Читать книгу Cold Case Recruit - Jennifer Morey - Страница 12
ОглавлениеBrycen let the blinds close after peering through the crack he’d opened. Nothing stirred in the street. Still, Drury had a stalker before he’d even begun his investigation.
“Junior, what’s it going to be tonight?” Drury called from the kitchen.
“I dunno,” Junior answered absently, hands busy with a video game.
“You want to go play catch for a while before dinner?” She seemed to slip that one in.
Didn’t Junior like to play ball, or play outside? Brycen found that curious.
“No.”
“You’re not doing homework.” She’d slipped that in, too.
“Don’t have any.”
Drury frowned as though not believing him but didn’t press as she flipped a grilled cheese sandwich in the pan. “Then come in here and sit at the table. Dinner’s ready.”
Junior grumbled but got up and came into the kitchen. She deposited a plate of grilled cheese in front of him. A glass of chocolate milk came next.
Brycen hadn’t had a grilled cheese sandwich since he was about Junior’s age and wasn’t sure he wanted to break the drought. He was a cute kid, but Brycen would rather not have any kids around while he investigated a murder. And not because they disrupted the peace and quiet.
Going into the kitchen, he sat before the plate she’d set out for him, a glass of chocolate milk tapping down afterward. He saw her silky black hair float down from one shoulder, dark lashes covering what he knew to be striking blue eyes. She sat down with another glass of chocolate milk, oblivious of the fact that not everyone would consider this meal ordinary.
Junior drank his milk and set the glass down, looking at Brycen, or more like dissecting him. When Brycen didn’t look away, Junior twirled a superhero figure over his plate and then flew him toward Brycen, going back and forth in front of his face, leaning over the table to get as close as he could, which only reached halfway across the table.
Putting the superhero down and wearing a smug scowl only a kid could pull off and still be cute, he took a few big gulps of the chocolate milk. When he put the glass down, a chocolaty rim covered his upper lip. Then he dug into the basket of crispy french fries, all the while making sure Brycen still watched. Showing up the adult.
“So, Brycen. Why don’t you tell us a little about yourself?” Drury asked with a peculiar glance at Junior. “Since you’re going to be staying on our couch, we should get to know you.”
He supposed he forfeited his right to keep things professional when he invited himself to stay in her house. “What would you like to know?”
“Why’d you leave Alaska?”
She would have to start with that question. “I applied for a job in Chicago.” And that was about all he’d say. Kadin had earned more of his respect having not said anything about what he’d uncovered.
She stopped chewing a fry. “You just applied for it?”
“I got a call from an old friend. The climate is pretty close to Anchorage. Days are longer here in summer.” He watched Junior fly the superhero over his plate and out across the table toward Brycen, probably imagining clipping his nose.
“The climate is what made you move?” Drury asked, clearly accustomed to her son’s play tactics.
Junior shoved french fries into his mouth, eyes on Brycen, seeing if he’d get a rise out of him.
“No, the job made me move,” Brycen said to Drury.
“Do you like Chicago?”
“I like the big city. It’s a nice change.”
“No family? Wife? Kids?”
“No.”
“Pets?” She smiled.
“I’m gone too much. Crimes don’t happen on a regular work schedule.”
Junior stuffed a giant portion of his grilled cheese sandwich into his mouth and chewed with his mouth open. When he finally regained control of the mass, grease oozed out from the corners of his mouth.
“Noah Jr., use your napkin.” Drury picked up the crumpled cloth napkin and handed it to him. “You’re getting grease on that superhero.”
Putting down the figure, Junior laughed as he wiped his mouth and looked at Brycen. Besting him. Gaining attention through what he perceived as funny but shocking behavior. He didn’t know nothing shocked Brycen anymore.
“It laughs,” Drury said, smiling.
Junior made a face and then resumed stuffing more fries into his mouth.
“If you had a job in Chicago, why did you start your crime show?”
She sure asked a lot of pointed questions. “The opportunity arose.”
Lifting her sandwich, she paused with his short, uninformative answer. “Were you born in Alaska?”
She must have gotten the hint that he didn’t welcome talk about his reasons for leaving Alaska or what had sent him into show business. “No. Colorado. Moved to Anchorage after college when I started working law enforcement.” There. That ought to be enough to tide her over.
Taking a bite of her sandwich, she studied his face while whatever thoughts she had about him danced in her mind.
