Tossing her lightweight jacket on the mariner's hook, she clicked the door closed and locked at the same time he instructed his secretary to hold his calls. Word was out about the two of them anyway, while he was still reeling from the whole concept of being in love for the first time.
They were already in over their heads, so he needed to grit back his concerns and forge ahead unless she said otherwise, because he wouldn't hurt her a second time.
He shoved aside the stack of files calling to him and wheeled his office chair back from the desk. "How about ask me that question again?"
Nikki narrowed the distance between them with hair-swishing strides. "Do you want me?"
That was a no-brainer. He took her wrist, careful of the raw ring from the lines, and pulled her into his lap. "So damn much."
Tunneling one hand into her hair and the other under her sweater, he kissed her until they both gasped for breath. He wouldn't be in any shape to get up from his chair for a long while, thanks to the sweet wriggle of her bottom against his crotch.
"Do you want to be with me? Not just tonight, but long term?"
He'd been prepared for her to walk, and now she was talking forever, something he couldn't deny that he wanted, too. With her. For a man with an extensive vocabulary, words were suddenly in short supply. He wouldn't run, but he couldn't blame her if she did.
"Damn it, Carson." She thumped his shoulder, then gentled her touch to skim tenderly over the bump on his head from pitching out of the Catalina. "Do you know how hard this is for me to say? I'm making myself totally vulnerable for you. The least you can do is give me an honest answer."
"Honestly?" There wasn't anything left for them but the truth. "I'm scared as hell of passing on my genes and I'm more afraid I'll ruin your life. You're not sure, either. Admit it, you thought I was the one who killed Owens."
That notion stung more than he would have expected even as she rested her head against his shoulder with total ease.
"If we're embracing this total honesty deal, then okay, I considered the possibility that you'd done it to protect me."
He struggled not to flinch. "You thought that, drunk, I would be capable of violence."
"I saw you in my dream." She tipped her head to glance up at him. Her silky dark hair grazed over his arm. "But I realize now it was a dream and not a memory, which means I've had to sift through to figure out which parts are real and which are distorted. The other times I remembered, I was awake so I could trust the full image."
"Are you sure?" He refused to have her fearing him. He'd lived that way for years as a kid and would not subject anyone to that hell.
"If you tell me, I will believe you."
Searching, he found trust in her eyes but couldn't bring himself to believe in what he saw. "So you do think I'm capable?"
"I know anyone is capable." Her fingers skimmed to the back of his neck, along his closely shaved nape. "I'm not sure I could kill someone coming at me. But I'm certain I could kill someone intent on hurting you."
He understood the feeling. "I did not kill Gary Owens. I was at an Al-Anon meeting that night with two other people," Will Watkins and Vic Jansen, "until I was called away to an emergency on the flight line. Then I went home and parked my sorry butt in front of the TV all night because I was missing you so much I was afraid if I went out I would end up on your doorstep."
Carson waited for her response, suddenly realizing that while he might not have a right to her unconditional trust, he sure as hell wanted it.
Finally, she nodded, rocked forward and pressed a long, close-mouthed but no less intense kiss to his mouth before settling to rest against his chest, arms still looped around his neck. "That's what I figured, but thank you for saying it for me anyway."
"Thank you." His arms slid around her and he stole a deeper kiss, needing to feel her warm alive body and banish the image of her wrapped in shrouds and a sail in a watery grave.
Her face tucked in his neck, she continued to tease his ear with feathery strokes that distracted. "Isn't Al-Anon a support group for family members?"
What had she just said and what did that have to do with her other hand scratching through his flight suit along his pec? He replayed her words and—oh, uh, Al-Anon. Talk about a cold splash. "I help out there. The support group is open to helping families of people with other addictions. I feel like I have something to offer family members, as well, since my parents were addicts.">With the horror of Nikki almost dying still pounding through his skull, there was nothing he wanted more than to keep her in his sight. But with her stiff in his arms and her avoiding his eyes, he couldn't help wondering if she needed space, and God knows he wanted to dig in with Reis and find something, anything, to nail the bastard who'd done this to Nikki's life.
Besides, after hearing the truth about him she might well decide to steer clear of him and he would have to love her enough to let her go.
Love?
Damn.
What a helluva time to figure that out.
Her feet would never be warm again. Nikki wasn't so sure about her heart, either.
Sitting at her parents' kitchen table, she shook the can of whipped cream and squirted a hefty swirl into the steaming cup of hot cocoa her dad had made. What a crazy—confusing—afternoon. Finally, Carson was being open and honest with her, or at least he had been until the boat nearly killed them. He'd switched into protective mode again, dropping her off at her parents' with a toe-curling but too-brief kiss, before meeting up with Reis.