After drying off, she traipsed across the bedroom naked to the still-packed suitcase lying open at the foot of the bed. She tugged out clean undergarments, pajama bottoms and a Don’t Moose with the Boss graphic T-shirt and slipped them on.
Like a nicotine-addicted smoker, her fingers automatically went to the bag containing her late-night snack. Wrenching open the plastic, she unraveled a string of strawberry flavored licorice and bit down on the waxy treat as she strode to the window.
No halo of light pierced through the darkness above the tree line. Instead of finding solace in the chapel, Zeke sought a blue devil oblivion. If only she could have found another way to settle the matter of the sword’s ownership. One that wouldn’t have ended in imprisonment or bloodshed but would have allowed Zeke to finally bring the heirloom home.
She released the licorice to let it dangle from her mouth as she continued nibbling away at the end. Even though it had been a long day, she wasn’t sleepy and, for once, reading didn’t appeal.
Maybe she’d finish packing. Nails scraped across her heart, stealing her breath. Maybe not.
Sighing, she turned away from the window and found a large masculine frame silhouetted in her open door.
Liv suckedin a sharp breath and a bit of licorice shot to the back of her throat, forcing an involuntary cough. The now gooey candy rocketed out of her mouth and landed between them.
A wave of heat climbed up her throat.
Thank goodness she hadn’t turned on her bedroom light, preferring the gloom after spending hours in dazzling brightness. The knowledge didn’t stop the flush from stinging her ears.
Zeke didn’t so much as twitch.
Had he knocked? Called her name? If he had, she’d been too lost in thought to hear.
Squinting through the dim moonlight, she noted his once crisp Bond elegance looked as if a drunken hurricane had attacked it. His coat, shoes, and socks were gone and his tie hung loosely around his neck. The unfastened top buttons of his shirt revealed a V of tanned, golden flesh.
Two squat glasses dangled from his strong fingertips. This was not an innocent pause at her door to say goodnight before he ambled on to his own rooms. He intended to linger.
Liv breathed in through her mouth, afraid to engage any more of her senses. One was already burning at the sight of him. She blinked hard to hold back the inferno.
“May I?” he asked in a surprisingly normal voice. No sign of anger, no hint of frustration. How many more acts of violence against the fireplace had it taken to smooth out his edges?
Liv hesitated a moment before nodding.
He stalked inside, shutting the door with the heel of his foot and shooting down her notion about the healing qualities of breaking things. Emotions still churned inside him, and she was now alone with him in a room that suddenly seemed too small.
He held out a glass of sloshing liquid. “You look like you could use one, too.”
Taking his offering, she cradled the tumbler between her hands but didn’t drink. Not only did she not care for the taste of hard liquor, the stuff had the uncanny ability to knock her on her ass.
Not Zeke. He downed half of his in one gulp.
Another wave of guilt swept over her. “I’m sorry about the longsword. I know how much it meant to you.”
He began a slow circuit around her room, stopping every so often to inspect the few personal belongings she hadn’t yet packed. “You couldn’t possibly.”
“Pardon?”
“It’s more than an heirloom.” He paused near a framed picture of Brodie taking off on his electric blue bike after she’d removed his training wheels. He traced a thumb over the frame and murmured, “It’s a talisman, a symbol.” A momentary pause, then, “My family’s lifeline.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I, really. Though I can’t help but believe—”
He cut himself off, as if embarrassed to go on. His finger fell from the frame.
“Believe what?”
Finishing his drink, he set the empty glass on the desk and faced away from her. The moon shone on his features as he gazed out the window, highlighting a fragility she’d never witnessed there before.
He closed his eyes a moment before he spoke in a tear-roughened voice. “That a three-foot hunk of metal could help me keep my family together.”