"Sure." Canvas bag at her feet, she tugged open a drawer and shuffled clothes into the sack.
Thank goodness she was packing. While he was okay with them hanging out here together for a few hours, having her move back in—alone—was another matter altogether. Hopefully this hell would be over before she needed to use all those socks.
And satin underwear. Mint-green. Grape-purple. Lemon-yellow and funny how the mind focused on food adjectives for tasting. Tasting her. Was she wearing tangerine-orange to match that sweater?
Think of something else, pal. Pronto.
His fingers grazed a notepad by her phone, tore off a piece of paper and started folding. He'd picked up origami on his own one dark night, desperate to keep his hands busy with anything other than a bottle.
"I'll call." And he would. She was just within her rights to doubt him. Fold. Tuck. Don't touch Nikki. "Come on and I'll drive you back to your parents' place—and don't even suggest staying here."
"I'm not reckless. I know that I'm not some supercop or investigator. I'm a teacher, something I hope I'll be allowed to do now that I'm off the official suspect list."
She slid a neatly pressed pair of khaki pants from the drawer and he realized she was packing work clothes. Of course she would return to her job now that her name was cleared. Back to students who slashed tires and schools with metal detectors.
He forced himself to breathe evenly and crease the edge of the tiny form taking shape. "Do you have a gun?"
"No." She dropped another sweater, purple to match that grape lingerie no doubt. "And I'm not going to keep one with Jamie around."
"Fair enough."
He knelt beside her, his hand falling on top of hers to stop her speedy stowing because too easily he could envision her someday packing up to walk out of his life for good. "I really am going to call."
"Of course you are." Her hair swished forward to hide her face. "Carson? What's your middle name?"
Huh? God, he would never understand women.
He cupped her head, silken strands sliding over his skin until finally she looked up at him. "Alexander. My full name is Carson Alexander Hunt the fourth."
Searching her translucent gray eyes, he found wary consent a second before her hand glided up to his shoulders. Her mouth met his, no doubt about the mutual move. Here at least there were no misunderstandings or hesitations, just a driving need.
And if he didn't stop soon they would be doing a lot more than kissing.
He eased back. "I don't want to rush all the things I have to say, but come this weekend, we need to talk."
Her fingers toyed with the nape of his neck, her lips teasing over his. "I'd rather do more of this."
He pressed the one-inch paper tulip in her palm. "Certainly possible."
If she didn't run screaming and packing for good after their conversation.
* * *
Her every nerve screamed with tension.
After a jam-packed week of waiting to be alone with Carson, Nikki batted three helium balloons down and out from the passenger seat of her Ranger, clamping a folded Welcome Home, Dad banner under her arm. The three Mylar balloons would be a flyaway mess on the flight line, but Jamie loved them so she'd decided they could just tie the red, white and blue trio to her little brother's wrist.
Patriotic balloons trailing after her, she made tracks toward the big blue Air Force bus that would transport the families out to the tarmac to greet the returning aircrews.
True to his word, Carson had called her, every day this week for that matter, always checking in with her brother, as well, for a security update. Carson had even sent her flowers the morning after they'd made love. Not generic red roses, but a dozen, each one a different color. The note read how they reminded him of her sweaters and the brightness she brought to his life.
She'd cried—who wouldn't?—and slipped the card into the plastic picture holder in her wallet along with the origami tulip so she could look at both again and again in hopes of overriding the impending sense of doom. Their quick conversations had done little to diffuse the anxiety. His workweek was insane with the bombing and returning flyers. And since her return to the classroom, she'd been playing catch-up.
They were talking, some of the conversation sexy and longing. He wanted her. No question. It wasn't like before. But still... She'd been hurt, then angry for so long, this shift left her a bit off balance.
Panting puffs in the cold, she made it to the bus and climbed up the steps with seconds to spare. She waved to her mom and brothers in back and plopped in the lone remaining seat up front. Surely she would feel better once her father was safely home, then she and Carson could have their sailing date.
Date.