Chapter 8

Rooney woke with a start and jackknifed up in bed. A man's voice echoed in the room, but what room and what man? Confusion stormed her brain and yet, she instinctively knew trouble had invaded her sleep. A thin stream of light filtered in from another room and ribbons of moonlight danced across a coverlet in a nearby bed.

"Take cover! Get down! No…no!"

Willing her trembling legs to move, she slid from her bed and groped her way to the one near the window. Awareness came in short bursts. Stephan. Thrashing and moaning while caught in the throes of a nightmare.

Easing onto the bed beside him, she grabbed him and gave his shoulder a gentle shake. "Stephan, wake up. You're having a nightmare. It's all right; I'm here. Wake up, Stephan, wake up."

Without warning, strong arms gripped her shoulders and flipped her onto her back. Legs made of steel pinned her beneath a rock-hard body. She felt the cold steel of a blade at her throat. She didn't dare move a muscle after looking into those glassy, arctic eyes. He didn't know her, didn't seem to be tethered to any sort of reality at the moment.

She had no experience with this type of occurrence. He couldn't be dead even though he seemed to be living in some type of ghost-land. Dead people didn't hold a knife to one's throat. Yet, she'd never encountered a warm-blooded human who'd ever held her at knife-point.

Ripples of raw fear peddled down her spine and spread outward to every limb. "Stephan," she whispered. "It's me, Rooney. Please don't hurt me."

A glimmer of recognition flitted through his eyes, the cold stare dissolving into a semblance of normalcy.

"Rooney?"

"Yes, you know me. I'm not here to hurt you."

As if clutching a hot branding iron, he tossed the knife across the room, his expression morphing from confusion to shame. "Oh, my God, I didn't mean to—"

"It's all right. You were having a nightmare. I shouldn't have…."

"Climbed into bed with me?"

"Something like that, yes. I didn't know what to do."

He drew a deep breath. "I'm so sorry. I should have warned you I have them a lot lately. Did I hurt you? I mean the knife was at—"

"No, no, I'm okay. You didn't puncture the skin, I don't think."

He tilted his head to the side and took his time studying her neck. "Thank God. No blood. Rooney, I'm sorry. You don't know how sorry."

"Really, it's all right. I'm so glad you're back."

"Back?"

"You didn't know me, didn't know what was happening. Your eyes were…well, it doesn't matter now. You're here with me again and that's all that matters."

His words came measured and throaty. "I'm here with you and you feel really good beneath me. Soft, warm and…."

His lips hovered over hers, so close their breaths mingled. She wanted him to kiss her, wanted it with every cell in her body. What kind of sickness had she come down with now? The man just held a knife to her throat and now her body hummed with unrestrained desire. She had to extract herself from this situation, from his bed, from the overwhelming emotions of the sheltering strength she felt in his arms.

Their lips met, the kiss languid, slow and oh, so sweet. She didn't want it to end. Ever. She never imagined one kiss could be so enthralling or that it could awaken such heat and wanting in her.

Time stood suspended, somewhere on the crest of an alternate plane. The moment he pulled his mouth from hers, she felt a terrible loss. No, no, this can't be happening, shouldn't be happening. She didn't know this man, never dreamed anyone breathing the same air could worm his way into her heart so soon. But it had happened.

He looked into her eyes, his mouth a fraction of an inch from hers. "Don't tell me you didn't feel that?"

"I don't know what's wrong with me. Call it stress, the unbelievable situation we've been thrust into. I mean, ghosts and assassins, guns and-and knives. I don't know what I felt. Correction: I don't know why—"

"You felt it, the same as I did. I want you, Rooney, like I've never wanted a woman before. It has nothing to do with ghosts and assassins. I felt it the moment you got out of your car."

"It? That word has no meaning when you think about it."

"All right. Let me try to nail it down." A furrow creased his brow as if drawing his words from a deep well. "Your smile. Damn, you have a killer smile, and a big heart. I knew that right off. Those baby blues…fathomless and haunting. One day, I want to know what's behind that sadness. I'm guessing the sick sister you talked about has something to do with it."

"Vanessa."

"Yes, but there's more, and normally, I wouldn't give a damn. Now I'm wondering why I do, give a great big damn."

She stared at him throughout his spiel, and now while he paused. She didn't know what to say. No one had ever said those beautiful things to her.

Without taking his eyes from hers, he continued. "This part isn't going to come out right; I just know it, but you have an inner strength beneath all that femininity. You're gutsy, determined, and loyal. You have a penchant for helping the downtrodden or troubled souls. I can't think of better traits." Sucking in a deep breath and releasing it, he tipped his head to the side. "And…and I know you want me too."

"I don't do that. I mean I've never, ever slept with someone on the first date. I don't believe in it."

"First date? We're way past high school, Rooney, and this isn't a game here. We're hiding out from hit men, for Christ sake, staying one step ahead of them, one fraction of a step ahead of them. "

"What does all that mean, what you just said about high school and games?"

"It means there's only this moment. What matters is now, not what you did before in any given situation. Tomorrow is so overrated."

"You think I don't know this isn't a game? You talk about tomorrow, and you think I don't know we could be dead?"

"I'm happy you understand the situation. So, if you want me and I want you, what's to think….Oh, never mind. I feel as if I'm in high school again, talking you into something you don't want."

He rose up on his elbows, the weight of his body both a relief and a feeling of emptiness. She could breathe better but her mind and body screamed don't leave me. "Stay," she said, tugging on his shoulder. She wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled him close. "I do want you. Kiss me again. Make me forget about today and everything that's happened, help me remember tomorrow is overrated."

