under Lindy’s eyes. She was as pale as death, as though recovering from a bad bout of flu. And much thinner than he remembered. Too thin. “You look terrible.”
She laughed, and the sweet, lilting sound wrapped itself around his heart, squeezing emotion from him. Dear God, he loved Lindy. So much of the accident remained clouded in his mind. All he could remember was hearing a horrendous noise and seeing a ball of fire come hurling toward him. Everything had happened so fast that there had barely been time to do anything more than react. All he knew was that he didn’t want to die. He wanted to go home to Lindy. His Lindy. His love.
The next thing he remembered was pain. Terrible pain. More acute than anything he’d ever experienced. He knew he was close to dying, knew he might not make it, and still all he could think about was Lindy. Dying would have stopped the agony; slipping into the dark swirling void of death would have been welcome if only it would end the torment, but Rush chose the pain because he knew it would lead him back to Lindy.
“Have you looked in a mirror lately?” she asked, her lips twitching with a teasing smile. “You’re not exactly ready to be cast as Prince Charming yourself.”
“You’ve been sick?” he pressed, his tongue faltering over the words. It was a struggle to keep awake, the pull back to unconsciousness greater with each second.
“No, just worried. It took them nearly forty hours to find you after the accident and until then you were listed as missing.”
“Oh God, Lindy, I’m…sorry.”
“I’m fine now that I know you’re going to be all right.” Again her fingers touched his face, smoothing the hair from his brow, lingering as though she needed the reassurance that he was real.
“How many…dead?”
“Seven. Three on the flight deck and four on the bridge.”
Rush’s jaw tightened. “Who?”
Lindy recited the names and each one fell upon his chest like a boulder dropped from the ceiling. “…good men,” he said after a moment, and was shocked at how fragile his voice sounded.
“More than twenty suffered serious injuries.”
Rush felt himself drifting off; he resisted, but the pull of the tide was too powerful for him to fight. “How bad…”
“The burn victims are the worst.”
He nodded and that was the last he remembered.
When he woke again the room was pitch-dark. He felt a straw at his mouth and he sucked greedily. “What time is it?”
“Two a.m.”
“Lindy, is that you?”
“Do you need something for the pain?”
He shook his head. “No.” Her fingers curled around his own and he held on to her, savoring her touch. He slept again.
* * *
Lindy sat in a chair at her husband’s side. She’d tried to sleep countless times, but the rest her body craved continued to elude her. Just as she’d start to drift off, the horror of those two days of not knowing if Rush was dead or alive returned and snapped her awake. She’d come so close to losing him. Seven men had died. Honorable men. And Rush had come a hairsbreadth from making the count eight. The men who had died were husbands, fathers, lovers—and now they were gone.
Standing, she walked over to the window. Palm trees swayed in the late afternoon breeze. The sun shone and the ocean lapped relentlessly against the white, sandy beach. The flawless beauty of the scene should have soothed her troubled spirit, but it didn’t. Instead she felt a cold hard feeling settle in her lungs. It spread out, making her breathing labored and causing her throat to ache. Those men had died, and for what? Lindy had no answers, and every time she closed her eyes the questions started to pound at her, demanding answers when she had none.
“Lindy?”
She took a minute to compose herself, pasted a smile on her face and turned around. “So Sleeping Ugly is finally awake. How are you feeling?”
“You don’t want to know.”
Concern moved her to his bedside. “Should I get the nurse? She said if you needed something for pain, I could…”
“I’m doing okay.” His brows folded into a tight frown as he looked up at her. “You’re still looking like death warmed over.”
She forced a cheery laugh and decided to put her makeup on with a heavier hand before her next visit. “That’s a fine thing to say to me!”
“When was the last time you had a decent meal?”
She opened her mouth to tell him, but paused when she realized she didn’t know herself. “I’m fine, Rush. You’re the patient here, not me.”
He looked for a minute as if he were going to argue with her, but he didn’t. “If you’re not hungry, I am.”
“I’ll see what I can scrounge up.”
She returned a few minutes later, carrying a tray. But it was soon apparent that Rush had no appetite and had used the excuse of hunger as a ploy to get her to sample something.
* * *
Three days passed. Rush grew stronger with each one, and Lindy grew paler and thinner. She still couldn’t sleep—not more than an hour at a stretch.
A week after Rush arrived in Hawaii, Lindy strolled into his hospital room to discover her husband sitting up for the first time. His left arm was in a cast and hung in a sling over his chest. The swelling in his face had gone down considerably, and he looked almost like his old handsome self once more. Lindy paused and smiled, perhaps her first genuine one since she’d arrived in this tropical paradise.
“You’re looking fit.”
“Come here, wife,” he said holding out his one good arm to her. “I’m tired of those skimpy pecks on the cheek you’ve been giving me. I’m starved for you.”
Lindy walked across the room like a woman who’d been wandering in the desert and been offered a glass of water. Once Rush had his arm around her, his mouth claiming hers, she felt whole again. He smelled incredibly good and tasted of peppermint.
The fears and doubts that had been hounding her all week dissolved in the warmth of his hold. When he lifted his head and smiled, Lindy felt weak and breathless in his embrace.
“Lindy, dear God, I’ve nearly died, I’ve wanted to hold you so much.”
Angry, selfish thoughts flooded her mind, and she clamped her mouth shut. He’d nearly died, yes, but it was from a terrible plane crash and explosion that didn’t have anything to do with her. But when Rush directed her mouth to his, she was engulfed in his kiss, lost and drowning. Nothing else mattered. As his lips closed over hers, demanding and hungry, he reclaimed everything that had once been his: her heart, her body, her soul. There was nothing left inside her to protest. He owned her so completely, so unquestionably, that she hadn’t the will to say or do anything. All she could do was submit.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him, giving him her tongue when he sought it, taking his when it was offered. Their need for each other was urgent. Fierce. Savage, yet tender. Nothing else in the world made sense except this. Only the driving need Lindy felt to be a part of Rush.
Moisture appeared in the corners of her eyes and Rush sipped away her tears. He kissed her eyes, her forehead, her cheeks, her lips, and nuzzled tenderly at her neck while his fingers tunneled through her dark hair.
“Lindy,” he breathed. “My love, my own sweet love.” His long fingers brushed the wisps of bangs from her face and wiped away the last trace of tears, as though she was the most precious thing he had ever touched.
“I talked to the doctor this morning,” he whispered. “I’m going to be released