Out Of The Shadows

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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