her breath catch and her stomach tighten. She couldn 't get enough air to insist that he reply, afraid of what he might say.
Finally, when she 'd almost given up, he said, "He's missing."
Chapter Two
"Is he—?"
Dead , Matt filled in, as Janey dropped into one of the leather chairs.
Janey wanted to know if her brother was dead.
Something inside him shifted at the sight of her, so alone, so small, in the big chair. The risks of the job had forced him to keep her at arm's length for so long, but he'd never quit wishing he hadn't. Wishing he'd had her all these years. But if he had, it would be hard not to tell her the little he knew.
He squatted before her, put his hands on the arms of the chair because he didn 't dare touch her. "He's not dead." He said it as firmly as he could, knowing how wrong he could be. How wrong he probably was.
She sobbed, a single sound she managed to swallow, but tears ran down her cheeks.
"He's okay, honey," he said. The lie cut him to the quick. If JP Blackmon wasn't dead, he was on the run. And Matt couldn't say a damn thing to his sisters or to his mother because of the secrets his job dictated.
" I have to tell Mom and Cassie. They're worried."
" Call them." He stood, sure if he didn't, he'd touch her. Mrs. Blackmon and Janey's younger sister would hang their hopes on his words, just as Janey would. For the first time in forever, he asked God for help. Because he sure as hell couldn't do a damn thing.
She stood before he had a chance to move away. They were inches apart, Janey 's beautiful face revealed to him by the lightning flashing through the windows. He brushed the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs and she bowed her head.
When she looked up again, he could tell she 'd brought her emotions under control.
Strength. That 's what Janey had. He'd always admired her for it. He'd wanted her from the moment his hormone-laden nineteen-year old self had seen her. Fifteen and gorgeous. The idiots at school called her Plain Jane. There was nothing plain about Janey. She was soft and sweet and caring and strong. Stunning. He'd taken one taste when she was eighteen, one test of his willpower to resist her, and had nearly given in. But she was meant for someone who'd be there for her, so she wouldn't have to be strong. So she could be—Janey.
Except, right now, he was bone tired and not thinking straight. At least that was the excuse he used to pull her close. She held on, as she had before. And just as before, he bent, and kissed her.
She tasted like Janey…like home.
Like the tears that had rolled to her lips. That was what he needed to remember: that his life could only hurt her in the end. He had no right to touch her like this.
Cursing himself for a fool, he pulled away.
***
Surprise was the mildest word that came to Janey's mind. Nothing had changed. She wanted Matt Kincaid just as she had the first time he'd kissed her. And foolishly, she'd thought he'd wanted her. Oh, he had, that had been obvious, but he didn't want more than sex. She would have given him that, too. He'd offered, after all. His words were imprinted on her memories. "Today won't count," he'd said. "I can't promise you tomorrow." Foolishly, she'd agreed, but he'd had second thoughts and pulled away. Just as he did now.
" Call your mom, Janey." His voice sounded rough. It did things to her that a voice shouldn't do. But this was Matt. She was hard-wired to respond.
Someday, she 'd sworn. Someday she'd respond as she should have. She wouldn't take no. She'd insist.
He released her and stepped away, taking with him the comfort he 'd given her with that kiss. It wasn't time for kisses or memories. It was time for reality. Reality was her missing brother. Reality was calling her mother.
Which she did, trying to sound like JP was fine, that he 'd be in touch. She suspected her mother didn't believe her, but she played along just the same. It would be best for all of them. For now. She told her