Lindsey seemed to digest his words with acceptance. “Thanks, Mark.”
His eyes narrowed. “For what?”
“For understanding. For not pushing me.” She blew out a breath. “For being you.”
Mark pulled her close, his chin resting on her head. “Don’t thank me,” he told her. “Just don’t stop being you.” He kissed her head. “All I want is a chance to see where we are going.” He pulled back, and looked at her. “Is that fair?”
She smiled. “I’d like that too.”
Mark laid down, pulling her into his arms, hoping this was one of many nights he fell asleep holding her.
* * * * *
It was dark, and she was alone. Fear laced her thoughts, made her hands sweat, and her body shake. The shadows danced menacingly around the room, a flash by the window—a shadow that moved. Oh my God . . . a man. It was the outline of a man, and she shoved aside her blankets, frantically kicking them away with her feet as she reached for her gun. But she couldn’t find it.
Where was her gun? She grabbed her purse, feeling frantic, dumping the contents on the bed, searching.
Then suddenly, Mark was there, climbing through the window, going after the shadow of a man. Lindsey panicked and dug harder for her gun, reaching in drawers, under pillows. Giving up, she flung her purse to the ground and ran towards the window, not bothering with a robe. She had to get to Mark.
The window was open and she crawled through, desperation taking hold as she screamed Mark’s name. But he was nowhere in sight. She moved to the fire escape, taking each step with urgency until she jumped into the alley. Still she couldn’t see him. She started running as fast as she could, needing to catch up to him. Her breathing was harsh, labored, and tears were streaming down her face. Where was he? Where was Mark?
* * * * *
“Lindsey.” She heard her name but she didn’t see anyone. “Lindsey, baby, wake up.” Her eyes fluttered. “Lindsey, you’re having a nightmare. Wake up.”
She jerked straight up into a sitting position, her skin damp, and she was wheezing, needing air. Her eyes went to his face. “Mark?”
She felt his arms wrap around her. “Yeah, I’m right here, baby.”
Reality started to return with the sound of his voice. She turned and touched his face, his chest, and his shoulders, needing to know he was here. He was real. A deep sigh of relief escaped her lips. “Oh, God. You’re here. You’re okay.”
Mark grabbed one of her hands and pressed his lips against her palm. “I’m right here. Everything is fine now.”
He pulled her into his arms. “Lay down with me,” he urged gently. Slowly he lowered them both against the sheets. Sinking into his hold, she allowed the safety of his arms to soothe her mind, slowly feeling her breathing return back to normal. After a few minutes, she leaned up and kissed his cheek, so very thankful he was okay, so very appreciative for his comfort.
She wasn’t alone.
“Want to talk about it?” Mark asked, his hand smoothing her hair.
Lindsey rested her head on his shoulder. This time the nightmare had been more vivid, more frightening. And yes, she did want to talk, to tell Mark about it. “I keep having this same nightmare, over and over.”
“You were screaming my name. Why?” he asked, his hand now drawing circles on her arm.
She strained, trying to force her mind to recreate her nightmare. Mark had been there, in the middle of the dread, but not a part of the darkness. “There’s always a stranger trying to get to me, and then you’re there, and I am trying to get to you.”
Mark felt as if he had been punched in the gut. Was this some sort of premonition? They hadn’t known each other long. “When did they start?”
Lindsey’s thoughts raced. “I’m not sure. I think before I met you. But then, how can that be? You’re in them.”
“Maybe you had them before and now that I’m around, I became a part of them.” It seemed logical enough.
She sighed. “Maybe.”
“Rest, baby,” he said kissing her head. “It’s the middle of the night.”
She snuggled closer to him, one of her legs entwining with his. Damn, she felt good in his arms. Within a few minutes, she drifted off to sleep. He lay there, holding her, his mind on everything from the nightmare to the murders. Lindsey made him feel protective from the first moment he met her. With each passing moment, the feeling grew more intense. Her nightmare felt like some kind of premonition. The very thought had him silently cursing himself. Hell, now he was sounding like Lindsey, with all of her instinct and gut-reaction crap. Besides, her nightmares were probably a product of her struggles with the past. Lindsey had torn herself up over Hudson for years.
He stared down at her, nestled by his side . . . so perfect, so needing someone to take care of her. She didn’t think so, but he did. Everyone needed someone, and she was no different. No matter how much she tried to convince herself and the world differently.
He wasn’t going to let her deal with life alone anymore.
Chapter Eleven
Mark woke up to the soft floral scent of Lindsey.
He smiled as he ran his hand down her hair. He was so glad he’d followed her to Vegas. He had always considered himself conservative, the type who would date a woman for a long time before deciding she was the one. Apparently, love didn’t happen that way. It took even the most reserved by storm.
Because Mark knew no matter how many days, weeks, even months passed, Lindsey was the woman for him. It was crazy in terms of how long they had known each other, but it was no less true. No way was he letting her go back to Washington. But she was like a scared deer in the headlights, ready to bolt. One wrong move and she could get spooked.
He could lose her forever.
Lindsey raised her head and peered down at him, her eyes soft from sleep, her voice sultry and hoarse. “Morning, Counselor.”
Their lips pressed together for a quick kiss. “Morning. How’d you sleep?”
“After the nightmare,” she said, “wonderful. I love sleeping with you.”
“Yeah?” he asked, but he didn’t wait for an answer. “I love sleeping with you too. I was just thinking I could get used to having you in my bed.”
She laughed and smiled widely, obviously pleased at his words. “You were, were you?”
Mark shook his head. “Sure was.”
“Well, I’m glad you weren’t thinking about how to get me out of your bed.” She poked his chest playfully.
“Never,” he said, his voice serious now.
Lindsey smiled and rested her head on his shoulder, fingers resting in his chest hair. Abruptly, she raised her head, a question in her expression. “Did you bring luggage?”
“It’s downstairs. I need to call the bell desk. I’ll do that and order us some coffee and breakfast.”
Lindsey sat up, freeing him to move, blankets pulled to her shoulders. “Sounds good, but I’m supposed to meet up with a couple detectives for lunch at eleven-thirty. Make it a light breakfast for me, please.”
Mark shot her a quick look. “I’m coming with you.”
Lindsey pushed herself off the bed, letting the blanket drop. She walked towards the bathroom, oblivious of her nakedness. She peeked over her shoulder at Mark. “I know,” she said and then smiled.
Mark laughed, pleased with her response. He was still smiling when he heard the bellman on the other end of the phone. Shoving his feet in his pants, he dialed room service. He’d barely finished his tasks when Lindsey exited the bathroom wearing the hotel robe, with wet hair falling over her shoulders.
He could so get used to her like this, comfortable and happy and, most importantly, by his side.
* * * * *
Lindsey took a quick shower, finding herself eager to join Mark.
It was an odd feeling, considering how used to being alone she was. She found him sitting on the bed, a room service tray in front of him. “That was fast,” she said, surprised that the food had already arrived, but thankful for the blessing of caffeine. “Coffee, please.”