Disclaimer: The characters and settings we all know and love belong to Janet Evanovich. The plot, such as it is, and anyone you don't recognize belongs to me. Written strictly for enjoyment – so enjoy!
A/N: Sorry so short—the next one will be longer, I promise. I was trying to write while my husband and father-in-law were watching "We Were Soldiers". It was very hard to do this section while guns, blood and gore were going on full volume! LOL! Anyway, I especially want to thank those of you who've sent reviews. I read them all religiously; they keep me 'up' for writing. I'd like to answer them all individually but I never have enough time. So, THANKS!
Chapter 6
He paused long enough to get us out of the elevator on the fourth floor, and carried me to the door of 4B.
"You can put me down now. There's carpet here."
He let my feet down but kept his arm around me, opening the door one-handed and ushering me in ahead of him. It was the same apartment I'd been in before. I took a few more steps and dropped my stuff on the tiled floor of the kitchen area.
"Is this apartment always empty now, or do you keep kicking someone out?"
"We use it for temporary housing. New guys coming in, people visiting, sometimes as a safe house."
His tone of voice had changed, and I turned to look at him. He advanced on me and the expression on his face made me feel the need to retreat. I frowned in confusion. What was wrong?
"Where are you hurt?"
"What?" How could he possibly know?
"There's a bruise under your jaw, you're wearing my shirt, and your purse left blood on the kitchen floor upstairs. Now, where are you hurt?"
I knew better than try to hedge with Ranger. I sighed and turned slightly, lifting the bottom of the shirt to show him the bandage.
"It isn't serious. It's only a graze."
He wasn't satisfied until he checked under the gauze pad himself. He smoothed the tape back down with gentle fingers, which tickled, and his lips quirked when I squirmed.
"It seems to me that you left something out of your story," he said a moment later when he tilted my head up to look at the forming bruise.
"Um…the guy had a gun?"
He kissed the bruise gently, then shifted closer and kissed my neck. My arms went around his waist automatically, pulling his body closer to mine. His arms encircled me, holding me tightly but careful of my wound. We stood like that for several long minutes.
"I missed you," he whispered as he pressed his face against my hair. "I realized after I was in the air that if I'd asked, you'd have come with me to Miami. You'd have helped me try to find Julia. I'm sorry I didn't think to ask."
"It's okay. You were only thinking of Julia. I understand."
His arms tightened until I almost couldn't breathe. Something was still wrong, and I had no idea what. All I could do was hold him and wait for him to tell me.
"They were going to kill her. They wanted to make it look like I'd kidnapped her, then kill her in front of the bonds office. If you hadn't been there--"
"But I was." I didn't even want him to continue that thought. "Julia's okay. She's incredibly smart, thinks on her feet, and she's beautiful. She's a lot like you."
I felt him sigh, and his arms relaxed as some of the tension left him. His lips were seeking the skin of my cheek, nuzzling at my hair. "It scares me sometimes, how close I came to never meeting you," he whispered softly.
"What?"
He drew back slightly, enough for me to see his face, his eyes on mine. "That first day, when Connie asked me to meet you and get you started skip tracing… I was busy; there were three places I needed to be that afternoon and nowhere near enough time. I almost blew it off. But I owed Connie, so I kept the appointment. I'm so glad I did."
"Me, too," I said, smiling into his eyes. "I can't imagine the past few years without you."
He kissed me then, gently at first, then with growing heat. Slow, deep kisses filled with such tenderness that I couldn't help but melt against him.
I don't remember moving, or how or when our clothes disappeared. The next thing I knew Ranger was lifting me onto the bed, following me down, covering my body with his own.
His kisses were tender, his touch soft and gentle. I realized that this wasn't about pleasure – it was about love. Expressed not with words but with tender kisses and caresses, closeness and caring.
It wasn't the first time I'd glimpsed Ranger's emotions through his actions, but it was the most poignant. His tenderness had me in tears by the time we found release. Neither one of us spoke, but he held me close as we drifted into sleep.