Bracing himself against the deep, dark stirrings that sultry scent caused, he moved the camcorder and tried not to think this was her room. Where she’d slept. While he’d been thinking of sleeping with her.
Hundreds of books, perfectly arranged, lined the bookshelves. A row of cosmetics occupied the left-hand side of the bathroom sink. All perfectly neat. All Paige.
When he finished recording and descended the stairs, Zach felt like someone had just set off a bomb inside his chest.
A tall, bulky blond waited on the first floor, hands in his suit pockets. Cody Nordstrom and his crimson tie. “Quite a mess you got here, Detective,” he said conversationally.
He pocketed his camera. “You’ve seen her?”
“Introduced myself. I handed her my card.” He shot him a long, dry smile. “Though I suspect she’d rather take yours.”
“Where is she?”
His friend stuck his thumb past his shoulder. “Study. She’s a quiet one.”
And when Zach turned to the adjoining room, he saw her.
How could he not? How could he not see Paige? She was beautiful, and fragile, and she was real. So real his eyes hurt.
He took a step into the room, and another, feeling as if he were expanding under his skin like a helium balloon. He had hoped, and imagined, and if he was truthful, he might have even prayed, but still he had never expected to see her again.
But now Paige Avery was home. And she was breathing the same air he was. And her lips—dear God, just finish me off— were still the stuff of heaven. Plush and pouty, shimmering pink.
She sat on a green wing-backed chair by a floor lamp, a business card in one hand, her cell phone in the other as she busily punched in some numbers. A pretty white blouse with a lacy collar contoured her small waist and discreetly dipped between breasts he’d kissed a thousand times in his mind and a precious few for real. Her hair was a deeper shade of red than he remembered, cut attractively into bangs that fell across her forehead and curled behind her ears, and her features were sleeker, more refined. Still so lovely. So damned lovely, all of her.
His hand settled on the grip of the Glock at his hip, then he realized he did not know why he grasped it. He did it when he got an uneasy crawling up his spine, or a tingling in his stomach, and he did it now when he felt . . . open. Vulnerable.
“Maybe she’ll talk to you,” Cody said at his side.
Zach nodded, indicating he would speak with her, and his teammate left the room. It had been years, and it had been hell, and he still dreamed of her face seven years after he’d last seen it. Had dreamed of this moment.
For two thousand and six hundred days.
Strange, all the things he’d thought he’d do— haul her into his arms and kiss her until her toes curled, promise to never let anyone hurt her, threaten to make her regret it if she ever, ever thought of leaving again— he did none of that. Just sought her eyes for something. Recognition. Remembrance. For her to look at him.
Look up, baby, look into my eyes and know who I am.
And then she turned. Her gaze was like a spear slammed straight through his heart. There was nothing on her face. No fear. No excitement. No smile of welcome. Nothing at all.
She stored away her phone in a small brown purse, and her eyes ventured down his body, skimming the T-shirt, the jeans, lingering slightly on the gun, and at last returning to meet his gaze.
He held his breath, waiting for . . . just waiting. For a smile perhaps. A whisper that said all he craved to know. His name, God, let her say Zachary.
But still she stared.
And he stared.
Sucker punched by those eyes. A light, worn blue, no longer shining with innocence, but wide and lost and killing him.
“Paige.” His throat closed around his words. “I need to ask you a few questions.”
She sat up straighter, her eyes flaring wider, shoulders tensing. As if he were a giant mastiff without a leash, she warily watched as he pulled up a chair across from hers and lowered his body onto the seat.
A thousand questions tumbled inside him, questions from the cop and questions from the man and questions from the boy who’d loved her.
He propped his elbows on his knees, leaning forward, gentling his voice.
“Where were you when this happened?”