Sweet Seduction Shield(97)

Thinking of my daughter I glanced over and saw Enchanted was nearing the end. I sat stunned for a second, unsure if I should let the emotion, I was beginning to feel, in. Daisy looked so happy singing the last song along with her favourite animated friends. I wanted her to always feel this content and safe and alive.

Could it really be our ticket? Could the blasted thing actually be good for something in the end? I'd always thought it would mean disaster for McLaren, would condemn Rick, and could mean Daisy and my deaths. I'd never dared hope for more.

I wanted to embrace that burgeoning sensation, that had started in the middle of my chest and spread out as Ryan had become more and more excited. I wanted to feel it fill me up, melt the ice that had surrounded me for so long, and enjoy the burn like a bright sun.

I wanted to. Dear God, I wanted to.

Instead I sucked in a deep breath, brushed my jeans clean, and headed to the kitchen to start dinner.

Twenty minutes later Ryan found me.

Dinner hadn't been started, but there wasn't a speck of dirt in that kitchen to be seen.





Chapter 28


In Your Dreams

Ryan stood in the kitchen doorway and watched me for a good two minutes. He didn't say anything, he just watched. Like he so often does. Not judgementally, but as though he's trying to see things from my point of view, see what makes me breathe, pant, beg for more. Or in this case, what makes me find an old toothbrush and detail clean the grout between the tiles with bleach.

The kitchen smelled like a chemical factory, my fingertips were red; I hadn't been able to find rubber gloves.

Ryan took it all in silently, then slowly walked over to breakfast bar and sat down.

"There's frozen pizza in the fridge, Abi threw a Hawaiian and a Supreme in, not sure what we'd like, I guess."

My scrubbing slowed down, my vision began to widen, and my breathing started to settle.

"You choose. You know what Daisy would like," he added.

I turned the tap on above the sink and washed my hands, then without saying a word walked to the oven and switched it on. I stared at the orange light next to its dials for several seconds, then took a deep breath and spun back to face him.

He held my gaze, his eyes drawing me in. They said, You OK?

I nodded.

"You sure?"

I shook my head.

"Want a hug?"

I bit my lip.

"At least I know what to buy you for Christmas," he said, as he slipped out from behind the counter and walked across the space to reach me.

"What?" I asked, looking up at his face as he got closer.

"Gloves." His lips quirked slightly at the edges. "And cleaner that smells better than bleach."

I let him wrap me up in his big arms and pull me against his chest.

"You can get lemon-pine smelling ones," I offered.

He made an argh! sound.

"Lavender?"

"Hmmm."

"There's even orange."

"I could go orange," he declared.

"OK. Orange."

"Marie?"

"Yeah?"

"Dominic was with a QC, an old school buddy, when I phoned." I held my breath. Queen's Counsel, a senior lawyer. Someone with a bit of legal clout. "I told him what we found. Dom's good friend is approaching the Crown Prosecutor right now on your behalf. They're... cautiously optimistic. But in legalese that's down right excitable. Dom thinks the Crown won't have a choice but to agree to their terms. He expects to be able to give us an answer in about an hour's time."

His hands ran up and down my arms, as though chasing goosebumps, but I don't think he was consciously doing it.

"It's almost over, Tiger."

I didn't know what to say. I didn't think I could say anything. I held on tight and just breathed. Ryan let me. Giving me, again, exactly what I needed to survive.

"Shall we have some dinner, then get Daisy to bed," he suggested. "Even if we get an answer tonight, there's no point heading in until the morning. I want Nick on standby for extra security for you and Daisy when we do."

I nodded, needing to do something to keep my mind off what the QC was saying on my behalf to the Crown Prosecutor right now. Needing to avoid all the what-ifs and what-could-be. And needing to keep my hands off the toothbrush.

I slipped the pizza in the oven and watched as Ryan poured us both ginger beers, he held a third glass up.

"Daisy?"

"She loves ginger beer."

"Girl after my own heart," he declared, and a little more ice melted, a little more of the room came back into focus. And a little more of my body - respiration, heartbeat - became mine.

Dinner wasn't exactly strained, Ryan kept up an easy banter, engaging Daisy, trying to engage me. I tried to keep up, for my daughter, for him. He had Daisy in fits of giggles, which made my lips smile even if the rest of me was hanging in some kind of stasis. But it was hard. This was only one hurdle of many, but it was, in my mind, the biggest.