He trailed kisses down her neck and then the exposed skin near the vee of her t-shirt, his t-shirt in reality. Without conscious thought she removed the thin barrier between, and he removed his boxers at the same time.

She reveled in the wonder of his hard chest meeting her soft breasts, an exhilarating feeling that fed her hunger for this man. Where before his kiss was languid and soft, now his kiss was demanding and bold, spurning her on to match this unbridled passion between them.

She explored every inch of his well-muscled body in the same way he seemed to cherish hers, with infinite patience and a gentle love she'd never experienced before.

At last they were joined, their bodies one, their hearts beating in sync. He took her to heights she only dreamed about, sent her soaring through the stars and then crashing to earth like a fiery meteor.

In the aftermath, he held her in his arms, their breaths coming fast and shallow. "That was incredible, Rooney." Kissing her forehead, he whispered, "My little ghost- chaser."

"I hate to admit it, but that was, as you said, quite incredible. For the record, I'm not a ghost-chaser. I told you I don't even believe in ghosts, remember?"

"I remember. I was just—"

"Teasing me again."

"Yes." He leaned over her. "I don't ever want you to think of me as an ass hat again."

"After what just happened, I'd have a hard time pinning you with that."

"Good. Stay with me for what's left of the night. I'm too exhausted to have another nightmare. I promise."

She ran her fingers down his cheek. "Go to sleep, Stephan. I'll be right here if you do."

Moments later, she listened to his deep, rhythmic breathing and knew he was sound asleep. She relived every moment of their lovemaking, marveling at the unexpected passion between them, from the perfect fit of their bodies to the indescribable ecstasy of their kisses.

In her sleep-deprived brain, she wondered what tomorrow would bring. Would he be like so many men, discarding what happened between them as a casual night of sex, worse, call it a one-night stand and nothing more?

Go to sleep, Rooney. You can't take back what happened tonight and you can't change what happens tomorrow.

Tomorrow is overrated, anyway.

* * *

A strong aroma of coffee nudged Rooney awake. She sat up in bed and stretched her arms over her head, and then returned the smile from the man she shared the bed with last night.

Stephan set the coffee down on the nightstand along with several choices of donuts—a glazed, one with chocolate frosting and one with white. "Morning, gorgeous," he said. She knew by his smile and the tone of his voice he wasn't anything like most men from her past. He didn't think their night of passion was fueled by convenience or lurking danger, and he wouldn't treat her as a one-night-stand. Ironically, she wasn't surprised. In the short time she'd known Stephan, a very short time, he wasn't like most men.

This morning, a clean pair of jeans hugged his muscled legs and a short-sleeved plaid shirt clung to his ripped torso. Over the shirt, a camouflage jacket touched the top of his thighs and fit his body to perfection.

"Good morning." She selected the glazed donut, took a bite and then relished the fresh, hot coffee trickling down her throat. "Thanks. I'm in desperate need of coffee and the donut is delicious."

"You're welcome." Tossing a flowered bag with two handles onto the bed, he added, "I picked these up for you this morning. I know you wanted to pick out your clothing but thought these would come in handy until you do."

She wiped her fingers on a nearby napkin and then rifled through the bag, pulling out a new pair of Capri jeans and a white tank top with spaghetti straps. "They're lovely. I couldn't have done better." She nodded toward her folded clothing on the bureau. "I think I can toss those out."

Stephan eased onto the bed across from her and took a sip of his coffee. "Don't know how we'd launder them right now anyway."

She changed the subject and stepped lightly into what was on her mind. "Stephan, do you want to talk about last night?"

"I have no regrets if that's what you mean. Do you?"

"Oh, I wasn't talking about that." She shook her head. "I have no regrets, none."

Blue eyes sparkled. "Good. I thought you might toss the coffee in my face this morning after—"

"Not a chance. I'm a big girl, could have said no. I meant, do you want to talk about the nightmares or what happened when you were in the army?"

A bland look overtook his face, an indefinable expression she hadn't seen before. "No, bad enough the visions invade my sleep. I push them away during the day. That's how I must live now."

"Until you talk about what happened, or come to terms with it, you have no future, or a past to be truthful. Blocking everything out doesn't work." She blew a snort. "That's not living."

"Let it go, Rooney."

Before she could respond, her cell phone rang. She picked it up and looked at the number. "I have to answer this. I have a feeling if I look at my missed calls there will be a gazillion from Vi."

He dug into the pocket of his jeans and tossed a black object onto the bed beside her. "I almost forgot. Here's a new disposable cell phone, untraceable. I need to call the lawyer so I'll step out while you call your sister."

"I'll get you the lawyer's number." Slipping from bed, she rolled her eyes, crossed the room and dug into her purse for the legal documents. "But I still don't understand how anyone could bug either your phone or mine."

"I already told you. You left your phone on the front seat of the car and who knows if they'd poked around the farm, and my cell, before today."

"Paranoia and over the top cloak and dagger if you ask me." She handed the papers to him. "The lawyer's number is in here, last page." Their eyes met, her words staggered. "You're-you're not leaving again, are-are you?"

"Hell, no. I'll be right outside. When you're done talking to your sister and you've showered and changed into your new clothes, let's hit the town, do some shopping and get some real food."

"Sounds good. I won't be long."

Stephan rose from the bed and walked to the door. "Take your time." He turned and caught her gaze. "Rooney?"

"Yes."

"Remember what I said, you're safe with me but only if you do what I say."

"All right, I will, and I believe you about the safety thing," she said and meant every word.

She called Vi on her old cell phone, vowing to destroy it when their conversation ended. Her sister might not answer an unknown number and there wasn't much sense in giving her more to worry about.