Free When Tomorrow Comes by Lindsay McKenna

it’s right to take advantage of a situation—” He shook his head, his fingers trailing across her wet cheeks. “You’re like a lost child…so damn vulnerable…hurting…” His voice dropped into a husky whisper as he pulled her back into his arms, cradling her head against his neck and jaw. His arms tightened about her momentarily, and he brushed her damp forehead with a kiss. “I thought I knew everything there was to know about women.” He gave a low, throaty chuckle. “At thirty-five, it’s disconcerting as hell to realize I don’t.”
    The remnants of her nightmare were gradually evaporating. She clung wordlessly to him, not understanding much of what he said but responding to the timbre of his raw voice. She shivered, acutely aware of the honesty and care in his tone. It said so much more than the actual words. A flicker of hope flared within her, and she sat up, reaching out to touch his unshaven face.
    “I’m just glad you’re here,” she murmured brokenly. “You have no idea how happy I am you came.”
    “It was sheer luck that I did come,” he told her.
    Dazed by the nightmare, Cait looked groggily around. “What time is it?”
    “Five-thirty.”
    She pulled her hand free and rubbed her face wearily. “God, did you hear me screaming, clear from the offices?”
    His voice was softened. “No. Louie sent me over to get you. I guess I came right in the middle of it. When I pulled up outside your quarters and heard your screams, I thought someone was attacking you. I came barging in here and found you in a tangle of sheets and blankets.”
    She let her hands drop in her lap and licked her dry, chapped lips. “Do me a favor?”
    “Name it.”
    “Make me some coffee.”
    “Will you be all right here by yourself?”
    “Yes. No.” Her voice cracked, and she buried her face in her hands.
    “Take your time,” he coaxed huskily.
    Just the light touch of his hand sliding down the length of her hair calmed the uncontrolled fear still raging within her. Her hands shook slightly when she tried to wipe away the cascading tears. When had she ever cried so much? Or had she been holding the tears in all this time and never known it…not until now?
    Dominic slipped a fresh Kleenex into her hands, and she mumbled her thanks, dabbing at her eyes. She sat with her shoulders hunched forward, head hanging down, dark sheets of hair hiding her tortured face. How could she explain something so personal and painful to him? Yet she knew he was already helping her. There was no questioning look in his glance—only acceptance of her pain.
    “I’m sorry, Dominic.”
    “For what? Being human doesn’t require an apology, querida. ” A tender flame burned in his golden eyes as he watched her gravely. “You’re teaching me something of great value. Maybe sharing pain is best.”
    “Maybe you’re right,” she whispered hoarsely.
    His hand slid along her shoulder in a kneading motion. “How about that coffee now?”
    She nodded, sniffling and then blowing her nose.
    She felt his weight lift from the bed.
    Cait got up, too, and dressed in slow, uncoordinated movements. The familiar sounds of coffee perking and boots sounding on the uncarpeted floor made her feel better. Running a brush through her long hair, she finally joined him in the other room. He was standing by the heating element, his arms crossed, his expression grim.
    She busied herself wiping the two ceramic mugs free of the perpetual dust and set them on the makeshift table fashioned from surplus lumber. He was watching her closely, but this time his gaze did not irritate her.
    “Do you get those nightmares often?” he asked.
    “Yes.” She sat down on one of the stools and motioned for him to join her after he poured the coffee. Trying to ignore the growing tension between them, she concentrated on putting sugar and powdered milk into her cup.
    “Maybe…” She sounded peevish. Frowning, she took a sip and set the cup down. “I’m sorry. I