Two days of rest had done her well. Her face wasn’t so pale on the second morning, and there was more of a bounce in her step as she came down the stairs a good hour after sunup.

John stood, waiting, with his mug of coffee. He sipped the rich brew until she hit the last step and looked up. She stopped abruptly when she saw him, tucking that familiar strand of hair behind her ear as a smile spread across her face.

She looked softer even than that first day he’d found her. The edge was gone, if only for the moment. He knew for her, life was an edge. Her job, her personality. She might relax for a minute, but then her mind would be whirling to the next task, the next thought.

“Hey.” A telltale blush rose on her cheeks.

“Everything okay?”

“Yup—” She turned when the music from his mom’s dance class floated through the doorway behind her. The French doors opened to a large sunroom-slash-sitting room. It faced the southwestern skies. His mom was rearranging furniture.

Emily looked at him, lifting her brow.

“Weekly dance lessons for the past thirty years. You do not want to miss it.”

His mom turned quickly, making the shiny gray knot of hair at the back of her head shake loose. She redid the elastic holder and eyed him and then Emily. “Emily. Do you like to dance?”

“Oh.” Emily cleared her throat. “Well, I haven’t thought about it.”

“She doesn’t want to dance, Mom.”

“But this is perfect timing.” Mom grinned at John, making him freeze up. Oh shit. He was such a sucker. “Now you have a partner. Come. Help me finish moving the furniture out of the way before the other students arrive. It’s almost time to start.”

He groaned and looked to Emily. What did he say? How did he still have such a hard time saying no to his mom? “Do you mind?” he asked Emily.

She froze, as their gazes met, and he knew in that moment, neither of them wanted to disappoint. Still, he could sense her panic, so he took her hand and grinned. “Save me,” he said facetiously. “Please! Don’t make me dance with my sister.”

Rachel snorted from across the room. “He’ll flatten your toes, but he is better than dancing with David.”

Emily threw him a pretend dirty look, but he just shrugged. Sorry, he mouthed, and her look turned to a roll of the eyes. And he knew he really wanted to dance with her, wanted her in his arms again. He swore he could feel her hand tremble in his own before he squeezed it and then went to help his mom.

Emily joined in as well, making herself a part of the team as she pulled one of the wingback chairs off to the side.

“John, pull the rollaway cabinet out of the corner there.” His mom twirled with a wave of her hands, sending her long skirt swirling around her calves, ’50s style, then snapped to attention with two sharp claps. “And we’re ready. Perfect.”

As if on cue, an elderly couple came through the side door. Mom had made Dad put an exterior door into the sitting room, so her students could come and go without disturbing the family.

Each no taller than five feet, the older couple came in their Sunday best. Behind them, a young couple entered, the woman draped against her partner’s arm and holding his hand.

John shook hands with the young man. “How are you doing, Gary? This your new girl?”

“Actually, I’d like you to meet my wife.” Gary put an arm around his bride. “Monica, this is John, Donna’s middle son.”

Monica smiled shyly. “Nice to meet you, John.”

John backed up a bit, letting Emily into the circle. “Emily, this is Gary and Monica. Gary and I went to school together. Long time ago.”

“Monica is from Montana. We met at the university,” Gary said.

Mom interrupted with a series of rhythmic claps and flamenco-sounding footsteps. “Starting positions, everyone.”

Emily glanced at John and raised a brow. Then she leaned in. “Your mother is very impressive.”

He grinned, taking her hand and firmly placing her against his body. Her other hand automatically went to his side. She gripped for a moment then eased, and just to be ornery, he pulled her close enough to smell the floral scent of her shampoo when he took a deep breath.

“Oh, that won’t do at all, John. You know better. You must leave room for the Holy Spirit.” His mom placed a hand on Emily’s shoulder and one on John’s. There was a twinkle in her eye. “Your feet need to be able to move, dear. There. That’s better.”

Emily smirked at John.

“It was worth it,” he whispered to her, making her blush. He loved getting a reaction from her—no matter if it was that fire in her eyes or the heat on her neck.

