no longer chilled but rather seared bone deep.
“Looks like some things never change,” he said softly. “You got yourself back under
control yet, Anna?”
Her cheeks heated as if slapped. “Go to hell, Marshall.”
“Already there, and I prefer Nick. We had an agreement, remember. Christian names
only. Our stand against the anonymity of that god-awful foster system.”
Whether he’d intended it or not, his words tossed her into the past. Suddenly, they
were Nick and Anna of old again, two discarded kids defiant against a cold and uncaring
world, naively believing that together, they alone held the power to fight back.
It was a relief to laugh, even shakily. Some of the stiffness ebbed from her spine.
She was ready to bet a part of his anatomy wasn’t giving up the fight quite so easily.
Oh, God, he’d caught her furtive glance, and he wasn’t the slighted bit disconcerted
by his telltale bulge. Heat slapped at her cheeks as he slow-grinned at her.
Flustered, she hooked back into the relative safety of idle banter. “I hadn’t forgotten.
Although when we were kids, I once spent a week trying to persuade everyone that in
future I was to be called Grace. You undermined my campaign.”
“Anna Key suited you. You broke every rule, leaving chaos and anarchy in your wake.
God, it drove those social workers insane. How many foster homes did you get us chucked
out of?”
“Only two. The other four expulsions were your fault. You caused a riot every time
they tried to split us up. Remember?”
It started with the tiniest of twitches, then, as if he’d concede defeat just this
once, he smiled the smile he’d always reserved for her alone. His lips parted naturally
rather than just tipping at the corners in a sarcastic grimace, to reveal the strong,
even teeth behind them. And it was like watching sunlight advance and shadow retreat.
“It’s not something I’d forget, Anna…”
A warmth she hadn’t felt in an age whispered across her skin. This was the Nick she’d
fallen for. With his emotional barricades down, he promised love. Trust that would
never waver. An eternity of patience and blame-free forgiveness.
Believing him, she moved closer.
“But the truth is, I liked rioting. You just assumed it was because of you.”
She immediately edged back. “So why’d you calm down when they brought me back?”
“Exhaustion.”
Because it sure beat the humiliation of crying, she laughed. His answering half smile,
empty of promise this time, tightened her throat. As did the long, searching look
he settled on her as if reaching for her soul.
“What the hell happened to us, Anna?”
His almost-a-whisper squeezed the air from her lungs. Nick Marshall did not do regret.
She let the silence hang before sharing what had taken her years to accept. “Guess
we finally worked out we didn’t need one another anymore,” she said with a shrug.
“Your coffee’s getting cold.”
Her efforts to resist and get rid of the one man with the power to decimate her completely
weren’t going as planned. She was too close to the brink of allowing him to mesmerize
her again. To fall for that “something” about him that had captured her imagination
as a child and then excited a young woman with nothing on her mind but the need to
be up close and intimate with something dangerous.
“Come on, Anna, for old time’s sake if nothing else, trust me. Tell me the truth about
what the hell’s going on and what you think started it.”
For old time’s sake? Her frown deepened to a scowl. He was playing her. And damn him,
he’d always known which string to pluck. But not this time. She was older now and
so much wiser when it came to self-preservation.
The bottom had fallen out of her world when they’d split. Being married to a man all
ice on the outside but volatile as all hell underneath had threatened her sanity.
But having him love her, and loving him back,
Douglas Preston, Lincoln Child