A sinfully sexy novel of romantic suspense about a woman whose
psychic gift drives away the man she loves—and years later draws
him back to her…
By her third cup of coffee, Taige figured she was awake enough
to sit down, maybe watch some tv, or try a book. She picked up a
trade paperback she’d grabbed on impulse at the airport in
Birmingham but instead of curling up on the couch, she headed
out to the hammock in the back yard. She could read for a while,
then maybe get some housework done.
If she worked hard enough at that, did it long enough, she could
exhaust herself to the point that the dreams wouldn’t come. It
was either that–or dig out the merlot.
Taige was getting damn tired of drinking herself into oblivion.
With caffeine buzzing through her system, she settled down on
the hammock. But she hadn’t even made it past the first chapter
before fatigue came crashing down on her. Her mind started to
wander away from the story, daydreams intruding on reality and
she never realized she was drifting off.
The caffeine in her system, the cold shower, none of her
attempts to stay away made a bit of difference under the weight
of her exhaustion. She fell asleep with the mid-morning sun
shining hot on her face and when the book slid from her slack
hands and hit the ground, she didn’t noticed.
“You push yourself too hard,” he murmured as he leaned down and
pushed a few wayward strands of hair back from her face.
His voice had changed over the years, deepening just a little.
His face had changed some, too, but he was still just as
beautiful to her now than he had been when she was sixteen and
he had come running to her side the night Joey and Lee had tried
to rape her.
She didn’t know where Cullen came from, just that one second she
was alone and then she wasn’t. They were outside and Taige was
still lying on the hammock with Cullen standing over her and
staring at her with dark, unhappy eyes.
In some part of her mind, she panicked. She knew that she’d
fallen asleep and now he was here. Now she’d have to face him,
face the memories she tried to so hard to bury, and the longings
that had never faded. But the rest of her? The rest of her was
so happy to see him, she figured that if he crooked his finger
at her, she would willingly strip herself naked and plant her
butt in his lap.
The idea had a lot of merit, but Cullen seemed more interested
scowling at her than making love to her.
“Figures,” she muttered. “Even in my dreams, you’re going to be
a pain in the ass.”
“You’re one to talk.” He glared at her and Taige had a feeling
he wasn’t impressed with what he saw, somebody far too skinny,
far too tired, and now scarred to boot. The midriff tank and low
rising shorts she had pulled on earlier didn’t cover the ugly
scar low on her belly. It had faded some, no longer the angry
red it had been a few years ago. The scar tissue was darker than
rest of her skin, calling attention to it and belatedly, she
tried to cover it.
But Cullen wouldn’t let her. He crouched down by her side and
wrapped his fingers around her wrist, pulling her hand away so
he could press his lips to it. A shiver raced through her. “You
worry me,” he whispered, his breath dancing across her skin like
a faint, teasing caress. “You don’t eat. You hardly sleep. You
drink too much.”
Tensing, she tried to move away from him. Cullen wouldn’t let
her, though. He ended up crawling into the hammock with her,
cradling her up against him. He made it seem easy and Taige lay
there wishing the damn thing would flip them out onto their
butts. “I eat enough. And I drink because I don’t want to dream.
I hardly sleep because I don’t want to dream. You don’t like it,
then stop showing up in my dreams.”
He sighed and when she looked up at him, she saw that familiar
look of frustration, worry and want. It hurt to see that look on
his face. He was just like the ghost of Rose Taige had conjured
up out of her loneliness. Nothing more than a figment of her
imagination and the love she thought she saw on his face was
nonexistent.
These dreams weren’t any more real than his love for her had
been. She knew that, so seeing him looking at her like she was
the center of his world was like plunging tiny, needle sharp
shards of glass into her skin.
