tried not to get angry, for he had every right to doubt her. She had


lied to him in the past.




"Why would Grace and Rebecca say they were there? " "You tell me. "


She thought about it a long while before venturing a guess. "Grace


must feel she has to protect me . . . She knows I'd do the same for


her, but I still don't understand why Rebecca would lie."




"She didn't lie, Jessie. She is our witness. Now go to sleep. I'm


tired, and I'm not in the mood to argue." She lay down and rolled to


her side so she could stare at the fire. Her mind was filled with


questions. Cole had sounded so certain Rebecca was the witness, and


she couldn't figure out why.




"Cole? " "Now what? " "I saw the man on the roof of the building in


Rockford Falls. . . . He killed Mr. York, and I tried to shoot him,


but I dropped the gun."




"I remember. What about him? " "I've seen him before, and I


recognized him." He let out a weary sigh. "Where'd you see him? "


"In the bank. His name is Johnson. Mr. Johnson. I watched him kill


those innocent people." CJ he told him everything.




She remembered every word that was spoken, every laugh, every scream.




As she related the sequence of events to him, beginning with her untied


shoelace, she remained dry-eyed and calm. Too calm, Cole thought, for


her voice was completely devoid of emotion. He didn't ask her any


questions, and when she was finished, she got up and walked to the


lake.




He didn't know if she wanted to be alone or not, but it didn't matter


to him because he was compelled to go to her. She stood with her arms


folded at her waist, her stance was rigid, and when he tried to put his


arm around her, she jerked away.




"Don't." Ignoring her protest, he moved in front of her, blocking her


view of the lake, and forcefully pulled her into his arms.




"I don't need you to comfort me, " she said angrily, and it was the


first show of emotion he'd heard since she'd told him the truth. He


was glad of it and continued to hug her tightly.




"But I need to, " he said softly.




She struggled to get away, and Cole finally let go.




"You don't understand. I was such a coward. I should have done


something, but I didn't do anything. I let it happen. I watched. "


She took a deep breath in an attempt to control herself and put her


hand out to ward him off when he took a step toward her.




"Okay, I'll agree with you if you want me to, " he said. "You should


have done something to prevent it. Now, tell me, what should you have


done? " She shook her head. "I don't know. I was so scared I


couldn't think. My God, when they first rushed into the bank, I was


worried about my stupid money. I should have . . . " "What? " he


persisted. "What could you have done? You could have died with


Franklin and the others. Is that what you feel guilty about? That you


survived and they didn't? Do you think you should have crawled out


from your hiding place and knelt down with the others and let them kill


you too? " "No, but maybe . . . if I had screamed, someone outside


might have heard . . . " "Enough." He roughly pulled her into his


arms again and was pleased because she didn't fight him this time.




"You couldn't have done anything."




"You would have, " she whispered against his chest.




"Yeah, maybe I would have, " he allowed. "If I had had a gun, but I


would have died. I couldn't have gotten all of them."




"But you would have tried. I didn't."




"Did you have a weapon to use against all of them? " "No, butţ" "There


wasn't a damned thing you could do, and somewhere in that head of yours


you know that's true." Trembling, she wrapped her arms around him and


held tight. "I want . .




. " "What, sweetheart? " he asked as he leaned down and kissed the top


of her head.




She tucked her head under his chin and closed her eyes. She needed his


strength tonight, and she desperately needed his comfort . . . and his


love.




"You should get some sleep, " he told her as he gently lifted her into


his arms and carried her back to the campfire. He laid her down and


knelt beside her, frowning at her with worry.




"You're going to be all right." He said the words, not so much to


convince her, but to convince himself.




He started to turn away then, but she grabbed hold of his hand. "Sleep


with me, " she whispered.




Outwardly he didn't show any reaction to her plea. Inwardly his heart


felt as though it had just fallen to the pit of his stomach.




"No, " he answered, his voice harsh, his need to touch her almost


overwhelming.




In the firelight, her hair had turned a vibrant red, and all he could


think about was threading his fingers through the silky mass and coming


down on top of her sweet, soft body. . . .




"It's out of the question."




"Just for a little while, " she begged.




"I don't want to be alone."




"You're not alone. I'm two feet away.




I'm telling you it's not a good idea."




"Why not? " "You want me to spell it out for you? Fine. I want to


stay with you, but I sure don't want to sleep."




"You want to make love to me."




"Hell, yes." His eyes had turned a deep intense blue, and the hand she


held had turned into a fist. "I don't want you to do anything you


don't want to do." She let go of him and rolled to her side, away from


him. "Good night.




" He didn't move. He knelt there, fighting a silent war for what


seemed an eternity before he finally gave in.




He stretched out beside her, closed his eyes, and tried to pretend she


wasn't there.




No matter what, he vowed, he wouldn't touch her. Granted, a man had


only so much discipline and she was definitely pushing him to his


limit, but she didn't realize what she was doing to him. She needed


him, though not in the physical way he wanted or needed her, he


reminded himself. She was feeling all alone and craved human


contact.




She was killing him. Her hair tickled his nose. Just as he was


brushing the silky strands away, she lifted up and pulled his arm under


her so that her head was pillowed against him. She smelled like roses


tonight, and he was suddenly reminded of home. That was it, he


decided. He'd think about all the things he wanted to get done when he


got back to Rosehill.




He couldn't come up with a single chore.




"Five minutes, Jessie. I'm only staying with you for five minutes. "


He grimaced over the sound of his voice.




She obviously wasn't upset by his gruff manner. She scooted against


him, until her back was pressed against his chest and her bottom


cuddled his groin.




A cold sweat broke out on his brow. This was hell, he decided, to be


so near the woman he craved and not be able to touch her. His only


saving grace was the thought that it couldn't possibly get any worse.




He was wrong about that. She wiggled against him and a bolt of white


hot longing shot through him.




"Don't move, " he ordered. "Just go to sleep." Evidently unaffected


by his harshness, she reached up to grab hold of his hand and pull his


arm around her waist. He couldn't stop himself from tightening his


hold and snuggling closer. His hand rested beneath the swell of her


breasts, and all he had to do was spread his fingers and touch her soft


. . .




The erotic picture was interrupted when she tried to turn in his


arms.




He had promised her five minutes. He must have been out of his mind,


but he had given his word, and so he began to count off the seconds.




Heaven help him, if he lasted one full minute without kissing her, he


figured he could last a lifetime.




He wanted a lifetime with her.




The admission stunned him. He realized he'd been ignoring the truth


for a long time, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd known, and


accepted. He could even name the moment he knew he loved her. It was


when that bastard, Johnson, was on the roof with his rifle trying to


kill her. Cole had never felt such rage before. As he raced toward


her, thinking he wouldn't be able to get to her in time, the


possibility of losing her had scared the hell out of him. In the


aftermath, he'd been so shaken with fear, he'd reacted with anger, not


love.




If this was true love, he wanted no part of it. Yet he didn't want to


ever let go of her.




It seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to kiss her


shoulder, the side of her neck, her ear. He kept telling himself to


stop this torment, but his senses were already responding. She smelled


so good and felt so soft.




Had five minutes gone by? Maybe she'd gone to sleep, he thought


desperately, and he clung to that hope like a man hanging from a rope


on the side of a cliff.




She tried to turn in his arms again. "Don't move, " he whispered.




"I want to kiss you good night." His heart soared at her shyly


whispered request. "No, " he snapped.




"Please? " He sighed into her hair. "If you kiss me, I swear I won't


stop. Now leave me alone and go to sleep." He made a mockery of his