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She put her hand against his cheek. He caught it, brought the palm to his lips and kissed it.

And lay watching her, holding her, long after she drifted back to sleep.

He must have slept, too, because the next thing he knew, the sun was approaching its zenith.

Mia was still in his arms.

A strand of dark hair was caught against the corner of her mouth and he eased it away with his fingertip, then kissed the spot where it had been.

It felt so good, holding her like this. Being with her in this house he’d once expected to love and had, instead, hated.

Foolish. A house was only a house, he understood that now. If a man was going to have bad dreams, it didn’t matter where he was. The dreams would keep coming until he chased them out of his head.

Mia being here with him had made him feel different about the house, even about Colombia.

The problem was, he still felt the same about himself.

Alita. The name came to him as it so often did. He hadn’t been able to save her.

Would he be able to save Mia?

She was running from something, but he couldn’t protect her until he knew what that something was. She wasn’t a thief. She didn’t deal in drugs. He’d have staked his life on both things.

Then, why was she on the run? Why would she be in danger from the cartel? If there was nothing between her and Hamilton, why did he want her back?

Why had he lied, and clearly said that there was?

Matthew let out a long breath.

Pieces of the puzzle were missing. The only certainty was that he’d do whatever it took to shield the woman lying in his arms. She needed his protection. Needed him.

And he—he—

No. Hell, no. He didn’t need her. He wanted her, yes. Wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman, but need her? Uh uh. He’d never needed anybody.

He never would.

Matthew frowned. Carefully, he eased his arm from under her shoulders. Took one last look at her face, and then he rose, pulled on a pair of faded denim shorts, and left the room.

Mia was dreaming.

She was walking down a dark, narrow corridor with Matthew.

Where are we going? she said, but he was mute.

A man stood at the end of the corridor. She couldn’t see his face but she knew who it was.

Please, she said to Matthew, don’t make me go to him.

Matthew kept walking, his hand tightening on hers…

Heart pounding, Mia shot up in bed. Sunlight streamed in the window, dappling the pink petals of the perfect wild orchid lying on the pillow next to hers.

The last vestiges of the bad dream slipped away. Smiling, she took the orchid and brought it to her lips.

Last night was the only reality that mattered. Her smile tilted. Unless it, too, was only a dream…

But it wasn’t. She knew that as soon as she showered and dressed, followed the rich aroma of fresh coffee to the kitchen, and saw Matthew.