Cedar Cove Collection. Debbie Macomber

      “No.” Rachel doubted she could’ve uttered a single word. Terror had gripped her from the start. James was the one who’d put up a struggle.

      “Is he okay?” she asked urgently. “James? Bobby Polgar’s driver?”

      “I haven’t received an update yet,” the sheriff told her.

      “He tried to protect me,” she said, feeling bad that she hadn’t thought to ask about him sooner. Although she’d been blindfolded, she’d heard their captors hitting James, heard the thud of fists on bone, his grunts of pain. One of the kidnappers had been driving the car, the other riding shotgun. James had been bound and blindfolded, too, and shoved onto the floor in the back, at her feet. She’d been aware of the two men arguing, and then it had apparently been decided that she and James would be set free. Soon after that, they’d been pushed out, close to the freeway. She’d torn off her blindfold and helped release James from his bonds. He’d used his cell phone and called Bobby’s house—the call Sheriff Davis had taken.

      She’d lost her phone in the scuffle at the garage and, in retrospect, she was astonished that he still had his. She supposed it went to show that these kidnappers were amateurs—thugs and bumblers.

      James had been so calm and professional, whereas she shook so badly that, despite his injuries, he’d had to support her as they stumbled to the restaurant. They weren’t at the Dairy Queen more than two minutes when the patrol car pulled up. One of the deputies called the aid car for James; the other escorted Rachel to the station.

      A commotion erupted outside the sheriff’s office, and Rachel recognized Bruce’s voice.

      “Bruce.” She jumped up from the chair and looked pleadingly at Sheriff Davis. “Can I speak to him? Please, I need to see him.”

      The sheriff nodded. “I’ll be in touch tomorrow. Take it easy, now.”

      When she opened the door, she saw Bruce in the hallway, arguing with a deputy. “You don’t understand,” he was saying with barely controlled impatience. “I don’t—”

      “Bruce.”

      Their eyes locked, and without another word they were in each other’s arms. His embrace was almost suffocating, but Rachel didn’t care. She needed to be held and comforted and loved. She’d been so frightened, and that whole time, the one person she’d thought about was Bruce. Not Nate. Bruce. With a dirty rag covering her eyes, sprawled in the back of a speeding car, her life in danger—that was when she’d known beyond any doubt that she loved him.

      Why hadn’t she figured it out earlier? Nate was charming, she was fond of him, but he wasn’t the man who’d moved into her mind and refused to leave. The man she thought about when she might have been on the way to her death.

      Now she needed to tell both men her feelings….

      “Are you hurt?” Bruce stepped back just far enough to study her. With gentle hands, he brushed the hair from her bruised forehead and gazed deeply into her eyes. Whatever he was searching for he must have found, because he drew her back into his embrace with a sigh of relief.

      “Thank God you’re all right,” he whispered over and over again. “Thank God.”

      In Bruce’s arms, the trembling subsided, the bruises stopped hurting and she finally began to feel warm.

      “Tell me what happened,” he said, still holding her close.

      She told him what she knew but the “why” of it remained a mystery.

      “They were after Teri,” she explained.

      “Yes,” he said. “They botched the kidnapping when they took you by mistake.”

      She’d worked out that this whole mess had to do with Bobby, but what the thugs had hoped to achieve she could only speculate. Right now, none of that mattered. Because Bruce was with her.

      He continued to hold her, murmuring encouragement as they stood in that drafty hallway.

      It suddenly occurred to Rachel to ask, “How come you’re here?”

      “I phoned Teri. You weren’t answering your cell and I thought she might know where you were.” She felt his shrug. “I wanted to talk to you about … something, but this isn’t the time.”

      “What did Teri say?”

      “She said I should come to her house, and that was when I found out you’d been kidnapped. I wasn’t there more than a few minutes when James called and I heard you’d been set free. That’s also when I learned you’d be at the sheriff’s office, so I came straight here.”

      As if he’d just realized he was holding her—and shouldn’t be—he abruptly dropped his arms.

      All at once Rachel was cold again. She wanted Bruce to hold her. She needed him.

      She took one small step toward him. “Please …”

      He raised his arms, apparently to abide by her request, and then dropped them again. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

      “Why not?” she asked.

      He frowned. “You know why not. How would Nate feel if he could see us like this?”

      She knew exactly how Nate would feel. He’d be angry and upset. Jealous. “You’re right,” she began, “but—”

      “I have to talk to you, Rachel. That’s why I was looking for you this evening.”

      “Talk to me … about what?”

      He shook his head. “This isn’t the best time. We’ll talk later.”

      She wanted to hear now. But if he wasn’t ready to speak, she was. “I need you, Bruce, no one else. Not Nate. You.”

      “No,” he countered sharply, as though afraid to believe her. “You need a warm body. If Nate was here instead of me, you’d want him. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

      Her eyes pleaded with him for understanding. Her own feelings were clear now and although she recognized that she loved Bruce and wanted to be with him, she couldn’t say any more. Not yet.

      “Will you take me home?” she asked.

      “I.” He hesitated.

      “Please.”

      He nodded, but the look on his face was one of wariness.

      After speaking to the sheriff again, Rachel hurried out to the car, where Bruce was waiting for her. He had the heater on, and the warm air welcomed her, enveloped her. She’d been terrified, her sense of security destroyed. What she craved most—other than the comfort of those she loved—was to be surrounded by familiar things. She needed to be home.

      The drive took place in almost total silence. When Bruce parked in front of the house, Rachel turned to him, hoping for some word, some gesture of reassurance. He kept the car running, letting her know he had no intention of going inside with her.

      “I’ll walk you to your door,” he said curtly.

      It was such an old-fashioned courtesy, and she was grateful for it. He took her house key from her trembling hands and unlocked the dead bolt and then, without looking at her, returned the key.

      Before he could stop her, Rachel slipped her arms around his neck and raised her lips to his, showing how much she loved him, now and always.

      He resisted, but not for long. His mouth opened to hers, his breath warm and moist. And for the first time since she’d been abducted, Rachel felt completely safe. Completely loved and cherished.

      Bruce broke off the kiss before she was ready for it to end. “I’m glad you’re … all right,” he said, his voice husky.

      “I am, too. Thank you for being here, thank you for bringing me home and