Love Me Before Dawn. Lindsay McKenna

Cy? What kind of vindictive game was being played? Had the story caused Cy’s heart attack? Worriedly he studied Tess. She stood before him, trembling with fear and pain. “Dammit, Tess, come here,” he growled, and pulled her into his arms.

      An anguished cry escaped from her as he crushed her against his body. He buried his head against the silken folds of her hair, holding her tightly. “Ssshh,” he crooned softly, “it’ll be all right, honey. Ssshh, that’s it, go ahead, cry. Get it out. I’m sorry. So sorry this has happened. You don’t deserve this. None of it.”

      Huge, tearing sobs broke from her as she gave in, collapsing against the strength of his body. Tess buried her head on his chest, the backlog of fear, shock, and horror rushing out in strangled, gulping sounds. Just having Shep’s arms around her made her feel cared for, protected. She was barely cognizant of his soft, unintelligible words in her ear. His fingers gently stroked her head to soothe her, to take away the agony.

      They were standing in the hall. Shep slipped his arms beneath her quivering body and picked her up. He carried her into the living room, halting near the couch, acutely aware of the warmth and pliancy of her body. She was in his arms, her hair like raw silk, the scent and touch of her skin a mingling of sandalwood with velvet. Shep didn’t want to let her go. She was alive. So incredibly alive. She was everything he had imagined. And more. Much, much more. He wanted to carry her into the bedroom and lay her down beside him. Shep knew he could assuage her pain, give her a momentary sanctuary of peace and strength through the act of loving her.

      The night they first kissed, their union had completed each of them, and Shep instinctively realized that he could create the same harmony now. The same incredible sense of loving communion that had given both of them those precious, fleeting moments of wonder and peace.

      He was torn between laying her down on the couch and carrying her into the bedroom despite her protests. Some indefinable emotion rose in him, nearly overwhelming his senses as he held Tess in his arms. He was aware of the arousal of his body, of his emotions as he felt the pliancy of her flesh against his hands. Reluctantly, Shep lowered Tess to the couch, then brought her back into the protective circle of his arms.

      Shep had expected her to pull away, but to his surprise, she fell back into his embrace. His heart sang with silent joy at the simple gesture. Despite Tess’s words, there was still trust and an intangible bond of unnamed emotion between them, an emotion that allowed her to come to him for comfort.

      Finally, after nearly half an hour, she quieted. Shep absently stroked her hair, feeling the rapid beat of her heart against his chest. He closed his eyes, resting his head against her hair. Her breasts were soft against the wall of his chest, her body fitting perfectly against the planes of his own. The urge to deepen the intimacy of his slow, stroking motions on her beautifully curved back was a continuing agony. She was so warm, her scent intoxicating his heightened senses. Leaning over, he placed a kiss on her temple, aware of the silken hair beneath his mouth and the yielding softness of her flesh. It would be so easy ... so easy to cup his hand beneath her chin, lift it upward, placing her tear-stained lips against his mouth. Desire pulsated through his tightly controlled body. Each beat of her heart was like a throbbing invitation, fanning the flames of hungry desire to roaring life within him. No woman had ever affected him on such a primal level.

      Putting a rein on his needs, Shep closed his eyes, resting his head against her hair. It couldn’t be, he thought morosely. Not now…not like this. ... If I did make love to her, she would never forgive herself or me. I can’t risk that. He briefly opened his gray eyes, pain clearly written in their depths as he stared emptily off into space. Tess would hate herself and hate him. And Shep cared too deeply to let her be hurt any more. He thought too much of Tess to compound her problems. Gently, Shep ran his fingers through her hair, glorying in the sensation. Despite everything, he was determined to see Tess through this and try to reestablish a relationship with her at some point later on. A feeling of contentment washed over him, a warmth that he’d never experienced before. “Better?” he inquired, his voice barely above a whisper.

      Tess nodded once. She pulled her hand from around his waist and tried to dry her thick, tear-wet lashes. He dug out his handkerchief, placing it into her fingers. “Seems like you’re always crying when we’re together,” he noted wryly, gazing down at her and recalling her tears at Palmdale.

      Tess mutely agreed, pulling free of him. She stared at him gravely, aware that his left arm remained around her waist. There was a naturalness to their relationship. Why did she feel safe and stable when Shep was with her? She shouldn’t. Where had the horror of guilt gone? Right now she felt calm. As if she were in the eye of a hurricane. His gray eyes were dark and searching upon her face. There was worry coupled with anxiety in their depths. She swallowed against the lump that was forming in her throat, realizing how deeply he cared.

      “Can you tell me what happened, Tess?” he coaxed gently.

      She dropped her gaze to his handkerchief, twisting it between her fingers. “I—I was late getting home because my car had a flat tire.”

      “A flat tire? Why didn’t you call me, Tess? I would have driven out and helped you.”

      She shook her head. “I know you would have, Shep. I—I was afraid to.”

      He watched her closely and understood what she wasn’t able to say—any time spent with him was a special, unfulfilled agony. He squeezed her arm. “It’s all right,” he soothed. “Go on.”

      Tess gave him a helpless look. “When I finally got home, Cy was sitting here.” Her voice wobbled and she held her hand across her mouth. “He—he said someone had seen us on the balcony. And then”—she sobbed harder, fighting back the deluge of fresh tears— “he wondered why I was late coming back from Palmdale. He knew I was with you. ...”

      Shep clenched his teeth, drawing in a deep breath while she cried. He gripped her arm. “Tess, who told him all this?” he demanded tightly. “Who?”

      “Derek Barton! He’s a horrible little man! A subcontractor to Rockwell on the B-1 project.” She drew in a shaky breath, trying to get a hold on her rampant emotions.

      Anger, more chilling than a glacier in the Arctic, flowed through him. “He lied,” he breathed softly. “The bastard lied.”

      “And—and Cy’s dead because of that rotten, horrible lie! Oh, Shep—” she whispered painfully, “I can’t stand living with the pain of knowing I killed him.”

      He gripped her by the arms, giving her a small shake. “Stop it,” he growled. “That’s not true. Cy was a dedicated man. You said yourself he was a workaholic. He’d been putting in too many long hours. A man of his age who’s working like that is prone to a heart attack, Tess. What have the doctors said?”

      Shakily she wiped the tears away, looking up at him morosely. “They’re supposed to call this afternoon.”

      His face softened. “And the funeral?”

      Tess winced. “Two days from now.”

      His grip tightened momentarily until he realized he was hurting her. Relaxing it he said, “Do you have anyone to help you with the details?”

      She made a weak gesture with her hand. “Rockwell people. They’ve been very supportive.”

      “I mean a friend? Someone close who can help pull you through all of this.”

      Her mind fled over a list of the women she knew. The Rockwell secretaries hated her because of her position in the company. She had few outside friends. There was no other woman at her level, or even above her, whom she could confide in. She shook her head. “I—no, I don’t. It’s hard to explain. I spent my time either at the office with Cy or here at home with him.”

      He pursed his lips, watching her closely. “Tess, let me be here for you. It’s the least I can do under the circumstances.”

      Her eyes widened, broadcasting her anguish. “I can’t, Shep—Barton will be spreading rumors. I—” She halted, her voice growing hoarse. “No, you can’t.