"I was the first to reach her."
"Oh, Nick."
He jolted when Erin took his hand, and he drew strength from her. "Rita was pinned inside. Unconscious. I knew right away she was in a bad way. Steph was in the back seat, crying. I remember thanking God they were alive. I thought-" His voice broke as the emotions burst through the barriers he'd erected and fortified.
Vaguely, he was aware of Erin squeezing his hand. The contact was warm. Reassuring. It had been a long time since he'd let anyone reassure him. He wasn't certain why her touch at that moment meant so much to him, but it did. He accepted it, absorbed her strength, trying not to think of the meaning behind his ability to do so.
"I managed to get Steph calmed down, but by the time I got to Rita…" His voice trailed off, but he took another deep breath and continued. "She never regained consciousness. She died in my arms."
Erin 's vision blurred as the tears built in her eyes. Mrs. Thornsberry hadn't told her that Nick had been the one to buy Rita the convertible. She hadn't realized he'd been shouldering so much guilt, and she felt his pain as if it were her own. The sheer power of it struck her like a fist, taking her breath away.
Nick stared straight ahead, his jaw set. She couldn't stand to see him that way. Hurting. Isolated. Blaming himself for something that wasn't his fault.
She didn't plan to reach for him. She knew that wasn't what either of them wanted. But on a deeper level, she knew that was exactly what they needed.
Turning to him, she pressed the backs of her fingers to his jaw. "That must have been devastating, Nick. I'm so sorry."
"It was tough for both Stephanie and me. But we've moved on. We're doing all right."
"Do you still love Rita?"
"Part of me will always love her. We had a lot of good years together. But when I close my eyes, I don't see her face anymore like I used to. I don't smell her perfume when I enter a room. I don't wake up in the night thinking she's lying beside me."
Erin couldn't imagine the pain of losing a soul mate. She'd always thought she'd loved Warren all those years ago. Only now, faced with this man's grief, did she realize they hadn't even come close.
It was clear to her Nick still loved his wife deeply and needed more time before he was ready to move into another relationship. Erin wasn't sure why that knowledge disturbed her so much. A relationship was the last thing she needed in her own life. It was the last thing Nick needed. Neither of them were ready. The realization should have relieved her, but it didn't.
"This might sound odd in light of everything you've gone through, Nick, but I think you're actually a very lucky man."
"How's that?"
"A lot of people go through life never knowing what love is. Somehow, I think that's the ultimate failure."
"Or maybe the ultimate failure is watching that love slip away when there's not a damn thing you can do about it."
"When it comes to matters of the heart, most times control doesn't enter the picture," she pointed out.
He cocked his head, his eyes darkening as his gaze racked over her. "If you want to keep your sanity, you keep your control no matter what."
Erin sensed they were no longer talking in generalities, but about the spark that threatened to burst into flames every time he looked at her, every time he spoke her name, every time he touched her.
"Maybe control isn't everything it's cracked up to be," she whispered.
Nick looked alarmed for an instant, then his mouth curved into an amused half smile. "I think those painkillers gave you a loose tongue, McNeal."
Embarrassment washed over her. She wasn't sure why she'd said it, but she didn't think it was the medication. Maybe because she wanted to deal with whatever was happening between them. Tonight seemed to be the night for clearing the air. The problem was she didn't think either of them were thinking about clearing the air at the moment. There were too many emotions. Too many ghosts. Too many sensations coming all at once, and she was as overloaded as a circuit breaker in an electrical storm.
"The doctor gave me a mild muscle relaxant, and for your information my head's as clear as a bell," she said.
"Well, that's a relief. I wouldn't want to take advantage of you if you were mentally incapacitated."
The words sent a nervous laugh tumbling out of her when she realized that was exactly how she felt every time she was with him. Mentally incapacitated-and bound and determined to make a mistake that would cost her greatly.
"You're eyes are dilated," he whispered.
"I don't think that's because of the muscle relaxers, either." Raising her hand, she touched his jaw with her fingertips.
He winced at the contact, his gaze darkening, intensifying. "Ah, McNeal, I should have known you liked to play with fire."
"Is that what I'm doing?"
"That's exactly what you're doing, and we're both loony to be even considering it. I don't think either of us needs to get burned." Intertwining their fingers, he slowly lowered her hand, then released her. "I'd better go before we both become pyromaniacs."
"Or risk spontaneous combustion," she whispered, but her words held no conviction. Maybe because the thought of that kind of heat intrigued her more than it should have. Maybe because she wasn't sure what she wanted. The only thing she knew for certain was that his touch was electric, and her body was conducting that electricity to every pleasure center in her brain.
Logic told her to get up and see him to the door. He was right. But they weren't just playing with fire; they were playing with a stick of dynamite with a short fuse that would leave them both in pieces if it exploded. Nothing but heartache would come from any of this.
But when his gaze met hers, she knew the race was done. She had no idea who'd won or lost. Oddly, she no longer cared. The only thing that mattered now were the short, dangerous inched separating them, and who was going to bridge the gap.
Leaning closer, Nick drew her to him with slow, agonizing deliberation. Erin let herself be guided, anticipation and dread locked in mortal combat. His lips touched hers with devastating gentleness. A warning blasted in her brain even as need twisted inside her. Then his mouth was warm and firm against hers as he coaxed her into submission.
He's in love with a memory.
The warning faded beneath the onslaught of pleasure. When he probed her mouth with his tongue, she opened, wanting more. Growling low in his throat, he went in deep, tasting her, devouring the last of her restraint.
Sensation assaulted every inch of her body. Erin felt lost. Afloat in a tiny raft in the midst of a raging sea. On more emotion, one more sensation, and she would be flung over the side, never to be found. But the dark, mysterious depths beckoned her, and she was helpless to resist, like a sea-weary sailor lured by a siren onto treacherous rocks that would send his hip to the bottom of the sea.
Nick cupped her face. Angling her head, he kissed her deeply, possessively. Erin reached for him, her arms encircling his neck. Her hand swept down the length of his back, feeling hard-as-steel muscle quivering with restraint.
"This isn't a very good idea," he murmured. "But you're so damn irresistible."
His voice barely reached her through the roar of blood in her ears. Before her befuddled brain could register a reply, his mouth swooped down again. He kissed her with ruthless skill until she was shaking and weak with desire. Never taking his mouth from hers, he lifted her, easing her more fully onto the sofa. Erin leaned back into the pillows, her every sense honed as he came down on top of her.
A gasp escaped her when he lay full length against her. Bracing himself with his arms to keep his weight from crushing her, he deepened the kiss, ravaging her mouth. She opened to him, her tongue warring with his. Lust rippled low in her belly when she felt his hardness against her hip. Heat spiked lower, burning her until she thought she could no longer bear it. Instinct took over. She opened her legs. He moved in, arching against her. Her body reacted with dizzying intensity. Her control fled. She felt intoxicated, as if she were high on some powerful drug she would never get enough of.