the right ground for them, a neutral place without emotion or attraction.
“I’m going to help. I’ve read every book that has been written on kidnappings like this one.” She gestured toward the books littering her desk. There were others on the criminal mind, he noticed.
Stubborn, interfering female. He could see she meant business. Okay, he could handle that. He was a great believer in using whatever came to hand to solve a case. He would give her something to do to keep her out of his hair.
Passing close to her on his way to check the rest of her quarters, he caught a whiff of her scent. He was reminded of the outdoors, of sunlight and the sweet, spicy scent of wildflowers, of wind and the fresh smell of the earth after a summer shower, of nature and the powerful thrust of the stallion she had ridden….
Unbidden, unexpected, the hunger swept over him, as strong as the tornadoes that bore down from the northwest, destroying everything in their path. He fought the battle and won.
This he understood. It was passion, no more, no less. But the undercurrents between them whispered of something else. In the nursery, he’d seen the vulnerable side of her, the love for her nephew, the worry and despair that had shone briefly in the depths of her eyes. His partner’s wife had looked like that after they had buried Stan.
From those two, Dev had learned what a real marriage was supposed to be, the give and take, the sharing of the good and bad, the raising of their kids…
The pain hit him as it always did—rising from his soul, tormenting him. Love, he had discovered early in his life, was a hurtful thing. It lifted the heart on wings of hope, then dashed it to the ground, shattered and struggling.
“Why haven’t they contacted us again?” Vanessa asked suddenly, interrupting his inner tirade of guilt and blame. She clenched her hands at her sides. “I should have looked in on him. I started to, but I let myself be distracted. Maria had returned and I stopped and talked to her. After that, I forgot to check on Bryan. I should have. I meant to…”
When she looked at him, the pain was in her eyes. He knew that feeling and the guilt that went with it.
He looked away, refusing to give in.
“If only I had gone to the nursery—”
“And done what?” he asked harshly. “Surprised the kidnappers and gotten yourself killed?”
Vanessa shook her head, angry with herself for failing her nephew. “I don’t know.”
She swallowed hard against the knot of emotion that filled her throat, the agony in her spirit. “He was so tiny. Claudia was good about sharing him. She let me hold him and rock him. He liked patty-cake. And funny songs. He was our future, the next generation of Fortunes…” Her throat closed and she had to stop for a second. “It’s so difficult, not knowing if he’s alive and well. Or if…if…”
“In ransom cases, it’s in their interests to keep him alive,” he said tersely.
“Help me find him,” she begged, the despair rising. She instinctively knew this man would do his best to find the baby. There was something about him that she trusted.
No, it was more than trust. The moment she had looked into his eyes, had viewed the steadiness in him when he had faced her as the horse reared and pawed the air, she had known there was something between them, something deep and personal and eternal. She said his name. “Devin.”
His hand clenched at his side. “Dev,” he said, his voice dropping to a low roughness that both soothed and thrilled her. “My friends call me Dev.”
She heard the reluctance in his tone. He had been trying to distance himself from her and the feelings between them. She knew that. He didn’t want to be friends with her. He didn’t intend to get that close. She understood all that in an instant, and it didn’t matter…because she knew it wouldn’t work. Whatever this was, it was too strong for denial.
“Hold me,” she said softly. It wasn’t a request or even an order. It was stark need.
He rammed his hands into his pockets. His glare should have withered any expectations she might have, but it didn’t.
“Hold me,” she repeated.
“You’re playing dangerously, just as you did when you pitted that red stallion against a car. If you had fallen—”
She shook her head, cutting off the reprimand, and felt her hair shift around her shoulders as if it, too, sensed the restless need of her spirit. “I’d been watching for you. I saw you turn off the highway. I wanted to be here when you arrived. I wanted to be the first person you met.”
“Why?” He narrowed his eyes menacingly. “Why are you so anxious to keep tabs on me?”
The question was meant to startle and disarm. It did neither. “I want to help with the investigation. The baby, Bryan—” She stopped and took a ragged breath. “He’s so little, only three—no, four—months old now. An innocent baby. He’ll be frightened. How could anyone take him?”
Tears filled her eyes. She stepped forward, reaching for him, needing the strength she sensed he could offer. She sighed wearily as she felt his warmth enclose her like a sweet, welcome embrace although he refused to touch her.
“Money,” he replied, his tone hard. “That’s the usual reason people commit crimes.”
She laid her hands on his chest. She felt small and fragile next to his great strength, although she had never considered herself either. His breath sighed gently on the top of her head as he stared down at her, his stance wary.
“I’m not your father,” he said. “I’m not here for your comfort.”
When she didn’t step back, he put his hands on her shoulders as if he would push her away, then paused, as if he couldn’t bring himself to be cruel.
“There’s compassion in you,” she murmured. Desperation and despair churned in her. “I’m afraid. I know the chances of getting my nephew back alive lessen with each passing day,” she whispered, guilt forcing the words from her. “If I had gone to the nursery, they might have taken me in his place.”
She was glad when he didn’t murmur the usual platitudes that offered scant comfort.
“If he’s alive, I’ll find him,” he said in a deeper, huskier tone. A promise.
She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. “I know. The moment I saw you, outside, when you arrived, I knew—”
She stopped, the explanation dying on her lips. He bent slightly, then pulled back, a stunned expression flashing into his eyes, replaced immediately by one of fierce, angry control. And something more—a darkness that spoke of regret and a bitter knowledge of life that excluded anyone else.
“Yes,” she whispered, knowing whatever they felt toward each other was right, her and this dark knight with eyes like the morning sky.
He sucked in a harsh breath.
She realized with something akin to shock that she wanted him to kiss her, to act on the impulse he had subdued. Instinctively she arched against him and felt the shudder that tore through