“Have you ever thought about getting out of Alaska?” he asked.
The blink and lowering of her eyes revealed that she’d considered it and maybe the issue caused her some trouble.
“No. My family is here. Junior’s grandparents...” She got a faraway look, turning her head and abandoning her sandwich. “It wouldn’t be so bad if I wasn’t alone. I mean, I’m not alone, just...I miss the companionship.”
A murderer had torn her family apart and still held her hostage. She didn’t have the heart to move Noah Jr. away from his paternal grandparents. He was their only living link to their son.
“Would you move if you could?”
She took some time to think on that. “No, I don’t think so. It’s like I said. Sometimes I feel so alone.”
He could relate to that. He just would not engage in a discussion over why. “Do you have a big family?” They didn’t need to talk about death.
“Not so big. My parents live here and I have a sister. She moved away. California. She’s a lawyer.”
“A lawyer and a bush pilot.” Interesting combination. He chuckled. “I bet you have proud parents.”
“They could have done worse. What about you?”
“My parents still live in southern Colorado. They’re divorced.” After almost thirty years, they finally decided they weren’t good for each other. “I’m an only child.” Probably the only time they’d had sex was when he was conceived.
Junior began making grunting, singing sounds as he ate, swinging his feet and bobbing his head while he flew his superhero. “Uh, uh, uh-uh-uh-uh...”
“What’s it like not having any brothers or sisters?” Drury asked with a glance at her son and slight elevation of her eyebrows.
“What’s it like having them?” he countered.
She laughed. “Active. My dad flew. Not professionally, though. He runs a local hardware store, one of the oldest in the city. My mother inherited it when her parents died. My dad worked there, so he ran it from then on. Some of the old-timers still call it a sporting goods store. He sells a lot of that still, to this day.” She kept smiling with the good memories that must bring. “He took us many places. Haven’t been to Europe, though. That’s one place I’d like to visit someday.”
Brycen had never thought about where he’d like to travel before his end came. Travel wasn’t important to him. He liked to read or watch documentaries about the world. He used to love the mountains, but that all changed when he left Alaska. If he had to pick somewhere he’d like to go, he’d choose a beach, he supposed. He’d taken a woman to the Caribbean once. That had been okay. Women loved beaches.
“They like to stay active. They’re older now, but they still hike and camp and go on trips to fun places.”
“How did they meet? You said your mother was from New York.”
“She went on a cruise. She always wanted to see Alaska, so when she was in college, her parents helped her scrounge up enough money. The ship docked in Anchorage and she went in my dad’s store. They stayed in touch after that. When my mother graduated, she moved here and the rest, as they say, is history.”
He smiled, wondering if her parents’ relationship was as storybook as she made it seem.
“We all joke that New York must have made her the active spitfire she is, or was. She was a white tornado when I was a kid. I think that’s what my dad loved about her. He worked hard, but on his time off he liked to pick up and go, usually somewhere remote.”
“Is that what drew you into piloting?” Her dad had been a pilot. That must have influenced her.
Junior had stopped his grunt-singing and chewed on a fry, eyeing his superhero. Apparently he’d given up trying to shock Brycen.
“I wanted an education, and at the time, I didn’t consider bush piloting very professional. Air force had a nicer ring to it, and serving the country had a certain... I don’t know...” She lifted her face in thought. “Noble appeal.”
“What do you like most about flying?” He never understood why anyone would want to fly a big metal tube through the air.
“The freedom,” she said, looking upward dreamily. “Soaring through the sky. Everything looks so different from up there. You can see so much more of the land than your own little patch of it in everyday life.”
“Freedom?” Did she mean nothing but air could stop her? No train tracks, no other cars...?
“Yeah. The freedom to go wherever I want, to not follow any roads. To see more of the world. It’s hard to explain. Maybe what I really love is the thrill.” She laughed a little.
“Like the air force would have been?”
“Yeah. I dreamed of flying a fighter jet when I was in high school.” She lifted her eyes in mock wonder.
Maybe he could see her as a fighter pilot. More likely she’d thought doing so would be cool as a teenager.
“And then reality stepped in?” he asked.
She breathed a short laugh. “It’s a far cry from solving crimes.” She sipped her chocolate milk. “Is that what made you decide to start a crime show? The reality? It had to be more than a good opportunity.”
