Free Dateline: Kydd and Rios by Tara Janzen

unleashed a fresh wave of doubts, leaving her as disconcerted as his kiss had. She would never make it like this. She’d been alone too long. More than the memories of his lovemaking, the memories of his friendship had haunted her nights. They’d been so good together. “I’ve missed you, Josh,” she whispered, allowing herself one final weakness.
    In the slightest of gestures, his thumb stroked down the length of hers. “Yeah,” he drawled huskily. “I’ve missed you, too.”
    Luck was with them as they made their way up the back stairs of the old hotel. The little-used stairwell was dark, the railing rickety. Nikki felt her way along the wall until they reached the second floor landing. Taking the lead again, Josh checked the hall before he allowed her to walk down it to her apartment. When she had the door open, he joined her, quickly stepping inside.
    She reached for the light switch, but his hand over hers stopped her from turning it on.
    “Wait,” he commanded.
    For an instant she thought he was going to kiss her again, and she steeled herself to reject him. Instead he strode across the living room and drew the drapes on the French doors leading to the balcony.
    “Okay, you can flip on the lights.” He bent and turned on a lamp on her desk. Subdued light spilled from beneath the shade, revealing his rumpled and travel-stained clothing, and a man much different from the boy she’d left, asleep and beautiful, tangled in the sheets where he’d shared his love.
    He looked older and harder than she remembered, more worn, his eyes more cautious, and he looked unbelievably good to her. Dark hair swept back from his face and feathered across his collar in shaggy layers, untouched by a barber’s hand for many weeks. His skin was still burned brown except for the thin scar tracing his temple, but the faint lines at the corners of his eyes had deepened.
    The wide strap of a military-style satchel angled across his chest, a gray band against his faded dark shirt. Black canvas pants hung low on his hips and broke across a pair of scuffed hiking boots that looked as if they’d seen many miles. She remembered him not quite as thin, not quite as rough around the edges, and somewhere in the back of her heart, she knew he, too, had been alone for a long time.
    “The lights, Nikki,” he repeated softly. He’d felt her gaze roam over him like a touch, and he wanted to see her, wanted to see the woman he’d missed in so many ways through so many nights. He wanted to see the face that came to him in his dreams.
    “Yes, of course.” She flipped the switch and the light flooded over her, transfixing her in a pool of brilliance.
    He held her eyes for a moment, then turned his head, taking in her apartment. “I had to twist your editor’s arm to get your address out of him. You forgot to tell him I was okay.” A grin curved his mouth, yet didn’t quite reach his eyes,
    “I’m sorry,” she said, turning aside and laying her duffel bag on the counter dividing the kitchen from the living room. She had forgotten to tell David to give Josh Rios any information he requested, and if she’d forgotten that, what else had she forgotten? With shaky hands, she pulled the bandanna from around her neck and used it to mop her face. The heat in the closed-up apartment was stifling, and even two combined suites didn’t seem big enough to hold the two of them and her memories. “Thanks again for coming. I was afraid you wouldn’t get the message, or that you wouldn’t remember.”
    “I remember everything up until the night you left. Things got a little hazy for a while after that.” The barest touch of condemnation crept into his voice. He tried to keep it out, really tried, the way he tried to force a smile onto his face. But it hurt to look at her, standing there with her hair falling down around her shoulders and her pretty face flushed.
    She’d changed little over the years. Her hair was longer, her delicate features a