“Admit it,” Sapphira cajoled. “She’s growing on you.”

Snuggled into the curve of his arm, the two of them huddled together watching old Andy Griffith reruns--common ground was a beautiful thing, he thought, thankful they’d found a program they both liked--Huck chewed the corner of his mouth to keep from smiling. “Who’s growing on me?”

She certainly had, there was no denying that. And yesterday, after their impromptu sex in the bathroom at the coffee shop, he’d stopped trying to convince himself that what he was feeling was simply ordinary.

There was nothing average about the way she made him feel, the way his body reacted to hers.

But that wasn’t what she was talking about and he knew it. His gaze slid to the dog, who’d curled up on his lap and he squashed a grin. Pussy had taken a shine to him.

“Trixie,” she said, she said, reaching over to rub the dog’s little ears. “You like her. Admit it.”

“She’ll make an excellent snack for the real dog I’m going to get,” Huck said, much to Sapphira’s outrage.

She shot him a look. “Real dog? Are you implying that she’s not real?”

“She’s a toy,” Huck told her. “And, I gotta tell ya--“ He winced regretfully. “--she’d not the sharpest knife in the drawer.”

“Huck!”

“Sapphira, she can’t even play fetch.” It was true. He’d tried tossing a few of her toys around in an effort to bring out a little of the canine in her behavior and she’d batted the damned things across the floor, as though she were a cat. Clearly she had some sort of cross-species thing going on.

Her pert nose shot up into the air. “Fetch is over-rated. She does lots of other cute things.”

He had to admit that watching her chase her own tail--another feline trait--was pretty damned amusing. Huck patted the little animal’s back and was rewarded with a delicate lick of his hand. “You can’t help it if you’re a little dull, can you, Pussy?”
She gasped and punched him playfully on the upper arm. “Huck! I told you to stop calling her that.” Her cheeks pinkened. “It’s crass.”

“Yeah...but you like it.”

And he liked making her blush, which was why he kept up the nickname. Sapphira was gorgeous in any right, but something about watching that wash of color spread over her cheeks, that bashful smile slide over her mouth, made her even more beautiful. More compelling.

Furthermore...her? Bashful? When there wasn’t an inhibited bone in her body when it came to making love? It was just another one of those complex contrasting facets of her personality that made her all the more interesting. He loved that about her. Huck inwardly grinned. Which probably made him as neurotic as she was.

After her heartbreakingly weary don’t-make-me-lie-to-you comment yesterday, he’d refrained from asking anymore questions. Instead, in between the time they’d spent in bed, in the shower, in the bathtub and on her couch, he’d started a bit of research on his own. Using the file Ranger Security had amassed on Sapphira’s case and the daily reports of her comings and goings, Huck had noticed an interesting pattern.

In addition to the two doctor’s appointment’s, at every single one of her so-called beauty treatments, her friend Cindy Ward had been present. He knew that girls tended to move around in packs--hell you rarely saw one go to the bathroom alone--but something about that had struck Huck as odd. It as almost as if they were meeting. But why the secrecy? It didn’t make any sense.

The only other place she’d gone besides the various retail outlets, spas and coffee shops had been Dr. Borgu’s office and Belle Charities.

Initially, when he’d first began on the case, Huck had written it off as a minor blip in the overall radar of her life. Lots of rich people had pet charities and organizations they liked to contribute to, more so usually to garner good press and rub elbows with more of the right people than out of a true giving spirit. Seeing that Sapphira had made a twenty minute stop at their humble headquarters downtown hadn’t set off any sort of bell.

But after looking at the rest of the time she’d been out, it was obvious that one little stop had been more telling than any other.

A quick search had revealed that Cindy Ward, the convenient and always available best friend, was also second-in-command at Belle Charities.

To his ultimate shock, Sapphira was the head honcho of the organization, and though he’d discovered they like to keep things very low key, the foundation helped a lot of people. Most particularly, they worked in conjunction with a shelter downtown headed up by a Reverend Alton and one of his key programs happened to be--surprise, surprise--a mentoring program for young, unwed mothers.

No doubt that’s what had attributed to her frequent visits to the doctor’s office, he thought, impressed with her kindness. No doubt one of the girl’s she was mentoring was about to deliver. That explained the fetal heartbeat he’d heard, the “almost there” comment Payne had remarked upon. And she gave more than her money, she gave up her time as well.