Emily cleared her throat and gave her attention back to his mom, who was lifting the lid of the hi-fi cabinet. With a slight scratch of needle on vinyl, a waltz played from the speakers.

“So we begin with the simple box move. One, two, three. One, two, three.”

After stumbling through the first few turns, Emily caught on and relaxed in his arms.

“I’ve never taken lessons like this. I mean, everyone dances, right?”

He grinned. “High school prom? The nightclub?”

“Yes.” She smiled back. “Exactly. But this is, like…different. It’s more like choreography, I guess. Like training. You should get your mom to come out and teach a class for Hawk Elite. It might improve other training efforts.”

“You mean like ballet for football players.” He thought about it. It wasn’t a bad idea. Perhaps not with his mother—geez—but it could be a new line of training for everyone. “I’ll have to bring it up to Hawk.”

Her foot landed on his. “Sorry!” And then she snickered.

“Don’t giggle,” John said seriously.

“I’ve never been much of a dancer, even in the nightclub scene. Too much control,” she admitted. “I’m afraid I’ll step on your feet.”

“You can step on my feet anytime.” The words came without thought. Bam! And there they were in the front of his brain and on his tongue.

She stopped their motion. “Now, you have to stop saying things like that! We hardly know each other.”

“And one, two, three. One, two, three.” His mom came over and put them back into position. “Left foot first, John. Emily, you follow along, dear. One, two, three. That’s it. Beautiful! You make a very handsome couple. Both graceful…and tall. Lovely.

“Not that way, Monica. Shoulders back. That’s better. Down, up, up. Down, up, up.”

* * *

It didn’t matter that they were in position—with room for the Holy Spirit, even—John’s closeness was making her lightheaded. He was making her heart race. Donna’s comment about their heights had put her in complete awareness of exactly how well matched they were.

His broad shoulder under her hand moved and rippled through the dance. His hand on her waist, squeezing gently before they turned again on the dance floor. And then hands together, barely touching, as he took her through moves she’d never done before.

If he’d brought her to Idaho to seduce her, it was working.

His family had opened their home to her, without a second thought. They didn’t care what she’d done…when the rest of the world, even what was left of her family, had shunned her.

“Hello.” John lifted her chin with their clasped hands. “Penny for your thoughts?”

She shook her head and swallowed the emotion caught in her throat.

Donna turned the music down. “Wonderful, everyone. I have one last thing planned for today’s lesson. Intro to the square dance.”

John groaned.

“Now, John.” Donna’s exasperated look made Emily giggle.

She quickly silenced herself. “Oh,” she said as she gazed into John’s eyes. “I’m not a giggler.”

He raised a brow with a look around, then took her hand and hurried her out the side door.

“John Vega, you need jackets!” Donna called out behind them, amusement and exasperation mingling in her voice. Then Emily could hear her clap her hands, and the music, muffled by the closed door, filtered out behind them.

Emily tried to put the brakes on, but John only laughed. “As the fifth couple, we’re odd man out, anyway. Come on.”

And he didn’t let go of her hand, which made her feel like a ridiculously happy schoolgirl on a date with her high school crush. She’d never had one of those either, so this was completely different territory.

John slowed as they took a path toward the barns.

The quiet in John’s world was so different from the quiet in hers. She was used to waves crashing on the shores, people in the shop downstairs, and summers filled with tourists.

Wind in the trees was about the only sound she could hear right now. The breeze cut through her clothes, but as they approached the barn, the wind died down and blocked the worst of the cold. She stopped to listen.

He turned to her. “What?”

“It’s so peaceful here.”

He shrugged. “Not always this quiet, though. We’re headed into winter, so…everything slows down.”

She watched him talk, watched the way his lips moved, and saw something in his eyes that snatched up all of her good intentions. Nerves lit in her stomach, but she’d never backed away from what she wanted before. Not even when she wanted to kill a man.

Now, she wanted to kiss one.

“What?” John whispered, as if he could sense her desire. He stepped closer and ran the back of his finger down her cheek. “I want to know you.”

