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“Are you really here?” she asked, feeling immediately foolish.
“Feels a little unreal, doesn’t it?”
She nodded. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” He lifted her hand to his mouth, brushing his lips.
“I used to have dreams of you. That you were beside me again … sitting close enough that I could feel the warmth of your body by mine. Hear your breathing. And then I’d wake up and—” He let go of her hand and dropped his own hands to his knees. “Doesn’t matter. Here you are. Warm and breathing.”
She caught his hand, holding him in place. “Don’t go.”
He looked down at her hand on his. When he spoke, his voice was a low rasp. “Are you sure you want me to stay?”
She knew what he was asking.
“Know what I missed?” His voice deepened. Roughened.
Her heartbeat sped up immediately in response. When she spoke, her own voice sounded breathless. “What?”
“This.” He leaned forward, closing the space between them, and touched his mouth to hers.
Smoky Mountain Setup
Paula Graves
PAULA GRAVES, an Alabama native, wrote her first book at the age of six. A voracious reader, Paula loves books that pair tantalizing mystery with compelling romance. When she’s not reading or writing, she works as a creative director for a Birmingham advertising agency and spends time with her family and friends. Paula invites readers to visit her website, www.paulagraves.com.
For my chat pals, Kelly, Jenn and Donna.
Thanks for keeping me laughing.
Contents
The ligature marks on his wrists had long since healed, but the stinging phantom pain of the raw spots the shackles had chafed into his skin sometimes caught him by surprise. Odd, he thought, given the other injuries he’d sustained during his month of captivity, that those superficial wounds were the ones to continue tormenting him.
He’d had cracked ribs, for sure. A dislocated shoulder he’d been forced to reduce himself, since the rough men who’d taken him captive hadn’t cared much about his comfort.
Cade Landry had escaped on the thirty-first day of his captivity, and he’d been running ever since.
Given the icy chill in the air and the heavy clouds overhead threatening snow, he should have headed south to Mexico instead of wandering around the Southern Appalachians while he tried to figure out what to do next. He could be sipping cerveza on a beach somewhere, flirting with pretty cantina waitresses and soaking up the tropical sun.
It wasn’t as if he had any kind of life to get back to now.
And still, somehow, he’d never completely given up on the idea of clearing his name, though he’d spent the past several months avoiding the issue altogether.
No more. It was time to see if there was anything left of his life to reclaim.
Clouds overhead obscured the sun he’d been using as his compass, but he was pretty sure he was still headed west, which would take him out of these mountains sooner or later. Sooner if he was on the Tennessee side, later if he was in North Carolina.
Either way, he was heading for Purgatory.
Where she was.
You don’t know if you can trust her anymore.
Maybe not, he conceded to the mean little voice in the back of his head. But she was the best shot he had.
He squinted up at the gray sky overhead, enough sunlight still filtering through the clouds to make his pupils contract. Definitely still headed west, he decided, but he hoped he’d reach civilization sooner rather than later. He had to make a stop in Barrowville first. He’d made a point to shave that morning, to clean up and look his most presentable. Maybe he’d get lucky and somebody would give him a ride into town.
The money he’d hidden away before his abduction had still been there when he’d escaped, thank God, but months of living under the radar had taken a toll on his cash reserves. He needed