Clearly, Sapphira didn’t want her father finding out about her involvement. Why? He couldn’t begin to imagine? Couldn’t wrap his mind around any possible reason Mathias Stravos would mind his daughter helping those less fortunate.

Ultimately, though, he didn’t have to wrap his mind around it. Obviously he still didn’t have all the facts, and more than likely wouldn’t until she decided to share them with him.

Because the root of all mysteries could usually be solved by following the money trail, Huck had called Payne and asked if he could do a little poking around in Sapphira’s finances. Frankly, while Huck could do a few crude searches from here, the kind of information he wanted called for a more finessed hand.

In short, Payne’s extensive wealth could get him answers Huck didn’t have a prayer of acquiring on his own.

Not only had Payne come through, but he’d managed it in record time. In less than an hour from the moment Huck had contacted him, Payne had returned his call and had given him the 411. Though she didn’t actually “work” for Stravos industries, she was on a mind-bogglingly ridiculous salary with the company and, here was the kicker, more than seventy-five percent of her income went into Belle Charities.

Was that the problem? Huck wondered. Would her father object to how she spent her unearned money? And if so, then why put her on salary? Why give her any money at all? His gaze slid to the diploma on the wall. Better still, why didn’t she work?

None of it made any damned sense.

In fact, he wished he could say that the mystery surrounding her and her comings and goings was the only thing that seemed illogical, but frankly...there was nothing the least bit rational about the way she made him feel either.

She made him stupid, Huck decided. Why else would he not seem to be overly concerned about the fact that he was going to be unemployed when he told Payne, McCann and Flanagan about his affair with her? That he would once again be a ship without a rudder? A free agent without a plan?

Sure, she’d suggested that he keep that little kernel of information to himself, but unfortunately, he wasn’t wired that way. He’d made the call--he refused to label being with her a mistake--and he’d own it.

The end.

But would it go in any official report he filed with the company or with her father?

Hell no.

And that was more to protect her than him. Sapphira walked on pins and needles around her father under normal circumstances--he sure as hell wouldn’t give her any other reason to be afraid of the cold-hearted bastard.

Furthermore, ultimately, it wasn’t any of her father’s business.

Shaky ground, he knew, because he essentially worked for the man. Still... He’d been hired to protect Sapphira and if keeping information from her father fell under that purview, then so be it.

His gaze drifted over the achingly smooth slope of her cheek, the shape of her beautiful mouth and lingered around her eyes and a swelling warmth spread throughout his chest. Sheer panic and an emotion so pure it hurt tangled around his heart, making his palms tingle and his breath thin.

The question was...who was going to protect him from her?

Because, whether he liked to admit it or not--whether wanted to admit it or not--he’d unwittingly handed her the power to hurt him.

Lucas Finn had survived some of the most intense military training on earth, had jumped from airplanes directly into enemy fire, had battled other opposing soldiers and faced terrorists who relished the possibility of death.

But he’d never known genuine fear. Real, bone-chilling she-could-break-my-heart horror.

Until today.

Because, he’d realized, nothing was more terrifying than falling in love.

 

*   *   *

 

“What do you mean you’re going to get a dog who will think Trixie is a nice snack?” Sapphira asked, taking the opportunity at a commercial break to go back to that little nugget of information.

For reasons she couldn’t begin to explain, Huck had finally started answering some of her many questions this afternoon. Why? Only he knew, she supposed, but she wasn’t going to linger over the question. The happy fact and important thing to keep in mind was that he was finally beginning to open up. The little tidbit he’d shared about never meeting his father yesterday had been an accident, she was sure, because when she’d tried to plumb the subject further, he’d repeatedly changed the subject.

Today however, or this morning more specifically, after he’d taken that last phone call, he’d been more willing to share. He’d also looked at her as though he’d never truly seen her before and that narrow scrutiny had made her feel like he could see through her, could peer into the deepest corner of her soul. She found the sensation equally reassuring and strange.

“I mean, once we find out who’s threatening you and this case is over, I’m going to get a dog.”

“Really? What kind?”

“A big one,” Huck said, glaring at Trixie. “From the animal shelter.”

“Big dogs aren’t always good for apartment living,” Sapphira pointed out. He’d mentioned that Ranger Security had provided a place downtown as part of his employment package.

Huck slid her a look and grinned, his smile the epitome of wicked. “You just want me to get a sissy dog to match yours.”

