Chapter 48

When Myles bought the house, he'd been disappointed in the size of the master bathroom. He planned renovations to enlarge it by taking over part of the room next door, but he'd never gotten around to it. Now with Hannah there, the room felt like the Taj Mahal.

Stopping only briefly in his room for dry clothes for both of them, he'd kept her tucked to his side. But as soon as they entered the bathroom, she twisted out of his reach with orders for him to sit.

"Where's your towels?" Already moving away, she left him feeling instantly lonely and more than a little confused.

Missing her warmth, he moved to step around her. "I'll get them." But her arm swung out to stop him before he made more than a few steps.

"Stay!"

His eyes widened at the sharpness in her tone. Oh, she'd snapped at him before, but he never remembered her being this assertive. Not even when they were trapped under all that rubble and he had to rely on her for their survival. She deferred to him as the lead agent for direction during their attempts at rescue.

Today, there was something different about her. He should have noticed it earlier but he was just now getting his equilibrium back from being upside down for so long and took a moment to really look at her.

Though wet, her long brown hair hung almost to her waist now. The bangs she used to wear so delicately fanned across her forehead were now held back by a barrette. The dark bruise that masked her face like a raccoon when he'd last seen her had long since disappeared. Her smooth cheeks showed nary a blemish from the many shards of glass and debris that had torn at her skin. She was perfect. Better than even his dreams remembered her.

But she wasn't a dream. She was real, and definitely different than she was before. If only he could figure out what it was.

"Where?" she repeated, and then after a brief pause and a cheeky smile added, "and don't point. It's rude."

When he realized that was exactly what he was about to do, Myles clamped his arms to his side. Idiot, she can't see you point, he reminded himself, and then shaking his head, replied, "Bottom cabinet to your left."

Leaning against the wall next to the door, he watched her dig in the cabinet he'd indicated. A myriad of emotions -- most predominantly longing -- filled his soul. The old saying 'you don't know what you've got until it's gone' sure fit this situation.

"You sure you want a shower?" Two fluffy blue towels under one arm and the other outstretched, Hannah made her way around the room. Her fingers brushed across the shower door and down the handle before moving to the long oak towel rod on the wall between the shower and the sink and finally to the granite countertop of the vanity. "A warm soak in the tub might do you good."

Instead, flashes of Hannah in the tub assaulted his mind at her suggestion and he found himself growing warmer than any soak could manage. He forced himself to look away, unable to keep his thoughts in order when his gaze just wanted to dance over the soft curves of her wet slacks.

He drew in a shaky breath and barely managed to growl, "Leland men do not soak in the tub."

"You sure, Harvard?" A teasing lilt in her voice had him turning back. "I'd have figured with an old fashioned claw foot like this, you'd be a bubble bath on Sunday's kind of guy."

Claw foot? Even with the lack of sleep and the booze he'd been downing nightly in order to drown the memories of her, he couldn't stop the investigator in him from coming out. How did she know it was a claw foot tub? It wasn't as if the houses in this neighborhood were old enough that claw foot tubs were standard.

Only then did her actions penetrate his thoughts.

Her delicate hands trailed across the edge of the tub like a mother caressing her newborn baby. She'd done the same with the shower and sink earlier. Occasionally she'd move her hands together, spanning her fingers apart as if she was measuring the distance.

He watched in amazement as she did the same thing with her feet, positioning them next to one of the fixtures in the bathroom and then stepping away. Almost as if she was creating a mental map of the room, acclimating herself to the things in it until she moved around like she did it every day.

When she opened the shower door and leaned inside and another rather naughty image flashed into his mind, Myles suddenly felt as if the walls were closing in on him. "Uh, you should shower first," he offered, backing toward the door. "I can wait in the bedroom." Truth was he could use the guest room, but he didn't want to be that far from her, despite what she did to his libido. He wouldn't risk losing his chance with her again.

"No!"

Myles stopped abruptly in his retreat and watched her approach. He reached out and cupped her soft cheek in his hand, his breath catching when Hannah turned her lips into his palm. He vowed then never to let her go again.

"You were in the rain much longer than I was," she told him, her voice filled with concern. "You should go first."

He wondered if she knew what she was doing to him as her fingers trailed down his chest opening the buttons of his oxford shirt. Where her fingertips accidentally touched his skin, she left a trail of fire straight to his center. Unable to control himself, he tugged her into his arms and brushed his lips across her brow.

A small yelp of surprise was her only response before her hands slid around his waist and she allowed him to pull her closer. She tilted her face up to him and everything else around them faded away.

"How about a compromise?" he asked against her lips before he claimed them.