Safe Harbor. Hope White

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Safe Harbor - Hope White Mills & Boon Love Inspired Suspense

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said.

      “What’s that?”

      “How you seem to know what I need.”

      “Excuse me?” He glanced at her.

      “Just now, you knew I wanted to sit by the fire.”

      “You were eyeing it like you needed a sugar fix and it was a hot fudge sundae.”

      “But you didn’t have to set me up here. You paid attention to what I wanted. No one has ever done that for me.”

      The tormented sound of her voice made him crazy on so many levels.

      “Not even your cat?” he joked, trying to cheer her up.

      She snapped her attention to him.

      “Sorry.” He put up his hand. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that when I don’t know what to say to make somebody feel better, I say something stupid.”

      “How did you know I had a cat?”

      He shrugged. “You seem the cat type.”

      “Meaning what?”

      “You have a demanding job managing other people’s lives, so I figured a cat is low maintenance. Plus, there’s that whole warm-and-cuddly-in-your-lap thing that women like.”

      “You have a lot of experience with women, do you?” she said with a raised eyebrow.

      “I’ve had my share.” He glanced into the fire, not wanting to wander down that dark path. Not tonight, not with her.

      She gazed into the fire, as well, and they shared a few minutes of companionable silence. He liked the quiet, the peace it always brought him. Sometimes he’d even drift into silent prayer, surrendering his guilt and remorse, asking God to ease his burden. Alex always felt a little better after prayer. The ache wasn’t totally gone, but it was tempered with hope.

      As the fire crackled and hissed, Alex realized he’d rarely enjoyed the peace of a quiet moment with a woman. Jessica was always chatting and moving. She wasn’t the type to let one unproductive minute slip by. She sometimes criticized Alex for needing time to chill out in front of the TV watching a Seahawks game. Not that he minded her criticism. She was kinder about it than others had been.

      Alex knew he had faults, probably more than most, according to his stepmother, which she drove home on a daily basis growing up.

      How did he end up thinking about her? He shook it off.

      “So, what’s the cat’s name?” he asked.

      When Nicole didn’t answer, he glanced sideways. Her eyes were closed and her cheek pressed against the side cushion of the chair.

      He shifted off the arm of the sofa and kneeled beside her. “Nicole?”

      Completely out, she looked so content that he didn’t want to wake her. Instead, he watched her sleep and thought about the challenges in store for this woman who, it seemed, had already dealt with her share of violence.

      “I was going to put another log—”

      Alex put up his hand to quiet Mrs. C. She wandered closer to the fire and eyed Nicole, then glanced at Alex with a worried frown.

      “She’s in trouble, isn’t she?”

      “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Help me get her to her room?”

      Alex scooped Nicole up yet again, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck. He climbed the stairs to the second floor, careful not to jostle her too much and wake her, although he guessed she was completely out from exhaustion.

      Mrs. C. motored down the hallway to a room at the end, opened the door and pulled down the covers. Alex shifted Nicole gently into the bed and stepped back as Mrs. C. took off Nicole’s shoes and pulled the sheets and comforter across her body. She reached over to turn off a lamp in the corner.

      “Leave it on,” Alex whispered. “If she wakes up in the middle of the night she’ll be disoriented. The light will help her remember where she is.”

      “There’s a sitting room in here,” Mrs. C. said, leading him across the room and opening an oak door. “Or would you rather stay in the room with her?”

      “The sitting room is great, thanks.” He didn’t want Nicole waking up with a strange man hovering beside her bed. Even though he’d saved her life more than once, they were technically still strangers.

      The sitting room was an ideal spot with a clear view of town and unexpected visitors from its bay windows. A new round of concern arced through him.

      “Has anyone called, asking about her?” He pulled back the lace curtain with his forefinger.

      “No, why?”

      “Do me a favor? If anyone calls asking about Nicole—”

      “It’s our policy not to share information about our guests with the general public,” she interrupted him.

      “Good. The fewer people who know she’s here the safer she’ll be. Is your new security system fully functional?”

      “Absolutely. We only have one other guest, Lacy Dunne’s cousin, Grace, from Portland. It should be pretty quiet.”

      Until the Feds showed up.

      “There are extra pillows and blankets in the armoire,” Mrs. C. whispered as she crossed Nicole’s bedroom to the door.

      Alex wouldn’t need them. There was no way he was going to sleep while Nicole was in his custody.

      “What else can I do for you, Alex?” she said, looking up at him with concern in her blue-gray eyes.

      “You’ve done enough. Thank you.”

      With a nod, she shut the door and Alex flipped the dead bolt. He wandered into the sitting area without glancing at Nicole. Seeing her fatigued body bundled up in the blankets would stir anger in his gut, especially now that he knew what kind of childhood she’d endured. Nicole Harris didn’t deserve to be hunted and threatened because she happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

      As he studied the harbor lights in the distance, Alex considered moving Nicole to a different location. But for now they would stay put so she could get a good night’s sleep and be ready to face the challenges of tomorrow.

      * * *

      Nicole awakened with a start. She gasped, sucked in a shallow breath and whipped her head around, trying to figure out where she was, what just happened. A dream. No, another nightmare.

      Shouting. Men shouting.

      Only, she wasn’t hiding in the closet at Mr. Lange’s lake house. She was...

      “The inn,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, even to her own ears.

      Clutching the comforter to her

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