“They don’t have to match,” Sapphira told him, though admittedly that would be cute. “I would just prefer that your dog not eat mine, that’s all.” It was the closest she’d come to alluding to the fact that she wanted things between them to continue after all of this mess was over.

Honestly, when Sapphira had started using her mock salary for charity work, she’d essentially accepted the fact that she would be permanently indebted to her father. That she would have to hide her work in order to keep the money coming in and going out.

What she hadn’t factored in at the time was how that indebtedness would essentially prevent her from ever truly breaking free of her overprotective yet mostly absent parent. How his approval and ability to control the purse strings would ultimately give him the power to orchestrate her life as he saw fit.

Until now it had never been a problem. She’d been content and happy. For the most part, he’d left her to own devices and she’d come and gone as she pleased, periodically dated, but had never been serious about anyone. She’d been so focused on what she was doing that she’d never fully explored what she’d be giving up to keep up the status quo.

Sapphira looked into the future now, one that she longed to share with Huck, and saw a quagmire of problems and a landmine of obstacles to overcome.

Bottom line, Mathias Stravos would never approve of Lucas Finn. It wouldn’t matter that he’d fought and served for his country, had been wounded as a result of that service--another tidbit he’d shared. She’d been intrigued by the new scars, the angry one, in particular, across his knee, and he’d finally told her about the training mission gone bad.

In one fell swoop, he’d lost his career.

The blink of an eye and life as he’d known it--his entire purpose had changed. Then Ranger Security had given him a home and he’d squandered it on her, Sapphira thought, hoping with all her heart that he’d avoid the honorable thing and not tell them about their affair.

She knew better, of course. That’s one the things she’d grown to really respect about Huck. What you saw was what you got--no subterfuge, no games, all honesty all the time.

Even when you didn’t necessarily want to hear it.

That took a rare kind of courage--character one didn’t always find anymore. He was a rare breed, she decided, with a true sense of duty and honor and responsibility. Simply put, he was a good man, her Falcon. Another tidbit she’d gotten from him this morning--his military nickname. One that fit, she thought, her gaze caressing the lean slope of his cheek, those piercing gray eyes.

And she grimly suspected she’d fallen in love with him.

When had it happened? Probably the first instant she’d laid eyes on him. She’d known, hadn’t she, that he was different? That he was special? Hell, her body had recognized it long before her heart and head had caught up. She’d been burning for him--in a constant state of longing--from the minute he’d walked into her living room and told her not to call him a sonofabitch, an asshole, or a bastard.

She blushed, remembering that she’d called him worse.

But it didn’t matter, because at the end of the day, despite the heartache she knew was going to inevitably come, she just wanted to be with him.

She wanted to kiss those masculine lips, taste that patch of skin behind the shell of his ear. Trace each rib with her fingers and learn his body in Braille. She wanted to claim every part for her own, burrow beneath his skin and make him feel all the wonderful things she was feeling. She wanted to see into his head and share his thoughts. Heal his pains and help him over the hurdle of losing his passion.

God, how she’d heard that in his voice. When he’d talked about floating along in the sky, that first rush of adrenaline he got from jumping out of a plane, the way his stomach would lurch when he pulled the ripcord and the sense of pride on every successful landing...

He hadn’t simply enjoyed what he’d done--he’d been in love with it.

Huck caught her staring at him and smiled. “What are you thinking about?” he asked cautiously.

“You and your Falcon days,” she said, considering him thoughtfully. “I would have loved to seen you jump out of an airplane. You’re an arrogant bad ass now.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll bet you would have been damned hard to live with back then.”

“Arrogant bad ass?” he parroted, feigning outrage. “I’m not arrogant, Sapphira. I’m good. There’s a difference. It’s subtle,” he reminded her. “So you might have missed it.”

Throwing her words back at her, was he, the wretch? “It’s nice to see that your self-esteem wasn’t damaged in the fall,” she said drolly.

“No, the only thing that wounded, aside from my body, was my pride.” He swore softly and looked away. “Stupid mistake.”

She felt a frown furrow over her brow. “What happened?”

The light dimmed from his eyes and his gaze grew shuttered. “Doesn’t matter, does it? I can’t fly anymore.”

Intuition told her it did matter and because she was nosy she couldn’t let it go. “You don’t make stupid mistakes. Something must have happened.”

