Donovans 01 - Amber Beach

understood all too well.
    “Good,” Jake muttered.
    He lifted his hand from her mouth and put her back on her feet. He could tell the exact moment she spotted his gun. Her breath broke and she looked up at him sharply.
    “Don’t worry, it’s on safety,” he said. It had been since he felt her breasts flattened beneath his forearm and her nice ass rubbing on his thigh. But he didn’t mention any of that. He had a feeling she wouldn’t want to hear it.
    “I’mI’m sorry,” Honor said. “I didn’t hear anything and I was worried that you were hurt.”
    “Just my feet.”
    “What?” She knelt swiftly. “Where? I don’t see any blood.”
    Jake’s breath came in hard and fast. Her hair was drifting across his skin. If she moved her head just an inch or two, she would be touching something a hell of a lot more sensitive than a bare thigh.
    His heart slammed. At this rate, she wouldn’t have to move at all. He was rising to her like a blind moth to a particularly hot flame.
    “Jake?” she asked, looking up. “Where does itoh!”
    “Don’t let it worry you.”
    “Why? Is it on safety, too?”
    He gave a crack of laughter and stepped back. “Go see if anything is missing.”
    “Doesn’t look like it from here,” she said under her breath.
    “Unless you want to be flat on your back in the dirt, go into the cottage.”
    She shot to her feet, embarrassed that he had overheard her. “Sorry. I’m a little rattled.”
    “So am I.”
    “You? Rattled?”
    He grunted. “If this keeps up, I’m going to start sleeping in shoes.”
    Honor winced in silent sympathy as he stalked down the path to the boat. Her own feet ached and stung from her barefoot run to the dock.
    Even knowing the cottage was empty, she hesitated before going inside. Adrenaline still coursed through her blood, making her shake. Or it could have been the temperature of the night air. She hadn’t noticed it until now, but the shirt she had pulled on at the boat—Jake’s shirt, in fact—let in a lot of breeze around the bottom. Beneath her usual nighttime T-shirt, her rear was frankly cold.
    Her hands were even colder. She could hardly feel the switch inside the door. When she finally managed to flip it on, she wished she hadn’t. The cozy little room looked like it had been turned on end and shaken.
    For the first time Honor really understood that the small sounds she had heard were those of an intruder ransacking the room, not the noise made by someone fumbling to get past the front door’s old lock. The knowledge that she had been asleep while a man systematically trashed the place not fifteen feet from her head made her feel sick. She crossed her arms over her stomach and swallowed hard. Then she swallowed again.
    “I thought that was my shirt,” Jake said.
    She made a sound as though she had been struck. Her knees began shaking.
    “Honor? Honey?”
    She tried to talk, couldn’t, and simply held on to herself as wave after wave of adrenaline and nausea swept through her.
    “Easy, sweetheart,” he said. “Did he hurt you?”
    She shook her head.
    “Aftershocks,” he said quietly, relieved. “Don’t worry. They don’t last long. It just seems like it.” He shot the dead bolt home and turned back to her. “Breathe in through your nose and out through your clenched teeth. It will help the nausea.”
    After a few attempts Honor got it right. By the time Jake had gone from room to room, making certain that the cottage was buttoned up, she no longer felt like throwing up. She was still shaking, though. When she stopped clenching her teeth, they chattered.
    Keeping a wary eye on her, Jake knelt and made a fire in the small fireplace. “Come over here,” he said when the flames started to dance. “It will help you get warm.”
    “C-can’t.”
    He wasn’t surprised. The way Honor’s legs were trembling it was a wonder she was still standing. He dragged the old couch close to the fire, grabbed a blanket from the bedroom, and went back to her.
    “Don’t be startled,” he said in a soothing voice. “I’m going to pick you up.”
    Even with the warning, she jerked when he lifted her.
    “It’s all right,” he said. “I won’t hurt you, honey. I’m just bringing you closer to the fire.”
    Her breath came out in too many pieces to be called a sigh, but she relaxed against him. Her cheek was almost cold against the bare skin of his shoulder. When he started to put her on the couch, she wrapped her arms around