box onto the butcher-block counter. "Since she's no longer here to share some home truths, I have the feeling she'd want someone to be honest enough to tell you that you look like hell."
"Well, thank you." She snatched a carton of orange juice from the box, flung open the refrigerator door with more force than necessary, and slammed it down onto a glass shelf. "But for your information, I've already heard that today."
"From Titania."
"And Sissy at the market." She began putting the eggs into the compartment in the door. "And Oscar at the filling station. And Doro Hemphill at the bank. And let's not forget Betty Lovejoy at the pharmacy," she said between clenched teeth.
Though, granted, only Titania had been as blunt as Zach.
"Damn." She glared down at the bright yellow yolk and gooey egg white streaming over her hand.
"No wonder it broke, the way you were slamming those poor eggs down like you've got a personal grudge against the chicken who laid them."
He pulled a roll of paper towels from the box, tore off a handful, stuck them beneath the faucet, and took hold of her hand.
She snatched it back. "I can do that."
"Fine." He held up both his hands and backed off. "And at the risk of getting my head bit off here, may I suggest that maybe it might be a good idea if you sat down and let me finish putting the rest of this stuff away?"
"I don't need your help. Believe it or not, there are people—important people all over the world—who consider me more than a little competent."
"From what Lucie told me about your comet ride through the Wingate Hotel chain, I've not a single doubt of that. But in case you haven't noticed, sweetheart, you seem to have misplaced your magic bracelets."
She was too thin and too pale, and way too on edge. But obviously struggling her damnedest for control, a feeling Zach knew all too well.
Emotions he couldn't quite pin down stirred. Deeper than lust, and, he feared, more dangerous than desire, they were something he'd have to think about later.
"Look." He took hold of her shoulders and used his superior strength to walk her over to one of the kitchen chairs. "Believe it or not, I know what you're feeling."
She tossed up her chin. "You do not."
Interesting. Pink flags were suddenly flying in her cheeks, suggesting that they might not be talking about the same thing. He wondered if she was remembering back to another time when he'd taken hold of her shoulders. To gently push her away.
"Actually, I do."
After practically shoving her down onto the woven cane seat, he picked up the cardboard carton from the counter where she'd put it while scrubbing the egg gunk off her hands. Her raggedy nails didn't fit with her slender but competent-looking hands. He wondered if they'd been broken off in the bombing.
Or if she'd bitten them that way afterward.
"I've been in that place where you are now," he said mildly. "After your world suddenly falls out from under you, and up becomes down, down up, and you're not sure if your life's ever going to be normal again." He finished putting the rest of the unbroken eggs away. "Whether you're ever going to be normal again."
He could tell she was surprised by that announcement. Even more surprised that he'd shared it with her.
And hell, didn't that make two of them?
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Fine. Not that keeping it bottled up seems to be working real well for you."
"It's hard."
"Sure it is. But there's a saying drilled into us SEALs during BUD/S training. 'The only easy day was yesterday.' "
Her eyes had that wounded look again as they reluctantly lifted to his in a way designed to make any guy with blood still stirring in his veins want to leap tall buildings for her. The irony was, there'd been a time when he would have tried to do exactly that without a second thought.
But that was in another life.
"So, if you know how it feels, how did you get past it?"
"Beats me."
Okay, this was now getting way too personal for comfort.
He
"Well, thank you." She snatched a carton of orange juice from the box, flung open the refrigerator door with more force than necessary, and slammed it down onto a glass shelf. "But for your information, I've already heard that today."
"From Titania."
"And Sissy at the market." She began putting the eggs into the compartment in the door. "And Oscar at the filling station. And Doro Hemphill at the bank. And let's not forget Betty Lovejoy at the pharmacy," she said between clenched teeth.
Though, granted, only Titania had been as blunt as Zach.
"Damn." She glared down at the bright yellow yolk and gooey egg white streaming over her hand.
"No wonder it broke, the way you were slamming those poor eggs down like you've got a personal grudge against the chicken who laid them."
He pulled a roll of paper towels from the box, tore off a handful, stuck them beneath the faucet, and took hold of her hand.
She snatched it back. "I can do that."
"Fine." He held up both his hands and backed off. "And at the risk of getting my head bit off here, may I suggest that maybe it might be a good idea if you sat down and let me finish putting the rest of this stuff away?"
"I don't need your help. Believe it or not, there are people—important people all over the world—who consider me more than a little competent."
"From what Lucie told me about your comet ride through the Wingate Hotel chain, I've not a single doubt of that. But in case you haven't noticed, sweetheart, you seem to have misplaced your magic bracelets."
She was too thin and too pale, and way too on edge. But obviously struggling her damnedest for control, a feeling Zach knew all too well.
Emotions he couldn't quite pin down stirred. Deeper than lust, and, he feared, more dangerous than desire, they were something he'd have to think about later.
"Look." He took hold of her shoulders and used his superior strength to walk her over to one of the kitchen chairs. "Believe it or not, I know what you're feeling."
She tossed up her chin. "You do not."
Interesting. Pink flags were suddenly flying in her cheeks, suggesting that they might not be talking about the same thing. He wondered if she was remembering back to another time when he'd taken hold of her shoulders. To gently push her away.
"Actually, I do."
After practically shoving her down onto the woven cane seat, he picked up the cardboard carton from the counter where she'd put it while scrubbing the egg gunk off her hands. Her raggedy nails didn't fit with her slender but competent-looking hands. He wondered if they'd been broken off in the bombing.
Or if she'd bitten them that way afterward.
"I've been in that place where you are now," he said mildly. "After your world suddenly falls out from under you, and up becomes down, down up, and you're not sure if your life's ever going to be normal again." He finished putting the rest of the unbroken eggs away. "Whether you're ever going to be normal again."
He could tell she was surprised by that announcement. Even more surprised that he'd shared it with her.
And hell, didn't that make two of them?
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Fine. Not that keeping it bottled up seems to be working real well for you."
"It's hard."
"Sure it is. But there's a saying drilled into us SEALs during BUD/S training. 'The only easy day was yesterday.' "
Her eyes had that wounded look again as they reluctantly lifted to his in a way designed to make any guy with blood still stirring in his veins want to leap tall buildings for her. The irony was, there'd been a time when he would have tried to do exactly that without a second thought.
But that was in another life.
"So, if you know how it feels, how did you get past it?"
"Beats me."
Okay, this was now getting way too personal for comfort.
He
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