Reflected in You: A Crossfire Novel

to get it over with, “and I put up with it—went out of my way for it—because in that period of my life, sex was the only way I knew how to feel loved.”
    “He wrote a love song about you, Eva.”
    I looked away. “The truth wouldn’t make much of a ballad, would it?”
    “Did you love him?”
    “I— No.” I looked at Gideon when he exhaled audibly, as if he’d been holding his breath. “I had a crush on him and the way he sings, but it was totally superficial. I never got to really know him.”
    His entire body visibly relaxed. “He was part of a . . . phase? That’s it?”
    I nodded and tried to pull my hands free of his, wishing I could get past my feelings of shame. I didn’t blame Brett or any of the guys who’d drifted through my life then. I had no one to blame but myself.
    “Come here.” Gideon caught me by the waist and pulled me closer, tucking me against his chest again. His embrace was the most wonderful feeling in the world. His hands stroked the length of my spine, gentling me. “I won’t lie. I want to beat the hell out of any man who’s had you—you’d be smart to keep them the hell away from me—but nothing in your past can change how I feel about you. And God knows I’m no saint.”
    “I wish I could make it go away,” I whispered. “I don’t like remembering the girl I was then.”
    He rested his chin atop the crown of my head. “I get it. It didn’t matter how long I showered after I’d been with Anne, it was never long enough to feel clean.”
    I tightened my arms around his waist, giving comfort and acceptance. And gratefully accepting both in return.
    * * *
     
    The white silk robe I found hanging in the closet was gorgeous. It was lined with the softest terrycloth and embroidered with silver thread at the cuffs. I loved it, which was a good thing since it was, apparently, the only article of clothing for me in the entire house.
    I watched Gideon pull on a pair of black silk pajama pants and tie the drawstring. “Why do you get clothes and I get a robe?”
    He glanced up at me through a lock of inky hair that draped over his brow. “Because I’m the one who arranged everything?”
    “Fiend.”
    “Just makes it easier for me to keep up with your insatiable sexual demands.”
    “ My insatiable demands?” I headed into the bathroom to take the towel off my head. “I clearly remember begging to be left alone last night. Or was it this morning, after an all-nighter?”
    He filled the doorway behind me. “You’ll be begging again tonight, too. I’ll go make some coffee.”
    In the mirror, I watched him turn away and saw the darkening bruise on his side. It was low on his back, where I hadn’t had a chance to see it before. I spun around. “Gideon! You’re hurt. Let me see.”
    “I’m fine.” He was partway down the stairs before I could stop him. “Don’t take too long.”
    Guilt swamped me, and a terrible urge to cry. My hand shook as I ran a wide-toothed comb through my damp hair. The bathroom had been stocked with my usual toiletries, demonstrating once again how thoughtful and attentive Gideon was, which only emphasized my deficits. I was making his life hell. After all he’d already suffered, my issues were the last thing he needed to deal with.
    I took the stairs down to the first floor and found myself unable to join Gideon in the kitchen. I needed a minute to pull myself together and put on a happy face. I didn’t want to ruin the weekend for him, too.
    I stepped out through the French doors that led to the deck. The roar of the surf and the biting salt spray hit me at once. The hem of my robe whipped gently in the ocean breeze, cooling me in a way I found invigorating.
    Taking a deep breath, I gripped the railing and closed my eyes, trying to find the peace I needed to keep Gideon from worrying. My problem was me , and I didn’t want to concern him with something he couldn’t change. Only I could make myself a stronger person, and I needed to, if I wanted to make him happy and offer him the security he so desperately wanted from me.
    The door opened behind me, and I took a deep breath before turning to face him with a smile. Gideon came out with two steaming mugs gripped in one hand—one filled with black coffee and the other lightened with half-and-half. I knew it would be made perfectly to my tastes and delicious, because Gideon knew exactly what I liked. Not because I’d told him, but because he paid attention to everything