She had a quick mind. Sneaky. “Yes.” But then, it wouldn’t take much to figure that out. Detectives were human. Murder wasn’t cheerful.
Junior had finished eating and had taken to staring at Brycen. He had his head on his palm, elbow on the table, idly twirling his superhero. Brycen didn’t look away and Junior showed no sign of backing down. He decided to have a little fun with the kid.
“Do I have something in my teeth?” Brycen asked, baring his pearly whites. “A piece of spinach?”
“No,” Junior said. “We didn’t have spinach.”
“Something in my hair?” He fingered his hair. “Horns?”
Junior laughed. “No.”
“Oh, good. You had me worried there for a second.”
“You’re weird.” Junior got off his chair and asked his mother, “Can I go play my game now?”
“What about your homework?”
His head dropped to one side in annoyed frustration. “I don’t have any.”
“Noah Jr...?”
“I don’t,” he whined. “I did it at school. I don’t have any, Mom.”
“All right. Go ahead, then.” She watched him go to the floor in front of the TV. Crossing his legs, he picked up the controller and began playing.
Then she turned to him. “You were pretty good with him just now.”
“Asking if I had horns in my hair? What else can you do when kids stare?”
“I didn’t expect it, that’s all.”
Why hadn’t she? He didn’t want to know. That might lead down a path he’d rather not take.
“His grades are slipping?” Brycen said, not really a question.
Drury sighed, her full, sexy lips pinched a little, forming a dimple on her right side. Then those blue eyes pierced him with a confessing look. “They have been for a while now. I might have to hold him back a year.”
He didn’t have to state the obvious. The poor kid missed his father and didn’t understand why he was gone.
“He used to get top grades. He used to play catch with his daddy almost every day. Sounds so corny, but it’s true. He did homework and played Little League. Now...he isn’t interested anymore.”
Losing a dad would do that to a kid. Not unusual as far as Brycen was concerned. But he wondered if Drury felt left out because her son didn’t want to play catch with her the way he had with his father.
“I wish there was something I could do to help him deal,” she said. “I’ve taken him to counseling, but that didn’t seem to help. He just misses his dad so much. They were very close.”
Brycen would be close to his son if he had one. What father wouldn’t? “Maybe you should try doing things differently instead of trying to keep everything the same.”
Drury leaned back against the chair, drawing his attention unwittingly to her breasts pushing the material of her shirt tighter. “Like what?”
He had to regain his aplomb. “Like not playing catch.”
“How would not playing catch help his lack of enthusiasm?” She continued to scrutinize him.
“You’re not his dad. That’s something he did with his dad, not you.”
Her mouth opened and whatever she’d have said she didn’t. “Are you saying I should start baking brownies with him?”
He grinned. “Why not?”
“Wait a minute. Are you criticizing me?”
Analytical by nature, he didn’t include criticism in the talent. “No.” He wasn’t sure why he’d spoken his thoughts. Normally he engaged as little as possible with children or their mothers. “You don’t seem like the type who likes to bake brownies.”
She smiled. “No?”
“No. More like...bush pilot who makes grilled cheese sandwiches and french fries for dinner.”
“You don’t like grilled cheese?”
“I do. It’s just a kid meal, especially with the chocolate milk.”
“It’s too much work to make something different for me. Sorry. I should have asked what you wanted.”
“You like kid meals, just admit it.”
She sipped more of her chocolate milk, watching him with light in her eyes, telling him she responded to him as a man. Their banter had warmed the kitchen.
“Would you have taken this case if you knew I had a son?” she asked.
He should have seen that coming. She could see he had an issue with kids, one she didn’t understand and one he wouldn’t explain. “Your son, or any other child, had nothing to do with my decision.”
Flattening her hands on the table, she rubbed the surface, unaware she’d done it. She must be contemplating how to ask him something. “Why did you agree to come here and help me?”
“Your husband was an Alaska State Trooper. Law enforcement.”
She propped her chin on her hand, elbow on the table. “So it was a sense of duty?”
Why did his reason matter? “Duty. Anger. If I could stop them all from killing cops, I would. But I have to settle for one case at a time.”
What had led him into show business differed from what had driven him from Alaska. He’d gone into law enforcement because he wanted to make a difference. He’d only made a mess of his personal life in Alaska. That old, haunting darkness threatened to surface. Brycen wouldn’t let it. He’d put that part behind him long ago.
