“No problem. If you need me, call me.” Heath pursed his lips, obviously searching for words.
Denver shook his head. “I can’t talk about her. Not right now.” It was too fresh, and she was too close. He couldn’t think straight.
Heath, true to the brother he was, nodded. “Okay. I get that, I really do.” He just stared at him as if looking for words.
Denver’s chest heated. “You’re a good brother, H,” he said softly.
Heath grinned. “I’m a great brother. So are you.” He glanced over his shoulder and then back. “We’re all in this together. Please don’t forget that.”
Denver relaxed. Yeah. They were family, and that’s what mattered. “I won’t. Try to get some sleep.”
“You too.” Heath wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “With Noni . . .”
“Dork.” Denver chuckled.
“I know. Later.” Heath clicked off.
Denver took a deep breath and went back to work. An hour later, he had more information, but his head hurt. He glanced around the room. Nowhere to sleep. He headed down the hall and nudged open the door to the bedroom. The dim hall light spilled inside to illuminate the woman on the bed.
Noni slept quietly on her side, her silky hair spread over the pillow. She took up barely a quarter of the bed. Something welled up in his chest, and he let his throat fill. She was so damn close.
Every night when he closed his eyes and tried to sleep, he saw her face. Smelled her scent. Not once had he let himself hope that he’d see her again. Touch her again. He’d figured his short time with her would have to sustain him for the rest of his life. The time when he’d almost had a life—a real one with her. He’d whispered “Good-bye” as he’d left town, and he’d meant it, even though his chest had felt like somebody had sliced into him with a blade.
Yet now she was within his reach. Somehow it hurt worse knowing that he would have to let her go again.
He was so fucking tired. She was so fucking close. Without allowing himself to think about it, he snapped off the hall light and moved into the bedroom, gingerly lying down next to her.
She didn’t move. Her breathing was even and her sleep seemingly peaceful.
He reached out and rubbed some of her smooth hair between his fingers. Soft and silky. Her scent of orchids wafted around him, settling him. It had amused him from day one that a woman from one of the coldest areas in the world would have such a warm smell. Like every day was a peaceful vacation.
He fell asleep surrounded by her, and for once the nightmares stayed away.
Noni slowly came awake with a heater at her back. The smell of male and forest filled her senses.
Denver.
She stilled and listened to his even breathing. He was asleep. Good. She took a moment to feel his presence in bed again. Some of the happiest times in her entire life had been with him in bed. Man, she’d fallen for him fast and hard. They’d dated for only about three months, but she could remember each and every detail as if it were yesterday. The feeling of him in bed was right.
Yet it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. For months after he’d left, she hadn’t slept in her bed. She’d watched television until falling asleep on the sofa in her living room.
She couldn’t do this. Be with him like this. Everything feminine in her wanted to turn around and snuggle into his arms. But he’d be gone soon, and she knew it. Why torture herself? The room was still dark, so dawn hadn’t yet arrived. She slid from the bed as quietly as she could, turned, and backtracked to the doorway.
He slept on his back on top of the covers, his huge body taking up most of the bed. His movements were nil, but his breathing even. How tired had he been? A lock of his black hair had fallen onto his forehead, and her fingers itched to push it away. To caress down his hard jaw and muscled neck to that wide chest. She’d once spent an entire morning kissing that chest.
Man, she missed him. Even now, with him near and her so pissed, she missed those moments. When he had been hers to touch.
Enough wallowing. It was beneath her, and she was stronger than this. There was no choice. She swallowed and gathered her courage, stepping out of the room and quietly shutting the door. After a quick trip to the one bathroom, she tiptoed into the living room and surveyed the computers. The materials from her backpack were spread over a table, and other manila files and yellow notepads were scattered around.
Forgoing her notes for his, she flipped through them. A small—very small—part of her felt guilty to be going through Denver’s things. The other part, the one he’d abandoned alone in a bed in Alaska, didn’t give a hoot. The man would never level with her, so she’d be the detective on this case.
The file held a bunch of notes and pictures of redheaded women. Something about the Copper Killer murderer. She pushed it aside and opened another file labeledDR. MADISON. A picture of a beautiful woman with black hair and cold blue eyes was taped to the inside cover.
“See anything that interests you?” Denver asked from hallway entry.
Noni jumped, her lungs compressing. “I’m just getting started.” She would not feel bad. “I read about the Copper Killer case in the newspaper. He was a serial killer who focused on redheads. They caught the guy here in Snowville, right?”
“Wecaught the guy,” Denver said, not moving. He leaned against the door frame, his hair mussed up, whiskers covering his square jaw. His ragged T-shirt was wrinkled and his jeans ripped, and nothing in the world had ever looked so delicious. Sexy, tousled, and dangerous.