Emily leaned in and softly touched her lips to his. One hand of his was on her shoulder, gently cupping and barely touching; the other one was firm on her arm. He took the kiss deeper, increasing the pressure and moving his mouth over hers.

It sparked something in her, and she began to nibble, testing the taste of him. A slow exploration that was making her heart pound. And then he nipped at her bottom lip and soothed it with his tongue. Invitation or not, she swiped at him with her tongue as her arms circled him, held him tightly.

And even better, he held her, making her forget the cold of the chill fall day in the mountains. She loved the feel of his arms, circling her shoulders, securing and wrapped around her head. When his continued the warm, wet embrace of his lips and mouth open to hers, she hummed in pleasure. Her hands twisted in the back of his shirt.

He eased back and took a breath that drew the air from her lungs.

“Emily,” he said.

She kissed at the corner of his mouth then rubbed her cheek over the stubble that had grown in the few days they’d been here. She liked this rough-and-tumble, country-boy look on him. “I want you, John.”

Her boldness must have surprised him, because he chuckled, low in his throat, but held her tightly again. “Yeah,” he replied. “Ditto.”

When he kissed at the point below her ear then trailed those kisses down her neck to the curve of her shoulder, she moaned. He ran his thumb along the underside of her breast, sending flutters of desire through her.

Too abruptly, John pulled away and sucked in a breath of desperation. He gripped her shoulders with hands that a minute ago were caressing her body into sweet arousal. “I can’t. Right now, I can’t.”

Shock, a dousing of cold water, drenched her, and she opened her mouth to speak.

He kissed her silent. “I want you, Emily. More than anyone I’ve ever met, I want you.” His words softened her indignation.

“But?”

He cupped her face. “I want more. I want it all. I want you and a lifetime.”

A sound of disbelief escaped her. She stepped back. He was crazy. “You don’t— You can’t— We just met!”

He shrugged. “I can’t explain it.”

“Well, try.” Frustration and anxiety flooded her, making it hard to think. Why?

You don’t trust yourself. The thought permeated the anxiety and obliterated it. Fuck the doctors, the therapists. She was happy. She was ready to move on. And she would do anything to move on and into a bed with John Vega, even if it was temporary. But he wanted more.

He’d kissed her like she was the center of the universe. He held her like she was the only woman he’d ever wanted. And that scared the ever-living crap out of her.

“I feel like I’ve been waiting for you for two years.”

“So you’re infatuated with a fantasy. You didn’t know me then, either. Did you find me attractive?”

He squirmed a little. “Yes.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, great. The tall, blond, blue-eyed shooter has attracted the attention of the male of the species. Gee. You’re the first. I never thought there would be one like you.” Her throat closed on the sarcastic, mean words. She turned away and walked to the partially open door of the barn.

She couldn’t believe it. After two years, she was going to cry—finally—and it was going to be over a stupid thing like this man, who thought—Emily squeezed her eyes shut and cleared her throat—she was special.

Who was different and kind.

A nurse.

Her very opposite.

Of course, if they did hook up and find some kind of fantasy-ever-after, they could live a life with her shooting people and him fixing them right up. Oh, yeah. She was out of her mind.

“Do you know what I saw first?”

She turned to him, shook her head, and leaned back against the rough wood on the side of the barn, suddenly too tired for this conversation, for all the happiness that came with knowing John.

He’d taken a soldier’s stance, no apology or give. His eyes were so serious. “I saw you. I saw how you felt after taking that shot. The agony I saw in your eyes ripped through me. And I had to know—no, needed to know the woman who could feel so strongly about a mistake that was never her fault.”

Denial shot through her. “I shot that child,” she cried out, pressing her fist against her chest.

“No one could have known or seen those events played out,” John said, frowning at her. “You did your job because that is what we are trained to do—”

The shrill of a phone cut him off. They stood facing each other, both breathing hard, both wound up by unexpected emotions.

The phone sounded again, and realization hit her. She knew that ringtone. She grabbed her phone from her pocket and answered. “Eddie, what’s the matter?”

“Place is burning, love.” His voice seemed strained. “You better get back home.”