Breaking Free: A Colorado High Country Crossover Novel, Pamela Clare [i can read book club .TXT] 📗

the hallway when she stepped out of the bathroom. He caught her around the waist, her body soft against his, her hair like silk beneath his palm. “We keep bumping into each other.”

She looked up at him through wide eyes, the minty scent of her toothpaste making him want to kiss her. “I … uh…”

For a moment, neither of them moved, his gaze locked with hers.

He could tell by the way her pupils dilated and her body tensed that she felt it, too, this attraction between them.

You’re playing with fire.

“Do you … uh … need anything?” There was a slight quaver in her voice.

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that he needed her tonight, but he let her go, stepped back. “No. Thank you. I’m turning in.”

“Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight.”

She walked to her room and closed the door behind her.

Well, he had passed that test.

Damn.

He walked to his room, grabbed his toothbrush, and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, his gaze fixing on his reflection.

Idiot.

He could have kissed her, and she would have melted in his arms. It would have been sweet. But then morning would come, and things would be awkward between them. There was no chance that they could be together, so there was no point in crossing the line and getting physical. Strange that he could feel so drawn to a woman who wasn’t right for him.

Remember Elena?

Yeah. Maybe it wasn’t strange. Maybe it was a pattern. Jason had felt drawn to Elena, and she’d turned out to be the enemy.

Moral of the story? Don’t let your cock make decisions for you.

He finished brushing his teeth, walked back to his room, and stripped down to his boxers. Then he turned out the light and crawled beneath the covers.

He willed himself to relax, to let the sexual tension ebb away—or tried to, anyway. Images of the day passed through his mind. Winona, wet and naked in her bathrobe. Winona, listening as he interpreted the sign, dark hair caught in the breeze. Winona, excitement on her face when Jack invited them to stay at the ranch.

He had no idea how long he’d been sleeping when something woke him. He sat up, listened. Was Winona crying?

He got out of bed, slipped into his jeans and a T-shirt, opened his door, and stepped into the hallway.

A stifled sob.

He walked to Winona’s door, knocked. “Winona, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Ah, hell.

He stood there for a moment, trying to decide whether to let her lie stand. “I know that’s not true.”

Footsteps.

The door opened.

Winona stood there in her sleepshirt with the pink sheep, her face wet with tears, misery mixed with embarrassment on her pretty face. “I woke you, didn’t I?”

“That’s okay. What’s wrong?”

She leaned against the doorjamb, her dark hair tangled around her shoulders. “Just a bad dream. I have nightmares about it sometimes.”

“About the time the bastard attacked you in your clinic?”

She nodded, sniffed. “The dreams always seem so real.”

Jason understood a thing or two about that. “Why don’t I make you a cup of tea or warm some milk, and we can talk?”

“I should be making you the tea. You’re my guest.”

“Hey, you told me to make myself at home, remember? Follow me to my kitchen.”

Winona sat on the sofa with a fleece throw around her shoulders and a cup of chamomile tea in her hands, while Jason put wood on a fire that had burned down to glowing coals.

He closed the wood stove. “That ought to warm things up.”

“Thanks.” She sipped her tea. “Sorry again to wake you.”

“Don’t apologize.” He sat down on the other end of the sofa, one long leg tucked beneath him so that he faced her. “Some nightmares are a lot worse than others.”

That was the truth.

She wasn’t sure where to start. “It’s hard for me to talk about this.”

“If it makes it any easier, Zach told me what happened.”

“He did?” That was a huge relief.

“He didn’t go into the finer details, but he told me enough.” Jason’s brow furrowed, his gaze dropping to the sofa for a moment. “Truth is, I brought it up with him. I hope that doesn’t upset you.”

She shook her head. “Of course not. You two are friends. You’re both federal agents, and you both know me. After what I told you today, it’s understandable that you’d be curious.”

“Not just curious, Winona. You and I haven’t known each other for long, but I consider you a friend. I hate it when bad guys hurt good people.”

She got the feeling he’d seen a lot of that—and not just with his parents. “What did Zach tell you?”

“He said some fugitive came into your clinic to get you to treat the burns he got from the dye pack on a money bag. He said the bastard forced you to help him at gunpoint, made all kinds of awful threats, and then injected you with a lethal overdose of ketamine. He said you were sure you were dead.”

Winona nodded, her throat going tight. “He came through the front door. I was in the back with my friend Bear, who’d brought in an orphaned fawn. He barged in on us, gun pointed straight at us, and demanded I help him. I didn’t have any choice.”

“No, you really didn’t.”

“He had bad second-degree burns on one hand, and it had become infected. I told him he needed to be seen at a hospital by a burn specialist, but he jammed the barrel of his pistol into my temple and told me to shut up.”

“What did this friend of yours, Bear, do?”

“Bear is a big guy with a big beard, but he suffered brain damage from a fever as a child. He has the mind of a little boy. He’s one of the most wonderful people I know, but he couldn’t do anything to help. He was terrified.”

“You felt like you needed to protect him.”

“Yes.” Winona’s stomach knotted at the memory of terror. “I put a topical anesthetic on the man’s burns and