Take Me (Take Me 1)

Now, she smiled. Leave it to Jude to be so blunt. And scandalous.

But this was a one-night stand only.

Why did she have to keep reminding herself of that?

Kate collected her small purse from the previous evening—the rest had been sent to the cleaners, as Jude’s clothes had. The shoes, too, to be buffed and appear as though they’d never even been worn.

On her way to the door, she considered that her Cinderella moment was about to be erased. Like it’d never happened. Because Kate was that excellent at compartmentalizing, and so was Jude. Those silos she’d thought of when she’d called him and asked him to escort her to the party returned to her. She’d known Jude could internalize the invitation for what it was. Even though she’d innately known he’d employ some crafty maneuvering to get what he wanted out of the deal, she’d already ascertained that, in the long run, they’d be able to contain the intricate nuances of their association, no matter how varied they became, in the appropriate continuum.

Perhaps that was one of the reasons she’d explained about her anticipated international endeavor. Jude would be able to reconcile in his mind that Kate felt compelled to take her skills as a therapist into a different realm. An outreach program he couldn’t disregard; he’d benefited greatly from her services and there was no contesting that.

Still… Each step toward the door became more and more difficult to take. She slowed to a near crawl, her feet feeling heavy, weighted by a peculiar dread she’d never anticipated feeling.

She stood mere inches from the threshold, not quite reaching it. She was rooted in position and that instantly terrified Kate.

She hadn’t wanted to turn her back on Jude. She didn’t want to walk away from him.

Kate pulled in a shaky breath. Held it for as long as she could, then gradually exhaled.

Behind her, Jude murmured, “We did some damage to each other. Didn’t we, Kate?”

12

Jude didn’t narrow the span between them.

He didn’t make a sing

le fucking move.

He didn’t have to. He’d made his point, the hammer hitting the head of the nail soundly. Driving it deep.

He suffered a hint of irritability that Kate was trying so damn hard to pretend nothing had changed between them. But the way she’d yielded to him last night, the way she’d responded to every touch, every kiss, every breath they’d shared, had unmistakably and wholeheartedly assured him of that revelation he’d discerned in his office weeks ago when she’d patched him up.

Kate was not immune to him. Less and less so as they revealed more about their desires and needs.

Jude couldn’t help but believe those desires and needs were mysteriously intertwined—always had been.

Conversely… There was so much diversity in both their personalities and worlds that those woven threads were tenuous.

He was smart enough to recognize that reality. But just cautiously optimistic enough to deliberate over whether the bonds could be strengthened. What would it take?

Admittedly, he’d need more therapy.

Jude couldn’t skirt that inevitability. Especially with that anxiety he’d been feeling lately still besieging him. Even when this case he was working was over, he’d continue to feel the thorns in his sides.

And by thorns, he meant daggers. And they weren’t piercing his fucking sides.

He rubbed his jaw with his finger and thumb as he considered what really needed to be said between him and Kate—all that it encompassed.

His pause had her turning to face him.

Damn, she was so incredibly beautiful, it made his heart hurt. Even worse than the daggers.

She gnawed her lip a moment, drawing his attention to that mouth he’d kissed over and over last night. This morning. The taste of her, the feel of her, the scent of her would stay with him forever. Another element of Kate and this precarious scenario with her he couldn’t escape.

She quietly said, “We shouldn’t have taken things so far.”

“I disagree.”