She shivered at the memory.
It dawned on her, as it had after the crisis on the roof, that being a cop in charge of keeping someone else safe was a whole lot different than being the one directly threatened. Once the adrenaline of the chase had disappeared and she’d lost the man in the crowd, panic had set in, but now, back at Rafe’s, she wasn’t scared: she was angry.
She changed into her pajamas and climbed under the covers. Outside Rafe’s bedroom, she heard noises from the kitchen. She wondered if he’d sleep in here again or if he was angry enough at her to use the spare room. She wouldn’t blame him if he did, but she’d like it a lot more if he put his feelings aside and came in, if for no other reason than to keep her company. His big bed was cold and lonely without him.
She turned over to shut off the lamp on the nightstand when she heard a knock at the door.
She turned back around, turning the light on. “Come in.”
Rafe stepped into the room. “I wanted to check on you before I turned in.”
“I’m fine,” she said.
Although looking at him all sexy and disheveled in his unbuttoned jeans and faded T-shirt, she was anything but. She was needy and aching for him to hold her.
She bit the inside of her cheek. “Are you really going to sleep in the other room because of what I said earlier?”
“Friends with benefits might suit your lifestyle, but I don’t do meaningless sex, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise just to make you feel better. So, yes, I’m going to sleep in the other room,” he said, meeting her gaze with a cold one of his own.
Too bad she knew him so well. Rafe wasn’t as cool as he pretended. Fire burned in his gaze, anger warring with desire.
He wanted her. And he hated himself for it.
“We agreed on no strings,” she said, the words sounding weak and pathetic, even to her.
Rafe shook his head. “We didn’t agree on anything except that we wanted each other.” He’d never agreed to keep his feelings out of the mix.
He’d known going in that would be an impossible proposition.
Alone in his large bed, wearing nothing but one of those flimsy, barely there outfits she preferred, she appeared soft and vulnerable. He knew better. The woman had a heart of steel to be able to deny there was anything more going on between them.
Not that it mattered. Even now, when he was so angry he wanted to shake her, he was still drawn to her in every way imaginable.
“The alarm company is coming first thing Monday to upgrade the system. But for now at least it’s set, so you can sleep soundly,” he said, changing the subject.
“We need to talk about what happened tonight and what we’re going to do about it.”
“We have all day tomorrow. Between the fire and the warning you received tonight, there’s no way we’re going back to the festival tomorrow. We need to wait until all the visitors leave and things get back to normal. Then we’ll be able to spot someone who doesn’t belong here.”
She nodded. “True. And I guess that’s a plan in and of itself.”
“I guess it is.” He gripped the doorknob.
It was time for him to leave before he did something stupid, like climb into bed with her and allow her to pretend he meant nothing to her at all.
“Good night, Sara.”
She met his gaze with a silent, imploring look.
It took all his strength to turn around and walk away.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE SOUND OF SARA’S voice drew Rafe out of his room early Sunday morning. He hadn’t slept the night before, tossing and turning for more reasons than he cared to think about now. Needing coffee, he headed for the kitchen and found her sitting on a kitchen chair, fully dressed for the day in white jeans, a loose purple tank top and bare feet.
She held the telephone to her ear.
He didn’t have to make coffee since a fresh pot sat on the counter. A warm, fuzzy feeling crept into his chest before he ruthlessly squelched it. She didn’t belong here. She wasn’t making herself at home and enjoying his place; she merely needed his protection, and he’d offered her a safe place to stay. End of story.
He poured himself a cup of coffee and left it black, needing the hard jolt of caffeine, before settling into a chair at the table.
“I’m fine. What has the blogger said now?” Sara asked whoever was on the other end. “Break it to me gently.”
As she listened to the reply, her eyes widened and her mouth opened in a perfect circle. “That’s so wrong! It’s an invasion of privacy, that’s what it is.” She sighed and waited a beat. “No, you’re right. I can’t get worked up about what I can’t control.”
Rafe drew a long sip of the coffee. At least she’d made it strong, just the way he liked it.
“I’ll keep in touch. Bye, Dad.” She disconnected the call and hung up the phone, turning to face him. “My father,” she said needlessly.
“Everything okay at home?”
She nodded, glancing at him warily, obviously trying to judge his morning mood.
He wasn’t in the mood to give his feelings away. “What’d the blogger say that had you so upset?”
“Something about how smart we are using a festival to cover for our secret rendezvous,” she said vaguely.
He narrowed his gaze. “And? There had to be more considering how upset you got.”
She sighed. “Fine.” Rising, she picked up her coffee cup and walked to the sink to rinse it out. “The blogger said from the looks of things at the dance the other night, we’d found love, and she highly recommends the upstate New York air to whoever is looking for the same.” She slammed the water faucet off and dried her hands, not turning to face him as she spoke.
“I guess the blogger doesn’t know everything,” he said and let out a dry laugh.
“I guess someone at the dance reported in.” She ignored his sarcastic comment.
“Probably. I’m sure Angel wouldn’t have done it again.”
Sara nodded. “I agree. My father said he’d keep me updated with any new blog posts.”
“Good.”
Silence descended.
Not the comfortable, relaxing silence they normally shared, but an awkward, tense quiet.
They had at least twenty-four hours before the town emptied out and they could go out knowing he’d recognize someone who didn’t belong, and Rafe couldn’t stand being cooped up in the house with this kind of tension.
“What’s your father like?” he asked, curious about the man she’d been speaking to. The single father who’d raised her to be so afraid of commitment.