“You didn’t come here for a good story to put on your show?” Drury asked.
“Every case I solve is good for my show.” He didn’t include that every show kept him from witnessing death and the reminder that no matter how many cases he solved, he’d never feel he’d won. Justice was done, and that made it rewarding. When he first became a detective, he’d believed what he stood for. Now he wasn’t sure. Ever since he’d left Alaska, his purpose seemed to have blurred.
“Not mine.” When he looked closer at her, she said, “I won’t agree to go on TV to tell my story.”
“You wouldn’t personally have to appear on the show.”
“I don’t want my story told. Period. It’s too real and it’s a private matter.”
Brycen calmed his initial disappointment. Her story would make a good episode for his show. But he couldn’t—and wouldn’t—force her or coerce her. At least, not aggressively.
“Most people who’ve gone through what you have benefit from telling their story. Sharing it helps them heal and it also helps others.” Not those who craved the entertainment, those who had gone through something similar.
“Not me. I could never go on air and talk about Noah’s murder, and I couldn’t bear to hear it told.” She pushed her plate away and folded her arms on the table with a sigh.
“If I solve his murder, that’s what I’d like to do. Take his story to my show. Featuring solved cold cases could make another criminal think twice before killing someone.” He held back the nagging thought that more than his show and avenging a State Trooper drove him back to Alaska. He’d left to forget some things, but he couldn’t deny they had influenced his decision to take this case, more than solving the murder crime of a trooper, more than a story for his show. He’d left something unfinished. Kadin had rubbed a raw nerve coercing him to take the case, but deep down, maybe he wished he could put his past to rest.
Shattering glass interrupted.
Brycen stood in an instant and drew his gun from its holster at his hip, hidden by his jacket. Drury sprang off the chair and rushed to her son, grabbing him and taking him to the protection of the living room wall.
A rock with a piece of paper fastened with a rubber band rolled to a stop against the refrigerator.
Drury told Junior to stay put and moved back into the kitchen, going to the rock.
“Don’t touch it.” He held out his hand to stop her from reaching the rock. “Stay here!”
Brycen ran to the back door and raced into the backyard. It was still light out but drizzling. He saw movement in the trees that bordered Drury’s house on a quiet street not far from the coastline. He ran after the moving figure, dodging thick vegetation.
In a clearing, the man aimed a gun and fired. Brycen ducked behind a tree trunk and then peered out. The man vanished in the trees.
Brycen chased after him, catching a glimpse of a hoodie. When the man veered to the right, he cut a path straight to him. The man glanced back, seeing him gaining. He unsteadily moved the gun over his shoulder while he ran at top speed. His aim was off.
Crouching, Brycen heard the bullet hit a tree. He dove for the man’s feet, tackling him.
The man rolled and Brycen knocked the gun off just before it fired. The man had painted his face black. More disguise than his hoodie. The man swung his foot, and the heel of his boot clipped Brycen on his forehead. He fell backward, rolling in time to miss the next bullet.
Brycen drew his own gun.
The man turned and ran.
Brycen fired twice, missing both times through the thick stand of trees. Climbing to his feet, whipping blood from his forehead, he ran after the man. He was very familiar with Anchorage but not this particular neighborhood. There was a park nearby. Possibly the man had left his car there and hiked to Drury’s house.
At the park, he saw no one. The weather had chased everyone away and the man hadn’t parked his car there.
Getting wet from the steady rain, Brycen jogged toward the street. Nothing stirred except the squeal of tires in the opposite direction from Drury’s house. Brycen turned in time to see the Subaru that had tailed them earlier swerve around the corner. Brycen would never catch him.
He jogged back to the house.
Drury opened the front door for him.
“He got away.”
Junior stood behind her, staring wide-eyed up at him as he entered. Drury scanned the neighborhood before closing and locking the door. Passing Junior, he went into the kitchen where the rock still lay. “Do you have a plastic storage bag?”
While she went to go get one, he used some cooking prongs to move the rock. The paper banded to it said “Stop before it’s too late.”
He met Drury’s worried face as he put the rock in the bag she held open. “We need a safer place to stay.”
“Where can we go?” Drury asked.