She waited and he rewarded her patience with a long sigh. “I got lost in thought, let my mind wander for an instant too long. By the time I realized that I’d missed the drop zone, it was too late. I was already in the trees.”

Lost in thought? About what? It had to have been something important. She threaded her fingers through his and studied the strength in each knuckle, committed every line to memory. “What were you thinking about?”

His gaze finally found hers once more and a humorless grin slid over that sensual mouth, one that somehow managed to break her heart. “My father,” he finally said, a bark of ironic laughter tearing out of his throat. “It’s funny. I hadn’t thought about the man in years. It seemed like a betrayal to my mother, you know. She’d worked so hard, so tirelessly, to make a home for me, to make sure that I never lacked for anything, and so I never really...missed him.” A ghost of a smile played over his lips. “She wouldn’t allow it.” He paused. “But a fellow trooper had lost his father that week and I started thinking about mine. Did I have any brothers and sisters out there? If so, what were they like? Had I passed them on the street? Had I passed him on the street? What was he like? Was he even still alive? I’ve even hired a PI,” he added. He swallowed. “One thought led to another and the next thing I knew, I was screwed.”

Her heart ached and she snuggled closer to him, trying to absorb his pain. “Oh, Huck, I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve got nobody to blame but myself,” he said, suddenly sobering.

And he did, Sapphira knew. “We all make mistakes, Huck,” she said. “And sometimes the hardest person to forgive is ourselves.”

She knew. She’d gone through a brief period where she’d blamed herself for losing her baby. She had to have done something wrong, otherwise her baby would have survived. Ella had told her otherwise, of course, had explained that miscarriage was nature’s way, but it had still been hard.

She’d also blamed herself for Nicky’s death. She hadn’t noticed that he’d been spiraling out of control, she hadn’t taken every phone call, she hadn’t connected the dots. Her fault, she’d thought. If she’d only done something--anything--different, then her brother would be alive. She shared as much with Huck, then shrugged. “Ultimately, I realized that hind-sight was twenty-twenty and that I couldn’t change the outcome. Am I sorry that I didn’t pay more attention? That I missed his cries for help?” She nodded. “Every day. But there’s nothing I can do to change things and the guilt finally got too heavy. Ella convinced me to put it down and move on.”

 “She’s a wise woman,” Huck said, nodding thoughtfully. “Do you know why your brother took his own life?”

Sapphira shook her head. “My father thinks he pushed Nicky too hard and, while I won’t lie and say that didn’t contribute, I think he just...got sick of living. He’d always been a bit troubled. Dad had reamed him out for making a poor investment, his girlfriend had just broken up with him. He hated the business, had always dreamed of pursuing an art career.”

Something sharpened in his gaze and he glanced around her living room. “Are those paintings his?” Huck asked.

She nodded, emotion welling in her throat. “Yeah,” she sighed. “He was very talented.”

“I’m sorry, Sapphira. That must have been tough.”

She leaned her head against his chest. “It was. But it gets easier. We were close and I miss him, but time has a way of making things that were unbearable...bearable. You learn to endure.”

He pressed a kiss on the top of her head. “Those are wise words, sweetheart. Thank you for sharing that with me,” he said, that smooth baritone achingly earnest, silently begging for more.

She longed to bare her soul to him so much in that instant that it hurt, that keeping it in felt like a festering sore in her belly. Do it, a little voice prodded. Tell him about Carmen. Tell him about your baby. Tell him about Belle Charities. Tell him who you really are, what you’re really about.

Sapphira wavered and worried, but ultimately couldn’t bring herself to do it. She couldn’t afford to take the chance. She couldn’t ask to take him into her confidence when he officially worked for her father. Too much was at stake. There was too much to lose.

Evidently sensing that the moment had passed, Sapphira felt a silent sigh leak out of his chest. “What time are we supposed to be at Ella’s for dinner?”

“Six,” she said. “We’ve got about thirty more minutes.”

His hum rattled against her ear. “Just enough time then.”

She felt a slow smile roll around her lips, then nudged Trixie from Huck’s lap and took her place. She smiled down into his woefully familiar face and felt her heart leap into her throat. Oh, God, she was in trouble. “Time for what?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

His eyes curiously intense, filled with revelations she couldn’t readily interpret, he leaned forward and whispered a kiss over her lips. “Dessert,” he said, coupling the answer with a telling squeeze to her rump that sent her joy juices into overdrive.

“Excellent,” Sapphira told him. “It’s my favorite.”