we’re moving too fast?” she asked softly.
That there’s some big unnamable thing happening, something either threatening or wondrous.
She couldn’t tell which
. . .
“I told you before. I don’t think I can be with you in any way but all the way. One hundred percent. Look at me.” She met his stare reluctantly. “Everything’s going to be okay, Harper. Trust me.”
She drank in his quiet confidence. How could she be so intimidated by him and everything he represented, and yet feel incredibly secure with him at the same time?
“The only thing you have to agree to is this afternoon. Tonight,” he said.
“What about tomorrow night? And the night after that? You said in San Francisco that you wanted us to spend every night together that we could—”
“Then I’ll take it back, if it makes you feel better about it. I guess I’ll just have to talk you into every night each day at a time.” He reached up the back of her head firmly, his gaze on her a smoldering demand. “I want you with me tonight. I want to go out on the boat and spoil you a little, and make love to you a lot. I want to watch the fireworks with you and fall asleep under the stars with you in my arms. Do you think you can manage that?”
She stared at him, her lips parting in bemused arousal. “How do you do that?” she whispered. She felt his little smile like a tickle in her lower belly.
“Is that a yes?” he murmured.
Of course it was. She was beginning to wonder if she’d lost the ability to even say no in his presence.
Harper returned to the sedan a few minutes later, having emptied her clothes from San Francisco and replaced them hastily with clean ones and a few more toiletries.
“Did you bring a swimsuit?” he asked her when she returned, and they resumed their journey via limo to his home.
She glanced over at him and saw his nearly imperceptible smile. “Of course I did. You didn’t think I was going to wear that itsy-bitsy one from before, did you?”
He shrugged as if he didn’t see the problem. “I liked that swimsuit.”
She snorted with laughter, her anxiety fracturing, her happiness swelling when he grinned full out and reached for her, bringing her against him.
Even as she drowned in the bliss of the moment, a flickering, dark thought took shape. Jacob hugged her closer, and it faded.
But maybe it burrowed into her unconscious, like a persistent worm.
How
had it happened, that she’d fallen to this dangerous depth, when she was so unsure of him? How was it even
possible
that he could disarm her so completely, when she’d only known him for such a short period of time?
Admit it, Harper.
Why was she having so much difficulty acknowledging her growing, unsettling suspicions to herself?
Because what you’re considering isn’t a remote possibility, that’s why. Because to
actually
believe you’ve known Jacob Latimer in some other time or place—in some other life—is to admit that you’re losing it.
It was just her confusion and longing making her consider such bizarre possibilities. Everything was blending together: her grief over her parents’ sudden death, her ruminations about her childhood, and Jacob’s inexplicable, powerful effect on her.
The present loss was making her relive the past one.
It hit her then, how odd it was that he’d told her she reminded her of someone else, when she’d been making similar connections,
impossible
comparisons. For the most part, her musings seemed totally wrong, nonsensical . . . just plain crazy.
She rubbed her cheek against Jacob’s chest and stared out the window, tears filling her eyes. Jacob pulled her closer against him. The pain of what she’d done so long ago had dulled over the years. But at that moment, the memory of that childhood ghost—that beautiful, brave boy—rose and stabbed at her brutally.
He’d vanished from her life. But unlike in the case of her parents, Harper herself had been the one responsible for that
That there’s some big unnamable thing happening, something either threatening or wondrous.
She couldn’t tell which
. . .
“I told you before. I don’t think I can be with you in any way but all the way. One hundred percent. Look at me.” She met his stare reluctantly. “Everything’s going to be okay, Harper. Trust me.”
She drank in his quiet confidence. How could she be so intimidated by him and everything he represented, and yet feel incredibly secure with him at the same time?
“The only thing you have to agree to is this afternoon. Tonight,” he said.
“What about tomorrow night? And the night after that? You said in San Francisco that you wanted us to spend every night together that we could—”
“Then I’ll take it back, if it makes you feel better about it. I guess I’ll just have to talk you into every night each day at a time.” He reached up the back of her head firmly, his gaze on her a smoldering demand. “I want you with me tonight. I want to go out on the boat and spoil you a little, and make love to you a lot. I want to watch the fireworks with you and fall asleep under the stars with you in my arms. Do you think you can manage that?”
She stared at him, her lips parting in bemused arousal. “How do you do that?” she whispered. She felt his little smile like a tickle in her lower belly.
“Is that a yes?” he murmured.
Of course it was. She was beginning to wonder if she’d lost the ability to even say no in his presence.
Harper returned to the sedan a few minutes later, having emptied her clothes from San Francisco and replaced them hastily with clean ones and a few more toiletries.
“Did you bring a swimsuit?” he asked her when she returned, and they resumed their journey via limo to his home.
She glanced over at him and saw his nearly imperceptible smile. “Of course I did. You didn’t think I was going to wear that itsy-bitsy one from before, did you?”
He shrugged as if he didn’t see the problem. “I liked that swimsuit.”
She snorted with laughter, her anxiety fracturing, her happiness swelling when he grinned full out and reached for her, bringing her against him.
Even as she drowned in the bliss of the moment, a flickering, dark thought took shape. Jacob hugged her closer, and it faded.
But maybe it burrowed into her unconscious, like a persistent worm.
How
had it happened, that she’d fallen to this dangerous depth, when she was so unsure of him? How was it even
possible
that he could disarm her so completely, when she’d only known him for such a short period of time?
Admit it, Harper.
Why was she having so much difficulty acknowledging her growing, unsettling suspicions to herself?
Because what you’re considering isn’t a remote possibility, that’s why. Because to
actually
believe you’ve known Jacob Latimer in some other time or place—in some other life—is to admit that you’re losing it.
It was just her confusion and longing making her consider such bizarre possibilities. Everything was blending together: her grief over her parents’ sudden death, her ruminations about her childhood, and Jacob’s inexplicable, powerful effect on her.
The present loss was making her relive the past one.
It hit her then, how odd it was that he’d told her she reminded her of someone else, when she’d been making similar connections,
impossible
comparisons. For the most part, her musings seemed totally wrong, nonsensical . . . just plain crazy.
She rubbed her cheek against Jacob’s chest and stared out the window, tears filling her eyes. Jacob pulled her closer against him. The pain of what she’d done so long ago had dulled over the years. But at that moment, the memory of that childhood ghost—that beautiful, brave boy—rose and stabbed at her brutally.
He’d vanished from her life. But unlike in the case of her parents, Harper herself had been the one responsible for that
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