He pulled to a halt at a red light and turned in his seat, fixing his gaze on her—that look that made her feel like the only woman in the world. His eyes narrowed, lines hatching in the creases. He reached a hand across—to her cheek, this time—and brushed something away. A second’s pause, then he pushed his fingers through her hair and cradled the back of her head, coaxed her toward him and planted a kiss on her forehead. The ache in her chest started up again.
She went to pull away, then stopped. The fear, right now—it was in her conscious brain. Every other part of her brain—and body—wanted her to tip her head back, glide a hand to the back of his neck, touch her lips to his.
It’s okay to listen to your fear—just don’t let it make all your decisions for you.
Yes. Yes, this decision was all hers.
She tipped her head back. His frowning gaze held hers a second before dropping to her mouth. Like it was inevitable, like it’d happened between them a thousand times, he tilted his head and their lips met. Her fear vanished. In its wake she could feel her nerves firing up, trace their path to her brain as she softened into him, feel her heart pump faster, feel the blood quicken in her veins.
History?
Like hell.
CHAPTER TEN
AHORNBLASTED, behind them. Samira jumped, breaking contact, as Jamie scrambled for the gearshift. Not a police car, just a blue van. The traffic light was green. She pressed her hand against her chest, the heartbeats like seismic aftershocks. Wow. Wow, wow, wow.
Jamie accelerated, staring resolutely ahead, his breath as ragged as hers.
This thing between them—it no longer existed purely as a guilty secret. It had taken form again, like a bubble of gas around them. A thrilling, frightening, euphoric, suffocating drug.
She slid her hand up to her hot throat. And she couldn’t let it continue. Her brain had enough to cope with—it couldn’t be healthy to dump a heap more uncertainty into it.
“Jamie, you should know... I’m still not ready for... I can’t go there.” Was that even the reason? He might be good at making things up as he went along, but she needed to go away for an hour or two to process this. They’d kissed. For real. Not like on the Thames Path, on the street in Putney, the feint for the police officer, not even like France. This last one was barely more than a touch but every part of her knew it was real. It changed everything.
It changes nothing.
“I know you’re not ready,” he said. That catch in his voice—it was the same one she’d heard in France after she’d insisted he leave. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“Weshouldn’t have. It wasn’t on you. I was just as... Let’s forget about it.” Forget aboutthat?The sweet buzz in her chest, the promise of a future in that one light touch? In France she hadn’t felt that promise. That was resolutely a one-night stand—not that she’d had a lot of experience in such things. She’d been a one-man woman for so long.
“Aye,” he said.
She waited.
Aye?That was it? No passionate argument about letting instinct decide, about rejecting fear? Once again he’d relented altogether too easily. Just like in France. The speed at which he’d packed his few belongings that morning...
And she should be grateful he’d relented—then and now. Maybe in a few years, after she’d rebuilt her life, she’d be ready to share it with someone—someone less reluctant than Jamie—but first she had to put all of this behind her. Starting withnotbeing on a wanted poster.
Yes, focus on that. Focus on the problems she could rationalize and take practical steps to overcome. Jamie did not fit that category.
She pulled the goon’s money from her coat and counted it. “Jamie, how much cash do you have?”
“Uh...” He patted his jeans pocket. “About five hundred quid. Flynn advised me to carry cash rather than use a card.” As he spoke, his voice recovered its usual energy. No doubt he was relieved to return to neutral subject matter, reset the clock. “Tess has turned us all into conspiracy theorists. What do you need?”
“A laptop. I ditched mine a year ago and I can’t do this hack on a public computer.” She grabbed his phone from the console between the seats and swiped it. “You really should put a PIN on this.”
“Until now I had nothing to hide. Well, nothing that you’d find on a phone.”
She found the address of the closest electronics store and directed him there. “You’d better go in alone,” she said, as he found a park behind the building. She picked up his phone and typed a list of specifications into his notes app. “Here. And get a power bank. And a car charger. I’ll pay you back when I can exchange my euros. When I’m no longer wanted on both sides of the Atlantic.”
He laughed.
“I wasn’t making a joke.” She double-blinked. “Wow,” she breathed.
“Samira?”
“I keep having these ‘what the hell?’ moments. Even after the crazy couple of years I’ve had, my life keeps getting crazier. It’s like a permanent out-of-body experience. I really am a wanted woman.”
