never tell anyone else.”

Somehow he knew that she wouldn’t.

She waited for him to speak. He didn’t, so she prompted, “Jacob…?”

His eyes caught hers in the darkness. “Culver,” he answered. “It’s Jacob Culver.”

“What did Jacob Culver do for a living?”

“Detective,” he answered without hesitation. “I worked homicide for a Houston division.”

“I knew it had to be something like that,” she said, reaching out to touch his shoulder. “The holster and all, plus you’re very good with guns.”

“I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

She frowned. “What?”

“Touch me.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s been…years since a woman has done that.”

There was a warning in his voice and she didn’t miss it. She just didn’t understand it. “Are you trying to frighten me?”

“Just telling you the truth.”

“No,” she said. “For some reason you’re trying to scare me. You’ve been doing that ever since you carried me out of that place.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “This isn’t a fairy tale. It’s life and it’s not pretty. The sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be.”

Was he right? At the moment life had dealt her a dreadful hand, but she refused to allow that to overwhelm her. At least she’d met Jacob, and that was a good thing.

“No,” she told him. “Life’s not all bad, and neither are you.”

“Really?” he snorted. “You don’t know me, lady. I’m hiding in these hills for a reason.” He paused, then said, “I’m wanted for the murders of my wife and son.”

The words should have shocked her, but somehow they didn’t. Instinctively she knew he’d never hurt anyone.

She answered immediately. “I told you earlier that I know the person you are inside, and you could never kill anyone intentionally.”

He blinked, astonished by her words. No one believed in him that much, not his family, his friends, not even his own brother. Everyone assumed he was guilty because he and Sheila had been having problems. Now this woman, whom he barely knew, was professing his innocence. It took him a moment to collect himself.

Miranda saw that he was coming to grips with his emotions, and she gave him time.

Finally she said, “Tell me about your wife.”

He didn’t even hesitate. It seemed natural to talk to someone who had such faith in him. “Sheila was a lot like you,” he said, then stopped abruptly.

Those were not the words she wanted to hear, but she couldn’t help wondering what it was about her that reminded him of his wife. She didn’t have to wait for the answer.

“She was a rich man’s daughter—his only daughter—and she was used to getting anything she wanted. I was working two jobs when I met her because I was putting my brother, Lucas, through law school. Our parents died when I was twenty and he was fifteen, so I’d been taking care of him for a few years. I had a security job at nights. I worked for anyone who needed protection. Sheila’s dad hired me and several other guards for one of his big parties. I must have caught Sheila’s eye, because she kept pestering me all evening, bringing me drinks and flirting. I told her I couldn’t drink, that I was working, but Sheila never learned the meaning of the word no.”

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