Moments later they sat at one of the small tables surrounding the concession stand, hot dogs and sodas in front of them. “This tastes wonderful,” Colette said.
Hank smiled, the first gesture of warmth since their lovemaking. “You’re a cheap date if you can be satisfied with a hot dog.”
“It depends on how much time has passed between meals,” she replied, warmed by his smile and the crack in his seeming indifference. “It seems like it’s been a long time since breakfast. I’m hungry enough that you probably could have bought me a pretzel and I’d have been happy.”
As usual, his gaze didn’t stay on her, but rather swept the perimeters of their area, always watchful, always wary, reminding Colette that they were a long way from her happy ending.
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
He nodded. “As far as I can tell. Until they find the car, they’ll be searching the highways looking for us. I think, at least for the moment, we can relax.”
“I won’t relax fully until this is all over, and even then, from what you’ve told me, I’ll probably never be able to completely relax ever again.” She stroked Brook’s head and smiled as the baby gurgled in contentment. She looked back at Hank. “I will testify. If somebody can make my memories return, I’ll testify and face whatever the consequences.”
“I thought you weren’t sure about it, that you would rather run or face charges than face Collier’srevenge. What changed your mind?” He studied her curiously.
She sat back in the seat, frowning thoughtfully. “I’m not exactly sure what changed my mind. I think it was when you told me that policeman was one of Collier’s thugs and probably intended to kill us.” She hugged Brook tighter. “He probably would have killed Brook, too.”
“Probably,” Hank agreed, his voice low.
“A man capable of ordering something like that, men capable of doing things like that, need to be stopped, no matter how high the price. I have to testify, it’s the right thing to do.” She crumpled up the paper that had wrapped her hot dog. “Besides, logically I know whether I testify or not, Collier isn’t the kind of man to be talked out of revenge. As long as I’m alive, I’m at risk. At least with him behind bars, the risk lessens somewhat.”
“That’s the way you felt before. You were determined, despite the danger involved, to testify, to do everything in your power to put Collier away.” His gaze captured hers, dark and enigmatic, yet causing a stir of heat deep inside her. “For what it’s worth, I admire your courage.”
“It’s worth a lot,” she answered, looking down to escape the intensity of his gaze. When he looked at her that way, his eyes like bottomless pits of flames, her skin tingled with the feel of his caresses and an ache grew inside her, the ache to have him hold her, kiss her, love her again.
It bothered her how much his opinion of her mattered. She shouldn’t care what he thought of her. Afterall, in a matter of days, once the trial began, she’d probably never see him again.
“We’d better get to our gate,” he said as he stood and picked up his duffel bag. “We should be loading soon.”
Once again she sensed his emotional distance, his gaze no longer heated but rather remote and wary as he scanned the small group that shared the terminal with them.
His wariness continued as they boarded the bus and he eyed each person who got on. Each and every person underwent complete scrutiny as they found their seats and settled in for the long ride.
Hank didn’t relax until the bus was loaded and on its way, then he leaned back in his seat and breathed an audible sigh. Colette felt a mirroring release of tension. She leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes.
It was difficult to believe so much had happened in the space of two days. She’d been shot at, kidnapped, tied up, and made love to…an emotional roller-coaster ride that had left her momentarily drained.
She shifted in her seat and looked out at the passing scenery, grateful Hank had chosen to sit on the aisle, leaving her the window seat. She was not grateful that the seats were too close, too small to accommodate two people and a baby without inadvertent touch. Hank’s thigh pressed against hers and their arms grazed each other as they shared the arm rest between them.
His scent surrounded her and she wasn’t surewhether it emanated from him or lingered on her own skin from their earlier lovemaking.
Brook gave a lusty cry, one Colette immediately identified as probably hunger. “Could you hand me her bottle from your duffel bag?” Colette asked Hank.
He nodded curtly and handed her the bottle. Colette fed her daughter, grateful to concentrate on anything other than Hank and making love to him.
It wasn’t really making love, she reminded herself. Rather it had been an explosion of tension, a release, a momentary escape from the madness and fear into the arms of strength and togetherness. The threat of death had ignited an enormous hunger for life. But it hadn’t been love that had brought them together.
It troubled her that no matter what they’d shared, no matter what it was called in her head, she wanted it again. She wanted to be in his arms once more, feeling him move inside her, filling up the emptiness inside her.
Fifteen more days, then the trial would begin and Hank would be out of her life forever. She’d be free to find Brook’s father, seek her happily-ever-after. This thought should have brought with it relief, but instead she only felt a dull depression settling over her shoulders.
* * *
FIFTEEN MORE DAYS. The count of days when he’d finally be rid of Colette was becoming a mantra of sorts. Hank hadn’t considered how difficult the bus ride would be, how close their quarters would be for the duration of the ride.
They’d spent the first two hours of the trip in silence, Colette whispering softly to the baby and Hank trying to ignore them both. Realizing it was impossible to ignore them, for the past several hours he and Colette had indulged in the kind of small talk Hank usually abhorred.
They speculated on the other passengers, making up stories about their life-styles and occupations. Colette did most of the talking, while Hank listened, half amused, half irritated by her imaginative flair. Her stories amused him, but it irritated him how much he enjoyed watching her features as she spun her tales.
