A/N: I think after a year (oops) that it's about time to get Myles down and to stop Hannah's laughter. Actually, work on getting a novel to the point of being published took precedence. Hopefully, it won't be long and I'll be able to announce where you can purchase some of my original fiction and romantic suspense novels. Until then…on with the show!!

Chapter 45

Water funned down his pant leg from his ankle to his hip, but Myles no longer felt the chill of the rain. Hannah's sweet laughter warmed him in ways he had no business thinking in his current situation. Maybe it was the rush of blood to his head or maybe he was feeling the effects of the cold. Either way, he desperately wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless. Oh, how he missed her!

Shaking himself mentally, Myles stopped himself just before he reached for her. Forcing his gaze away, he tried to collect his muddled thoughts. Decorum had always been one of his strongest traits regardless of the situation, but today was different. He didn't want to be the same refined New Englander he'd always portrayed. For once, he just wanted to let go.

"You okay?"

Her question startled him. He hadn't realized he'd made a noise but her laughter ceased, leaving the room eerily quiet except for the patter of rain on the roof. Powerless to stop himself, his eyes returned to her face, tracing her features as if it had been years since he'd last seen her instead of just moments.

"Myles?" She stepped forward, hands outstretched and searching. Worry replaced her previous mirth. "Myles! Say something! Are you okay?"

A strong urge to make her smile again tugged at him. Unable to fight it, he quipped, "Just hanging around."

His flippant remark had quite the opposite effect on the tall brunette. The sudden sag in her shoulders, the firm line of her mouth, and her stony countenance told him more than words could say. He'd hurt her. But he'd do anything to make it up to her.

If only Hannah would give him that chance.

"Just --" Her voice cracked with raw emotion. Gone was the confidence that he'd heard so many times while they were trapped in the rubble and on the run. She inhaled deeply, folding her white cane and stuffing it into the back pocket of her jeans. Only the briefest quiver of her hands belied the steadiness of her tone when she spoke again. "Just describe what we're up against here."

"Hannah –" His voice cut off in a strangled groan when she touched him. The heat of her hand through the material of his pants tortured his already fragile libido and he didn't know how much more he could handle. Her hands never stopped moving along his legs as she tested the rope at various places.

"Don't worry, Myles." His nails bit into his palms as he struggled to keep from reaching for her while her hands feathered their way up his thighs. "As soon as I get you down, I'll be out of your hair."

Out of your hair. Her words echoed through the fog in his head until he finally comprehended the meaning. NO! He wouldn't lose her again. He couldn't.

"Hannah?" He reached for her, but she twisted out of his grasp.

"The rope seems to be tangled higher up than I can reach." She seemed to be totally ignoring him, concentrating only on the task at hand. Her feathering touch made him glad she couldn't see, because her face hovered mere inches from his belt buckle and the distinct evidence of what she was doing to him.

Dear Lord, the woman would be the death of him.

# # #

Dear God, give me strength. Hannah prayed, and proceeded to test that willpower as she ran her hands across the sinewy muscles of his thighs. She never before praised her inability to see, but she did at this moment while she tried not to think of the fact her nose was just inches from his fly. Being able to see would have only made it worse.

"The rope's too tight." She groaned inwardly, hoping her voice didn't sound as husky to him as it did to her. "Maybe if I get a chair you can use it to get enough leverage to loosen it up."

"Not enough to free my leg."

Hannah stepped back, her hands going to her hips. "I see," she mumbled, looking upward as if she really could see the problem before her. "Well, I could call the fire department, but I figured you wouldn't want this getting back to the guys, and of course, Webber would just love to witness this."

Her mention of Myles' neighbor and nemesis had the desired effect. "No! No, Webber." His quick response would have been almost comical if not for the situation. "There's a chair in the hall beside the buffet."

"Great." Turning to hide her triumphant smile, she snatched the cane out of her pocket and flipped it open with a flick of her wrist. "How about a sharp knife?" she questioned on the way to the door.

"Knife?"

"You know, a tool, usually with a sharp blade and a handle, used for cutting, slicing. Some people even use it to spread butter or jam on bread." She was trying to keep things lighthearted to keep her mind off of the man across the room. The man who held her heart in his hands and didn't even know it.

"I know what a knife is, Hannah. Why do you need one?"

"Like you said." She managed a flippant reply, turning at the door. With one hand on the solid doorframe, she felt a little steadier. "You won't be able to get enough leverage to free yourself but it should be enough to loosen the rope enough to where I can cut you down."

"Oh."

Hannah waited for him to continue but was met with only silence. "So?"

"So what?"

She shook her head. This man was more exasperating than she remembered. "Where can I find a sharp knife to cut the rope?"

"In the utility drawer?"

She ran her fingers through her wet hair wanting to laugh. "And where's that?"

"In the kitchen." Panic set in when she realized he wasn't being purposefully obstinate. His words had begun to slur from the cold and perhaps even his upside-down posture.

"Myles, work with me here." Her voice as assertive as she could make it under the circumstances, she beseeched him. "I need you to be my eyes, Myles. Do you hear me?" She pounded her cane against the hardwood floor hoping the sudden noise would get his attention. "Where's the kitchen?"

"Down the hallway to the left through the swinging doors."

Good, that was definitive enough. "Now where's the utility drawer?"

"In the kitchen."

He really could be cute semi-conscious. Her heart squeezed again and she tried to shake it off. "Myles, darling. Where in the kitchen is the utility drawer?"

"Beside the stove."

"Good. I'll be right back," she told him, hoping it would be that simple.