Seaside Avenue (Cedar Cove #7)(90)

She told him what she knew but the “why” of it remained a mystery.

“They were after Teri,” she explained.

“Yes,” he said. “They botched the kidnapping when they took you by mistake.”

She’d worked out that this whole mess had to do with Bobby, but what the thugs had hoped to achieve she could only speculate. Right now, none of that mattered. Because Bruce was with her.

He continued to hold her, murmuring encouragement as they stood in that drafty hallway.

It suddenly occurred to Rachel to ask, “How come you’re here?”

“I phoned Teri. You weren’t answering your cell and I thought she might know where you were.” She felt his shrug. “I wanted to talk to you about…something, but this isn’t the time.”

“What did Teri say?”

“She said I should come to her house, and that was when I found out you’d been kidnapped. I wasn’t there more than a few minutes when James called and I heard you’d been set free. That’s also when I learned you’d be at the sheriff’s office, so I came straight here.”

As if he’d just realized he was holding her—and shouldn’t be—he abruptly dropped his arms.

All at once Rachel was cold again. She wanted Bruce to hold her. She needed him.

She took one small step toward him. “Please…”

He raised his arms, apparently to abide by her request, and then dropped them again. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” she asked.

He frowned. “You know why not. How would Nate feel if he could see us like this?”

She knew exactly how Nate would feel. He’d be angry and upset. Jealous. “You’re right,” she began, “but—”

“I have to talk to you, Rachel. That’s why I was looking for you this evening.”

“Talk to me…about what?”

He shook his head. “This isn’t the best time. We’ll talk later.”

She wanted to hear now. But if he wasn’t ready to speak, she was. “I need you, Bruce, no one else. Not Nate. You.”

“No,” he countered sharply, as though afraid to believe her. “You need a warm body. If Nate was here instead of me, you’d want him. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

Her eyes pleaded with him for understanding. Her own feelings were clear now and although she recognized that she loved Bruce and wanted to be with him, she couldn’t say any more. Not yet.

“Will you take me home?” she asked.

“I…” He hesitated.

“Please.”

He nodded, but the look on his face was one of wariness.

After speaking to the sheriff again, Rachel hurried out to the car, where Bruce was waiting for her. He had the heater on, and the warm air welcomed her, enveloped her. She’d been terrified, her sense of security destroyed. What she craved most—other than the comfort of those she loved—was to be surrounded by familiar things. She needed to be home.

The drive took place in almost total silence. When Bruce parked in front of the house, Rachel turned to him, hoping for some word, some gesture of reassurance. He kept the car running, letting her know he had no intention of going inside with her.

“I’ll walk you to your door,” he said curtly.

It was such an old-fashioned courtesy, and she was grateful for it. He took her house key from her trembling hands and unlocked the dead bolt and then, without looking at her, returned the key.

Before he could stop her, Rachel slipped her arms around his neck and raised her lips to his, showing how much she loved him, now and always.

He resisted, but not for long. His mouth opened to hers, his breath warm and moist. And for the first time since she’d been abducted, Rachel felt completely safe. Completely loved and cherished.

Bruce broke off the kiss before she was ready for it to end. “I’m glad you’re…all right,” he said, his voice husky.

“I am, too. Thank you for being here, thank you for bringing me home and thank you for that kiss,” she whispered.

He stared down at the concrete step and nodded. Then he turned, stumbling in his haste to leave.

Christie wondered why the attendant behind the admissions desk in HarrisonHospital’s ER was being such a grouch. All she knew was that she wouldn’t let some old biddy keep her out. She was going to see James, whatever it took.

“You cannot go inside those doors and if you persist,” the woman said, “I’ll call security.”

“Go right ahead.” Christie figured she had a good two to three minutes to find James before the rent-a-cop located her and tossed her out. A lot could happen in those minutes.

But just as she made her way toward the swinging doors, James stepped out. His face was battered—one eye had swollen completely shut, his cheekbone was badly bruised and he had a split lip. His arm was bandaged and in a sling.

“James!” She breathed his name in a rush of near-panic.

For a moment, Christie thought she was going to be sick. To her horror, tears flooded her eyes. She wasn’t the kind of person who wept easily, but she was weeping now.

“Oh, James…”

“Don’t touch me,” he said hoarsely when she came toward him. “I have two broken ribs and I’m afraid a hug would kill me.”