Free Present Danger by Susan Andersen Page B

didn’t think an uncomfortably offered thump of encouragement on the back and a little straight talk was going to do the trick in this instance. Think, Ryder, he urged himself. Women liked to be held, didn’t they?
    He reached out and encircled one fragile wrist with his fingers, prying her hand away from her face. “C’mere,” he whispered and tugged at her hand. She struggled to extricate herself from his grip, but he held on. “Shh, shh, easy now,” he crooned, applying leverage. “I know we don’t have much in common, but just for today you and I are gonna try to be friends. Y’need a friend right now, right? I’m just gonna hold you for a minute. C’mere.”
    She dove into his arms.
    He knelt on the floor, legs spread wide, and held her tight as she continued to sob. He could feel her heart thumping frantically, and she was damp and overheated. But her arms clung to his neck in a death grip, one hand clutching his ponytail, and her face burrowed into his chest. James stroked her silky hair from crown to nape with one hand, his other on her back pressing her to him with wide splayed fingers. He murmured words of comfort, ignoring the spreading patch of wetness on his shirt front. A distant corner of his mind registered the fact that her skin felt just as soft as it looked. He resisted the urge to shift with discomfort. Christ, it was hot in here.
    He didn’t attempt to discourage her crying jag, but he was mightily relieved when it eventually wounddown on its own. By the time Lola reentered the room with a tray of cups and a steaming pot of tea, Aunie was lying limply against his chest, tiny shudders occasionally rippling through her. Her nose was so stuffed she had to breathe through her mouth; and wiping at her eyes with the back of her wrist, she sniffed inelegantly.
    “Here,” Lola said in a soft but firm voice as she pressed a wad of Kleenex into her hand. “Sit up, blow your nose, and pull yourself together, woo-mon. James and I don’t understand exactly what you been talkin’ ‘bout. You’re gonna have to explain it to us.”
    Aunie’s arms slipped away from James’s shoulders and she sank back onto her heels. She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and fumbled blindly along the floor for her blanket, wrapping herself up in it once again. James winced as he watched her rebundle herself in wool. How the hell could she stand this heat? He was dying. But when he opened his mouth to raise the issue, Lola, as if she read his mind, squeezed his shoulder warningly. “Shock,” she murmured. “I turned down the thermostat, but don’t argue with her about staying all wrapped up. Let’s just try to get some sugared tea down her … it should help.”
    The afghan kept slipping off Aunie’s right shoulder as she sipped her tea; and watching her, waiting for an explanation, James felt something inside himself winding tighter and tighter. He raised his arm and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. The elevated temperature in here certainly wasn’t an aid in trying to get a handle on his growing tension.
    Finally, the silence got to him. “Who were you talking about when you said he was acquitted?” He knew his tone of voice was too aggressive, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.
    She started violently, turning big, haunted eyes on him. Her eyelids were swollen and red. “Wesley,” she whispered. “My ex-husband.”
    He had pretty much figured that out already, so why did having it confirmed disturb him so much? “So he’s the person responsible for the state of your face the day you came to rent the apartment?”
    She nodded. The teacup rattled against her teeth and she set it aside. Drawing deep, shaky breaths, and with her small white teeth planted firmly in her lower lip, she tugged the afghan closer, hugging herself to contain the trembling. The attempt she made to pull herself together was painfully visible.
    “How long did he abuse you before you got out of your marriage