Chasing a Dream by Beth Cornelison Page A

senses, much the way his near-kiss had startled her. She raised a hand to touch her lips, remembering the soft pressure of his fingers there.
    He’d said her mouth was pretty. Warmth gathered in her chest and radiated outward, tingling in her limbs, muddling her brain. She should know better than to take his offhand compliment seriously, but his kindness touched a raw nerve, soothed her bruised spirit.
    Echoes of Randall’s rage, just one night before, filtered through her mind. In recent years, all she’d known from Randall was humiliation. She suppressed a shudder and chased the ugly memories away by focusing on Justin’s activity. He pulled a pair of white briefs out of his backpack and tucked them under his arm with the fresh jeans and T-shirt he’d already extracted.
    The corners of his eyes crinkled when he faced her. “Yo, Tess? You in there?”
    “Hm?” Snapped from her dazed examination of him, she met the amusement in his blue eyes.
    “And women accuse men of not listening.” He shook his head. “Do. You. Want. The. Shower. First?” He pinned her with a pointed gaze and curled his lips in a wry smile.
    “Oh. Uh . . . no, you go ahead.” She stepped over to the bed farthest from him and sank wearily on the edge. “You never did eat before. You must be starving.”
    Rubbing his lean stomach, he came around the end of his bed and headed for the shower. “You’re right about that.”
    Drawn by the motion of his hand, her attention lingered on the dark hair sprinkled across his abdomen. “I could order room service if you—”
    His laughter interrupted her. “We’re not in the Marriott, Tess. I don’t think room service is an option.”
    Frowning at him, she scrunched the ugly bedspread in her hands. “I know that. I’m just tired. My brain is kind of numb, and I—”
    “Don’t sweat it. I’ll get something from the vending machine later.” He waved a dismissive hand as he sauntered toward the bathroom.
    “Nothing nutritious ever came out of a vending machine, Justin.”
    He paused and cast her an odd look. She caught her breath, realizing her comment could have been construed as a challenge rather than concern.
    “Junk food got me where I am today. Something nutritious would probably send my body into shock.” With a wink, he disappeared into the bathroom.
    After a moment to release the air from her lungs, Tess found herself grinning. Justin’s easy-going demeanor and sense of humor were foreign to her. Randall had little patience with her occasional attempts at levity, and his overbearing nature soon quashed her desire to try to lighten his mood. Peaceful coexistence quickly proved her best tactic with her common-law husband.
    Compelled to feed Justin, to repay him for saving her life if nothing else, she mulled over the options for food. Having something delivered seemed the best bet since it wouldn’t require her leaving the safety of the room and Justin’s proximity.
    She paused, mulling over the idea that his presence gave her a vague sense of security. Maybe she’d had selfish motives for not fighting his decision to stay with her. As crazy as it seemed, she felt safer with this man she’d known for a few hours than she did around the man she’d moved in with twelve years ago when she needed a different kind of security.
    Yet she knew better than to let her guard down. If nothing else, the kidnapping attempt showed her Randall’s men could strike at any time, anywhere. That thought sent a fresh wave of chills prickling over her skin.
    With a weary sigh, she opened the phone book and found the number of a pizza store that delivered. She reached for the phone but paused with her hand suspended over the receiver, a haunting memory seeping through her mind.
    She’d been in her kitchen, cutting up raw chicken for a casserole just two days ago when the phone rang . . .
    If only she’d never heard that incriminating call . She shook her head. No, that call and the events that