Brycen looked over his shoulder. “I have a cabin. Close enough to town but remote and secure.” It was the only piece of Alaska he’d held on to. And the only reason he had was that he’d bought it just before things turned sour for him.
“You’re hurt.” Drury touched his arm, seeing his face.
The cut stung where the stalker had kicked him.
She took his hand and led him to the bathroom, Junior following, no longer scared and now curious.
Drury indicated Brycen should sit on the closed toilet seat. He did and she bent to retrieve a first aid kit from under the sink. Opening the lid, she dug out an alcohol wipe while Junior’s small hands took out a Band-Aid.
Holding the Band-Aid out for his mother, Junior eyed Brycen, undecided as to whether he’d welcome him into his circle.
Drury finished dabbing the small cut and threw that out before taking the Band-Aid.
Junior stuffed his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans and stared at Brycen, a much different stare than at the table. “Looks like you get Captain America.”
“I can do Captain America.” He winked at Junior, whose eyebrows went down in distrust.
“Don’t worry, I don’t bite,” Brycen said. “I might seem like I do, but I don’t.” Did he sound like he was trying too hard? He felt like he was. He didn’t understand why Junior liking him was so important.
“You don’t smile very much,” Junior said.
Drury paused in her care of his cut to look at Junior through the mirror. “Junior...that wasn’t very nice.”
With a sullen look up at her, he said, “He doesn’t.”
Brycen smiled then. The kid had a way about him. Just now he felt he’d gotten a glimpse of the boy he’d once been, before tragedy crumbled his young world. A more talkative boy. A more curious boy. And something about Brycen had him very curious.
As Drury smoothed the bandage over the cut, her soft touch made him aware of other soft parts in contact with him. Her leg against his. Her breast as she leaned to throw out the paper from the bandage, long, shiny hair falling forward.
When she rose, her face passed in front of his. Their gazes locked. Heat quickly followed. A mounting sense of dread came over him. This wouldn’t end well if he continued to desire her. He had more than one compelling reason to steer clear of women like her. He shifted his gaze to the boy. And that.
Drury straightened. “Junior, why don’t you go pack?”
The boy didn’t move, still eyeing Brycen uncertainly.
“Junior?”
The boy looked up at her and then reluctantly turned and went up the hall.
“It usually doesn’t take him this long to get used to people,” Drury said. “He seems especially guarded with you. He responds to you, but then he withdraws.”
“He hasn’t decided whether he likes me or not.”
“Why is that? Do you think he picked up on your stiffness when you first met him?”
He didn’t say what he really thought. Junior sized him up, measuring him against his idea of a father figure. He might not be aware he did this, but Brycen felt it. Acknowledging that would take him down that dreaded path. The “what if” path.
“Maybe.”
“Do you like kids?” She moved to stand directly in front of him.
“I’ve never had kids of my own.” He wished she’d leave this topic alone.
Leaning over the sink, she washed her hands. “You don’t have to have kids of your own to like them.”
“What makes you think I don’t like them?”
Drying her hands on the towel hanging from a hook on the wall, she shrugged. Then she scrutinized him through the mirror. “Why were you so uncomfortable when you met him? What is it with you and kids?”
This conversation was over. Brycen stood. “Let’s get going.”
Turning from the sink, she frowned her confusion as he passed and followed him out of the bathroom. “Touchy subject?”
He stopped and turned and she bumped into him. Bounced, really. All her soft parts against his harder chest and abdomen. And her hands had landed on him. She pulled back as though startled.
He felt it, too. The sparks came out of nowhere and set them both on fire. Of all the women he’d met and considered dating, Drury didn’t fit the mold. She represented what he most sought to avoid. Single mom. Serious baggage. How could he compete with a dead husband? One she’d hired an elite investigation agency to solve his cold case.
“Look.” He dove right in. He had to stop this from heating up any more. “I’ve picked up on some attraction between us and I just have to get something off my chest.”
“Okay.” She took a step back.
“I don’t do marriage and I don’t do kids. You should know that up front.”
“Wh...what?”
Clearly, she hadn’t expected him to say something like that. “You need to understand that about me before this goes any further.”
Outraged, she put her hands on her hips. “Before what goes any further? You’re jumping to conclusions a little, don’t you think? Marriage?”
Maybe, maybe not. “I just want it out in the open.” And he didn’t want to talk about his past in Alaska.
She gaped at him, slack-jawed. “That you don’t do marriage or kids.”
