“What makes Nik think I have his heart?” That question was uppermost in her mind.
Mikayla’s smile was soft when she glanced back at her. “I’ve only seen Jordan a few times, Tehya. Each time I’ve seen him, until these last weeks, he’s been tense, cold. But now, it’s like there’s something different about him. It’s Nik’s opinion he’s in love.”
No, he wasn’t in love, but she wouldn’t be the one to disillusion the little romantic.
Tehya looked into the mirror again. This dress was a beautiful confection of silk and dreams. It was the romantic heart that had envisioned it, that had created it.
But when it was all said and done, Jordan would walk away from her just as he had countless other women before her. He didn’t believe in love. It was an illusion as far as he was concerned.
“You know, Nik hasn’t told me what’s going on.”
Tehya’s head lifted as she stared back at the other woman.
Mikayla gave a little shrug. “I don’t just love my husband, I know my husband. He gave me a nice little story to tell anyone if they asked about the dresses I was making for you, who you were, who Jordan was, the whole nine yards.” She waved her hand expressively. “Then this morning he gave me another story about someone close to you dying. He promised me when he retired from whatever it is he was doing, that there would be no more missions. Then he came to me and told me you were in trouble and he had to help. Whatever that trouble is, Tehya, I want you to know, I make a very good friend. And I know how to listen.”
Tehya glanced away, her throat tightening with the tears she had refused to allow herself to shed.
“I had hoped I was hiding things better,” she whispered,
“I doubt anyone but another woman who’s in love, and feared losing that love, would notice,” Mikayla stated. “We’ve only met a few times, but I’ve never looked into your eyes that I didn’t want to cry myself. The worst thing you can do is cry alone. So, if you need a friend.” She gave a little lift of her shoulder, an endearing gesture of a woman afraid of overstepping a boundary, but one whose compassion knew only one way.
“Thank you, Mikayla,” she answered softly. “And I won’t forget the offer.”
She would never forget it, but she knew there was little chance of being able to take her up on it. She couldn’t allow herself to ever be caught again. That meant disappearing again and learning to ignore the hunger to put down roots, to own anything, to have friends, family … or the lover her heart longed for.
“Good. Now, show my awesome dress off tonight and tell everyone how totally unique and expensive I am.” Mikayla flashed a warm smile as she moved to the bed, grabbed her oversized workbag, and headed for the door. “And don’t be a stranger.” She stopped after opening the door. “I’d like for us to be friends, Tehya.”
Tehya gave a quick nod as she battled her tears again. She hated crying. She hated being on the verge of crying because it still puffed up her eyes and her nose and made her look washed out.
Which, she imagined, would be good for the overall impression of grief.
Breathing out roughly, she moved closer to the mirror, pulled at several curls until they draped over her shoulder from the jewel-encrusted clasp that held a mass of curls at the top of her head, allowing them to fall haphazardly around her head, to mix and mingle with the heavy strands that hadn’t been pulled up.
Rather like a Grecian goddess, she thought, as her fingers trailed over the tiny sequins that ran along the bodice of the dress.
Glancing at the clock, she drew in a deep breath and searched for her courage. It was a trick her mother had taught her when she was very young.
She closed her eyes and imagined Jordan this time, rather than a bird flying free. His smile, the sound of those deep, amused chuckles, the way he touched her, the way he held her.
And she imagined his courage, just as her mother had taught her to imagine that bird’s courage when it first took flight. How high it went, and how brave it must be. And how it wouldn’t survive if it couldn’t fly.
If she didn’t fly, she couldn’t survive.
And now, if she didn’t have Jordan, if he didn’t live and breathe, then there was no way she could bear life herself.
She would face whatever came tonight. She had no choice but that, to ensure Jordan survived. He had been targeted because of her. Someone had tried to kill him, and now he had to pretend to be dead.
Because of her.
Because she hadn’t had the courage to run when she should have.
Because she hadn’t had the courage to disappear in a way that would ensure Jordan never found her either. Now, tonight, she had to find the courage not to run, to walk into that party and to dare whoever or whatever had haunted her all her life.
She had never done that. She had always run, because she had always seen what happened to the strong, confident, self-assured military-trained men who had done just that in their attempts to protect her and her mother.
Her hand jerked up, covered her mouth and her nose as a sudden sob nearly escaped, as she felt something inside her beginning to crack, attempting to escape.
A vicious shudder raced through her, nearly obliterating her ability to hold back a wave of fury and blinding pain.