“Mmm,” she hummed again and then abruptly sat up, blinking blearily.
Her fingers slipped from his so she could push a recalcitrant strand of hair from her face. He was shocked by how bereft he felt without her touch.
“I fell asleep.” It was a statement. But the little upward lilt at the end made it sound like a question.
“You did.” He grabbed the travel mug of coffee he’d tucked into the pocket on the back of the seat in front of him and took a drink he didn’t really want. He needed the distraction, a moment to look anywhere but into her dark eyes because he was scared his recent revelation would show all over his face.
“Did I snore?” She wrinkled her nose and glanced toward the other side of the plane where Fisher and Eliza sat dozing.
“It was more of a low rumble,” he assured her. “Like a kitten getting its belly rubbed.”
The look she sent him shouted her skepticism. “Cesar says I sound like I’m choking on a fish bone.”
He grinned. “What are best friends for if not to exaggerate our flaws?”
“True,” she conceded and then lifted her arms over her head in a long stretch.
He used the opportunity to employ a little tactical breathing. Hehadto get his heart rate under control or he was afraid the silly organ was going to beat right out of his chest. And then she’d be all,“What’s your heart doing sitting on the armrest, Sam?”And he’d have to admit,“The damn thing just wants to be close to you, Hannah.”
“How close are we?” She glanced out the window at the moonless night.
“’Bout halfway would be my guess.” Could she hear the heavy thud of his heart? The huskiness in his voice?
“Only halfway?” She shuddered and scooted down in her seat so she could lean her temple against his shoulder again. “I’m going back to sleep then. When I’m sleeping I don’t have to think about being a fugitive.”
“It’s gonna be okay.” He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from blurting,I’m gonna move heaven and earth to makesureit’s okay because I’m head over heels in love with you, you adorable, wonderful, crazy-making woman.
“I hope you’re right.” Her uneasiness made her voice thready. “I just want this to be over. To go back to my quiet life.”
“Quiet life? You work for the D.O.D. You live with a drag queen. I don’t think anyone would look at your life and call itquiet.”
She pushed up from his shoulder and the low sound she made in the back of her throat was one of despair. “I wasshotat tonight, Sam.” Her jaw worked like she was trying to break the words instead of say them. “I’m about to go sneak into a state-run power plant, which I’m pretty sure is a felony. And I’ve dragged youand your friends”—she hitched her chin toward Fisher and Eliza—“into this mess with me.”
“Don’t worry ’bout us, sweetheart.” He brushed back the strand of hair that kept falling from her bun. “We do this sorta thing all the time. Just another day at the office for us.”
She shuddered. “I don’t know how you do it. I’m a damned wreck.”
“You get used to it. And it’s not like this all day, every day. It’s mostly boring, boring, boring interrupted by brief stints of balls to the wall.”
“No, thank you.” She shook her head before tucking it back onto his shoulder. And then her next words cut into him like tiny blades. “You can keep that life to yourself. I want no part of it.”
His heart had been floating like a damn helium balloon since he realized he was in love with her. Now it sank like a lead anchor.
It took a special kind of woman to love a fighting man. He’d assumed Hannah was that kind of woman.
Was I wrong?
Something Chloe had said when they’d been sitting across from each other at the divorce proceedings echoed in his head.
“What did you expect, Sam? That I was just supposed to be fine on my own while you were out doing god knows what? That I was just supposed to keep a stiff upper lip even though I was scared to death that any day I was going to wake up to a knock on my door? That I wasn’t supposed to have a shoulder to cry on?”
If he loved Hannah—and he knew he did just like he knew his name was Samuel James Harwood—then the last thing he wanted was to subject her to the kind of life that would make her miserable. To be the reason she cried into her pillow at night instead of waking up smiling every morning. To expect her to be fine with the danger and riskiness and uncertainty that went hand-in-hand with the life path he’d chosen for himself.
For a moment there, his future had bloomed before him like a flower, unfurling with possibilities. Now it was curled into a tight bud, bound by the contract he’d signed and the duty he owed Madam President.
He took another sip of coffee, but it didn’t wash away the bitterness in his throat. Or the pain in his heart.
25
