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of my toes to peek through the peephole.
    I nearly forget to breathe when I see him. Adrian’s standing on my grubby welcome mat, holding a brown paper bag in one hand and a bouquet of roses in the other.
    Roses , for Heaven’s sake!
    For a long moment, I can only stand there and drink him in. His hair’s disheveled, dark tufts standing out all over his head. He’s bouncing on the heels of his feet, no doubt to stay warm. The leather jacket he’s huddled in doesn’t look to be doing a thing to keep the chill from reaching his body.
    Whether it’s pity or the sight of those flowers that moves my hand, I’m pulling back the deadbolt before I can even consider what I’m doing.
    A blast of cold air hits my bare arms as I yank open the door, reminding me I’m only wearing a tank top and a pair of cotton shorts. I cringe, but it’s too late to throw on a robe now. Instead, I usher him in, slam the door shut behind him and lean against it to calm my racing heart.
    “Hi, Maddie.”
    My name has never sounded so sexy on anyone’s lips. I want to hear it again, shouted in the heat of passion, murmured in worship, whispered in agonized need.
    I wave at the bundles he’s holding. “What’s all this?”
    “I brought you chicken soup.” When I just stare at him, he adds, “You know, because you’re sick.”
    Just when I think he can’t possibly be any cuter, he pushes the bouquet into my arms. “This is for last night.” He leans into me, tilts his head to avoid the plump red 32

    Voices in the Dark
    petals hiding most of my face, and places a chaste kiss on my temple. “Thank you, Maddie.”
    I take a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of roses. I can’t remember the last time anyone brought me flowers, and for a second, the thought saddens me more than I’d have thought possible. I’m horrified to realize that tears are stinging my eyes, so I blink them back quickly and push past Adrian.
    He follows me through the narrow hallway and into the kitchen, where he sets the brown bag down on the counter while I fumble for something large enough to hold the flowers. I don’t own a vase, so in the end I settle on a large plastic container. I think I bought it to hold spaghetti, but it looks as if it’s never been used.
    He doesn’t say anything while I arrange the flowers, but I notice him looking me up and down, frowning when his gaze reaches my ratty blue slippers. I fight the urge to kick them off, reminding myself he’s the one who showed up at my door uninvited. Did he really expect to find me wearing a teddy and thigh-high stockings?
    Absurdly, I wish I had.
    At last, he peels himself away from the doorframe and strides toward me. “You know what I thought when you didn’t show up for work today?”
    He looks so big , so menacing in my tiny kitchen. He’s not smiling, and the intensity in his eyes frightens me as much as it draws me to him.
    I pick up the makeshift vase, hold it like a screen between us. “What?”
    He’s close enough to touch me now, and he does. The back of his hand skims my arm. Goose bumps break out over my skin. I stare, disbelieving, at the tiny bumps. I don’t think anyone’s touch has ever done this to me before.
    I’m probably just cold, I think, but the blast of heat wafting through the vents tells a different story. A trickle of sweat drips between my breasts.
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    Lacey Savage
    “It’s going to sound crazy.” He plucks the flowers from my arms, sets them down on the counter behind me. He did the same with the coffee cup at work. It seems I’m always trying to shield myself from him.
    “Okay.”
    “I thought you’d quit. I thought maybe I scared you and you never wanted to see me again.”
    My pulse pounds at the base of my throat. I can feel it reverberating in my temples, pounding right along with my frenzied heartbeat against my rib cage. “You didn’t.”
    He releases a sigh, and I realize he’s been holding his breath. “Good. I was afraid…”
    The idea