Christmas on the Run by Shirlee McCoy

Author:Shirlee McCoy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin Enterprises, Australia Pty Ltd
Published: 2017-11-23T05:00:00+00:00

EIGHT

Three in the morning was as good a time as any to think things through, and Carly was thinking about a lot of things.

For example: when a person had been living on her own terms for most of her life, a week was a long time to live on someone else’s. A week was also a long time to wait for a best friend to wake up from a coma. It was a long time to keep a son home from school.

A week, which usually flew by, was a long time when most of your life was on hold.

And hers was, because she’d agreed to move into Dallas’s house, share a room with her son, let a group of people she didn’t know take charge of her life. She’d asked for help, and she’d gotten it. Not just from Dallas. Several members of HEART were staying at the house and offering round-the-clock protection. They told her where she could go and when. They decided who would escort her. For Zane’s sake, she’d been doing everything they asked.

Anything to keep him safe.

She sighed, pushing aside the covers and easing out of bed. The floor creaked as she walked across the room and checked on Zane. He was sleeping soundly. Just like always. It would take more than her opening the door for him to rouse, but she moved quietly anyway, shuffling across the room and putting her hand on the old glass doorknob. She stood there for a moment, listening to the old house settling, the walls sighing. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have believed the house was empty.

But, of course, she did know.

Aside from Dallas, two HEART operatives were there. If they were following the pattern they had every other night, one of them was sitting in the living room watching live feed from exterior security cameras. The other was on the couch nearby, sleeping or reading or doing whatever security specialists did when they weren’t watching monitors. Dallas was in his room. Straight across the hall. If she opened her door, she’d see his.

She knew that just like she knew what he looked like first thing in the morning when his eyes were still red-rimmed from sleep. She knew how he looked with a coffee mug in his hand and with his hair mussed from his evening run. She knew the sound of his voice, his laughter, his deep-throated bellow when he was playing David and Goliath with Zane.

She knew him, and she was pretty certain he knew her. They’d spent nearly every waking hour together this past week. Her personal bodyguard was what he called himself.

She called him a complication that she didn’t need and a craving that she couldn’t seem to ignore. Every morning, she decided that she would ask someone else to accompany her to work. Every evening, she promised herself that she’d be in her room before he came back from his run. Neither of those things ever happened. Her fault. Not his.

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