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His stare snapped back to her.

“Not until I met this really moody artist.”

“I’m not moody.”

She smiled. “He was drinking all alone in this rundown bar. I ran up to him, and he offered to take me somewhere safe.”

“I told you to contact the sheriff.”

“This is my story.” She shrugged away his interruption. “He took me to his place. Carried me inside when I fell asleep, and he left a screwdriver by the bed so that if I woke up, I wouldn’t be scared. I’d have a weapon close by to defend myself from…from whatever threat there was.” Because Remy hadn’t even known why she was running at that point.

Thattruth was something that had blasted through to her as she stood beneath the warm spray of the hotel’s shower. Remy might have learned about her grandfather and the safe later, butthe first night, when she’d been a complete stranger to him, he’d just helped her. “My artist made breakfast for me the next day. He—youtook care of me. Better care than anyone has in a very long time. And when the fake FBI agent came to the door, you never hesitated. Youstilldidn’t know about my connection to Fabian, yet you were protecting me.”

He sat up, too, but didn’t pull the covers with him. The sheets pooled near his waist, leaving all his wonderful abs exposed. “Where was I?” She’d just gotten distracted.

“You were trying to say you loved me.”

“Right.”Focus.“My moody artist protected me from the fake FBI agent, and then he called in some backup. When the real bad guys closed in, you used your own body to protect me.”

His eyes narrowed.

“After the shot was fired, you ran across the room and literally jumped on top of me as you slammed me down behind the couch. I’d frozen because I had never been shot at before. I guess most people have a fight or flight response, while I have afreezeresponse.”

“Work on that,” he growled.

“I am.” Back to business. “You didn’t know whether or not another shot would come. I’m not so sure you even cared if you would get hit. You just rushed toward me.”

Once more, he focused on the blank wall. “Couldn’t let you get shot in front of me.”

“Why not?” A deliberate test. “Isn’t that something that a criminal would do?”

His lips tightened.

“Abadguy?” she pushed. “Would he care?”

“I knew you were Fabian’s granddaughter by that time. You’re no good to Preston if you’re dead, and you’re no good to me that way, either.”

“But for different reasons.”

His dark eyes darted toward her.

“For different reasons,” she repeated, more certain this time. “He only wants to use me. But you want to keep me safe.”

“That’s what you’re going with? You think you love me because you’ve decided I’m not using you?”

“This is why I love you.” She motioned toward him.

He frowned. “Uh,this?”

“The very fact that you’re sitting here, telling me that you don’t deserve love. That you’re trying to convince me you’re evil and that I’m better off without you. You’re so wrong.” Now she put her hand on his chest. Right over his heart. “I told you once that I trusted you from the first moment we met.”

“I told you that was a bad plan. Or, if I didn’t tell you, I should have.”

She smiled at him. “You can’t have love without trust.”

“You don’tknowme. Not the things I’ve done. Who I’ve had to become. I’m not the man you need.”

“I’m not asking you to love me back.”


Tags: Cynthia Eden Romance