Taken by Storm

What she actually wanted was to go to sleep, then wake up and find it was all a dream. Rolling over on her back, she stared up at the ceiling. Simone knew wishing, hoping or praying wouldn't change the fact that what she was experiencing wasn't a dream, but a reality as real as the man moving around her kitchen as if he belonged there. She closed her eyes, willing her mind blank, and within minutes she succumbed to the comforting embrace of Morpheus.

It felt as if she'd just closed her eyes when she came awake suddenly to find Rafe sitting on the padded bench at the foot of the bed. She popped up like a jack-in-the box. He stood up and came to sit on the side of the mattress; it dipped with his added weight. Lengthening afternoon shadows made it difficult for her to see his face.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Simone." Rafe's voice was soft and comforting. He'd come to her bedroom and, not wanting to startle her, sat on the bench, waiting for her to wake up.

She blinked once. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to ask you if you wanted something to eat."

He leaned closer, his warmth and scent sweeping over her; suddenly Simone felt smothered, trapped. Unconsciously she moved back against the mound of pillows propped against the headboard. She wanted to escape from Rafe, but there was no place to go. Was she just now undergoing delayed post traumatic stress?

She shook her head. "I don't think I'll be able to keep anything down."

"You're going to have to eat."

"I know." She closed her eyes for several seconds.

Rafe didn't think he would ever get used to hearing her husky voice. Not only was it sensual, but also hypnotic. "Are you a vegan?"

With wide eyes, she gave him an incredible stare. "No. Why would you ask me that?"

"There was no meat in your freezer."

Simone's expression softened. "I eat red meat three times a week, and this was my week to call in an order to the butcher."

"Do you pick up the order or have it delivered?"

"They deliver."

"That's going to change. The less company you have, the better."

She moved off the bed, walked over to a window and stared at the verdant landscape. Rarely a day passed when she didn't find herself in one of the greenhouses pruning branches, stripping wilted leaves from flowers or weeding vegetable flats.

"You mention company as if I have a steady stream of people traipsing through here. Aside from the butcher, there's only a courier service I use to deliver plants or flowers to family and clients."

Rafe left the bed and stood behind her. "What I want is to control the number of people you come into contact with."

Crossing her arms under her breasts, Simone turned and stared up at him. Blond or not, he was gorgeous. His features weren't too broad or thin, and his coloring wasn't washed-out, but a tawny gold that afforded him a look of being perpetually tanned. And when her gaze met and fused with his, she felt as if she were drowning in water the color of Ceylon blue sapphires.

"Why do I feel like a prisoner even though you claim I'm not one? You're wearing a gun, follow me around—"

"I'll try and make certain you don't see the gun," he said, cutting her off.

Exhaling, she managed a smile. "Thank you."

"What else is bothering you, Simone?"

"Why do you think something's bothering me?" she asked rather than answer his question.

"You're tense."

"Well, well, well," she drawled. "It looks as if my lawman is also a therapist." Her mood changed quickly. "I'm more than tense, Raphael Madison. What I am is scared. When I woke up this morning I never would've imagined that I'd see someone that I know almost murdered, or that a marshal would take up residence in my home and he would become a constant reminder that my life is not my own, that every phase of my existence is to be shadowed for heaven knows how long."

Rafe curbed the urge to pull Simone into his arms to offer her tangible protection. "I can't tell you not to be afraid, but what I need is for you to trust me. I've been protecting witnesses for ten years and I've never lost one. In fact, no program participant who follows security guidelines has ever been harmed under the active protection of the Marshals Service."

Simone smiled in spite of her predicament. "You sound like a recruitment ad."

"You think?" he teased.

She nodded. "I know."

He extended his hand. "Come with me."

Placing her hand in his, Simone felt the power in the fingers that closed over hers. "Where are you taking me?"

"We're going to the kitchen."

"It's too late for lunch, so I suppose it'll have to be an early dinner."

"What are you cooking?" Rafe asked.

Simone stopped suddenly, causing him to lose his balance before he managed to regain his footing. "You came to get me because you want me to cook for you?"

"For your information, I don't need you to cook for me."

"You cook?"

He nodded. "Some."

"How much is some?"

"Enough." He started walking, pulling her gently along as they descended the staircase.

"Where did you learn to cook?"

"I decided to learn when I went to college. It was either eat ramen noodles or go hungry."

"What's on tonight's menu?" Simone asked.

"Do you eat seafood?"

"Yes."

"I bought lobster tails, so I thought I'd make lobster over linguine."

Simone's smile was dazzling. "Talk about luck. I get a bodyguard who cooks."