“Tired. Nervous.” She swallowed and met his intense, scrutinizing stare.
“What else?”
There was no point keeping her thoughts from him. Roarke had always had the power to see into her soul. “I wish we could return to London.”
Roarke froze, then his eyebrows met over his nose. “You don’t want to go home?”
She wet her lips again and shifted her gaze. “I do. I think I’m ready to return to the US. Besides, I feel like Cameron won’t get to us there. But all our things are at the house in London—Emmy’s belongings, her baby pictures, everything sentimental we have.”
Roarke nodded slowly. “You mentioned when you called that night that you were only supposed to go with him to Iraq for a work trip.”
“Yeah.” Her voice was small. “He tricked me. I don’t even know if our things are still there. I know it sounds ridiculous, but Emmy’s been through so much. She’d be devastated to leave everything behind. I?—”
He cupped the back of her head and hugged her. “Then we’ll go to London.”
She gasped, leaning back to stare at him. “You mean that?”
“Yeah, Lainie. I’ve got a month before my next job. Once we have your passports, we’ll fly to London and get whatever you need sent to the US. Then I’ll take you and Emmy there and hopefully stay until you’re settled.”
Joy exploded in her chest. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed with what little strength she had left.
“We need to be careful in London. Cameron might suspect you’ll return there. So we won’t stay at your house. We’ll get a short-term rental for a day or two.”
“Yes, of course. Oh my god. Thank you.”
He chuckled and hugged her back, kissing the top of her head. “Don’t mention it. How about you have a shower and get some sleep before Emmy wakes up?”
She nodded, dashing tears from the corner of her eyes. She mumbled another thank-you then disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door before he could see her cry more tears of happiness over materialistic things.
That they could retrieve two dozen stuffed animals and all the other prized possessions a five-year-old could have meant more to her than she could explain.
Hell, maybe she’d been experiencing her own sorrow at the thought of leaving those things behind. A part of her daughter’s childhood.
Either way, she was grateful Roarke was here.
More than she cared to admit.
Chapter
Twelve
Roarke stretched his arms over his head. Sunlight hit his closed eyelids, telling him it had to be almost noon. His back muscles tightened and he groaned, dropping his hand to rub his face. This damn couch was not meant for sleeping on.
“I’m hungry.” The little voice made him jump.
“Jesus Christ,” he croaked, swinging into a sitting position.
Emmy stood in front of him hugging Big Bun. Her eyebrows lifted at his choice of words.
“Uh. Sorry, kiddo. You scared me.” Damn, he sounded as if he’d been dragged over hot coals.
She tucked the corner of her mouth into her plump cheek. Her brown hair was messy and frayed, and her eyes were so big in her small face. “You snore. My dad used to do that.”
Kids. So factual. He wanted to say that he hoped her dad choked on his tongue in his sleep, but he kept that to himself.
“Yeah?” he asked, with little interest. He reached for his shirt, which he’d tossed on the floor, and pulled it on. “He doesn’t anymore?”
Emmy twisted side to side. “I haven’t seen him sleep in a long time.”