“Yes. This is a business relationship. We don’t get involved. And if we...you know, then I’ve warned you.”
No marriage. No kids. That included Junior. He had nothing against the boy; he just couldn’t be part of her family unit.
“Well, for your information, I don’t want a relationship anyway. My husband was murdered. What makes you think I’d want to get involved with you?” She passed him.
Maybe he’d spoken too soon. Maybe he should have waited. “I’m sorry. I just thought I should tell you. I mean no disrespect.”
With a peculiar glance back, she went into the kitchen and started cleaning up before packing for their trip.
He helped her clear the table in awkward silence until she calmed down. He could tell she’d calmed, because she stopped slamming dishes.
“Why don’t you think you’ll never get married?” she asked at the sink.
“I don’t think. It’s a choice I’ve made because I don’t believe in it. Marriages never last. My parents were married almost thirty years and should have divorced after ten. Humans aren’t meant to stay married to the same person their entire lives. So why bother getting married?”
“You base your decision off your parents’ marriage? Did they love each other?”
“Sure. My mother loved that he worked and she didn’t have to and then she loved the alimony payments until she remarried. My dad loved a woman who didn’t complain and always had dinner ready and the laundry clean.”
She loaded a dish into the dishwasher. “You don’t make them sound very likable. Do you ever see them?”
“Every Christmas.” He threw out some trash, finding an automatic lid trash container by the counter.
“I bet you aren’t this charming on your TV show.”
He chuckled. She meant the exact opposite. He came across as an ass when he talked about marriage. Some people didn’t like hearing the truth. “My mother wasn’t happy. My father wasn’t happy. They convinced themselves early on that they were. And maybe they were at first. They liked each other. But then after a few years, they wasted too much time trying to make their marriage work. I just wish they wouldn’t have waited, that’s all. When they could no longer convince themselves they were happy, they should have ended it.”
She worked as she absorbed what he said. “You must feel like every memory of them together was a lie.”
“Some of them, yes. They basically played roles for my benefit. The good, loving mother who doted on her husband. The steady, kind, disciplinary father who took care of his wife. Now that I can see what phonies they were, it makes me bitter. I’d rather they fought and threw things. At least it would have been real.” He handed her a glass from the sink, which was full of about a day’s worth of dishes.
She took it from him. “You must not like your parents much.”
“Oh, no. Contrary. I love them both very much.”
She breathed a laugh. “Really.”
“Yes, especially now that I know who they really are.”
“Is that what you think you have with women? Real relationships?” She put the glass in the dishwasher.
“Unconditionally.” He truly believed in sticking with the truth no matter how ugly or harmful. Maybe that was the homicide detective in him. Maybe he’d learned from his parents.
With the water still running in the sink, she rested her hands on the counter and turned her head toward him. “Do you believe in love?”
This qualified as personal, but he didn’t object. She needed to understand. “I believe we’re meant to love lots of people, not just one. And I don’t mean that it’s okay to be unfaithful. Monogamy is important while the relationship lasts.”
“That’s not love.”
“It’s a form of love.” He rinsed a plate and handed it to her.
She took it. “No. That’s impulsively going from one relationship to the next and not holding out for the one that really matters.”
But the one that really matters didn’t exist. To him, every woman he was with mattered, not just one, exulted one. One, superior woman was the stuff of fairy tales. Like Cinderella. Pure fantasy. A wonderful, magical dream. She walked into that ballroom alone and everyone stopped just to watch her come down the stairs in her fairy godmother gown that outshined all others. Something like that would never happen in real life. A man didn’t find a woman who made all others seem plain and insignificant.
But he didn’t think he could make Drury understand.
“It’s love to me,” he said.
She put the plate in the dishwasher. “No. That is not love. Clearly you’ve never been in love.”
“I only know what works for me.” He handed her another plate.
“Well. Thanks for the warning, then.” She put the plate in the dishwasher and glanced at him from behind a sexy curtain of hair.
He didn’t say she likely idolized her husband in death and merely thought she had true love with him. He wouldn’t argue over this. He wouldn’t have a chance with her. He’d scared her off. Well, good. He didn’t need his ideals put to any kind of love test anyway. Especially since he also had to put aside the nagging feeling that his attraction to her rose above anything he’d ever experienced before.
His Cinderella...?
