Chosen by Christine Pope (best romantic novels in english .TXT) đ
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A hissing sound interrupted us, though, and Jace let go of me abruptly. âThe waterâs boiling,â he said.
Thatâs not the only thing boiling, I thought, but I didnât answer, only lunged for the pot holder so I could lift the lid on the stock pot and then turn down the heat to a more reasonable level. Those mundane tasks helped me gather myself a bit, although I could still feel the blood thrumming and throbbing in my veins. That wasnât the only thing throbbing, either. I wouldnât say I was the kind of person who got turned on easily â as my asshole ex-boyfriend had complained on more than one occasion â but right then I was so aroused that Jace probably could have laid me out flat on the kitchen counter and taken me there with absolutely no complaints.
Heâd backed away slightly, though, seemed content to watch as I dumped some fettucini into the boiling water and then turned the sausages over once again. It was only after I gave the vodka sauce a quick stir that he said, âYou didnâtâŠmind that, did you?â
âMind it?â I asked. We now stood facing one another, my back to the stove. He looked calm enough, but I thought I could detect a certain hard, bright glint in his eyes that Iâd never seen before. Arousal? I couldnât tell.
I realized I didnât know him well enough to guess. Yes, weâd been living under the same roof for almost three weeks now, but weâd always been careful around one another, making sure we didnât cross any lines, didnât blunder through any barriers.
Well, those barriers were pretty well knocked down now.
âI didnât â I didnât want you to think I was forcing you or anything.â
Now he appeared almost worried, the gleam gone from his eyes, leaving them sober and dark, so dark I couldnât really tell where the pupils ended and the irises began.
Forcing me? That was a joke. Iâd wanted that kiss, but had worried that my growing feelings for him werenât reciprocated.
âI mean, after what happened to you in Albuquerque â â
Time to disabuse him of that notion. I set the spoon down on the little stone rest we used to keep our cooking utensils off the counter, then went over and took his hands in mine, right before I went on my tiptoes and kissed him on the lips. A fast kiss, not like the breath-stealing, knee-knocking one weâd shared a few moments earlier, but still enough that he should understand that I liked kissing him very much indeed.
âThis isnât Albuquerque,â I told him. âAnd youâre nothing likeâŠeither of them.â To be fair, I didnât even know for sure that the man whoâd wanted to steal the Cherokee had the same designs on me that Chris Bowman did, but Iâd gotten the impression his intentions werenât exactly benign. âAnd Iâve wantedâŠthisâŠfor a long time. I just wasnât sure it was what you wanted.â
The tense set of his shoulders seemed to relax slightly, and he even grinned. âOh, I wanted it, too. But I didnât want to push you. I could tell youâd been through a lot.â
âWe both have,â I said simply. No need to go into it any more than that. Heâd lost everything, and Iâd lost everything. Through some miracle, though, weâd both come to this place, come to the one spot in the world where weâd be safe to grow into knowing one another, caring for one another.
And again I couldnât help wondering if this was somehow the doing of my guardian angel, the voice. Had he given Jace the same prompting heâd given me?
Eyes flickering as he seemed to study my face, Jace asked, âWhat is it?â
Did I dare mention the voice? Weâd just opened up so much to each other; the last thing I wanted was for him to think I was crazy, or at least slightly unbalanced by everything Iâd experienced since the Heat stole everything I loved. But I didnât want to keep it a secret from him, either.
âDid youâŠ.â I began, then stopped. He was still holding my hands, fingers strong and somehow comforting. I never wanted him to let go, although I knew heâd have to at some point, just to let me get back to making dinner. But that could wait another minute or two. His gaze was still resting on my face, expectant, wondering what I was trying to ask. And there was simply no good way to ask.
âDid you ever hear anything?â I blurted. âAfterward, I mean. Like a voice guiding you, telling you where you should go. Telling you should come here.â
A long, long pause. At least he hadnât let go of my hands, but I could see him weighing the question in his mind, trying to see if I was serious. âNo, nothing like that,â he said at last. âLike I said, I came to Santa Fe because no one seemed to be left in Taos, and I had a friend here. The worldâs longest shot, I know.â He hesitated, then asked, his tone soft, âDid you hear something like that?â
I wanted to deny it. But that would also seem like a denial of all the assistance the voiceâŠguardian angelâŠwhateverâŠhad given me. âYes,â I said. âItâs how I found this house. I would never have gotten out of Albuquerque alive if not for the voice.â
ââThe voice,ââ he repeated. Nothing in the calm, even set of his features told me what he was thinking, and so I could only stand there in agony, wondering when he was going to let go and back away from me. Away from the crazy woman.
Somehow I managed to stand there, waiting.
âYouâve been blessed, I think,â Jace said at last. âSome guiding spirit looked down on you and knew you were worthy, that you needed to survive.â
Relief washed over me. So he didnât think I was crazy. Then again, although Iâd never much believed in such things, I guessed that his people thought differently. The dividing line between our world and the world of the spirits was definitely thinner for them.
âYou really think that?â I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. Up until that moment, I hadnât realized how important it was that he believed me.
âOh, yes,â he replied, pulling me closer to him, his lips finding mine. âSo letâs make sure our survival matters.â
Dinner wasâŠwell, dinner was wonderful. It might have only been left-over sausage and sauce out of a jar, leavened a little by some zucchini from the greenhouse that I steamed to go along with the pasta, but I might as well have been eating at a five-star restaurant for as exhilarated as I felt. Jace had kissed me. Jace wanted me, had only been holding back because he didnât want to pressure me or frighten me off.
Some people might have said it was inevitable, that if you put two healthy, attractive people of the same sexual orientation in the same place, sharing the same home, eventually theyâd end up together. Propinquity, or whatever they called it.
I didnât believe that for a second, though. There were plenty of guys Iâd known over the years who, if theyâd shown up on my doorstep the way Jace had, I couldâve lived in platonic harmony with and never had the slightest inclination for anything more than a quick hug on a birthday or something.
Jace, on the other handâŠwell, Iâd been thinking how hot he was from the first moment I laid eyes on him, even as I was confronting him at the gate to the compound, shotgun in hand. That sudden, unexpected flare of admiration had shifted into attraction as the days had gone on, and now wasâŠwhat?
Far more than simple attraction, even if I was too scared to put a label on it right then.
Heâd opened a bottle of wine, some more of the Black Mesa Montepulciano, which, as it turned out, was also a New Mexico wine. Iâd been so rattled when I arrived at the compound that I
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