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with elegant
white mugs, sugar, cream and a large coffeepot.
    “That was Dan. He’s checked your place out himself and
everything looks okay at the moment but he’s going to have someone keep an eye
on things for you over the weekend.”
    Beth’s eyes widened. Suddenly a thought occurred to her—how
could Dan Chesterfield have checked her home when she still had her keys?
    “Beth, my sweetheart, he’s an expert in his field—you’ll
never even know he was there.”
    Stunned, she stammered out her thanks—but she was taken
aback by the watch being put on her humble flat.
    “Dan said it’s the least he can do for all the fantastic
cups of coffee you’ve made for him over the last few years, quote, unquote,”
Adam cut in. “Beth? Are you all right?”
    No, no, she wasn’t. All of a sudden the way Adam was taking
care of her, the way his friend was making sure everything was all right—it all
combined to make her hands tremble and her eyes fill with tears again.
    Adam’s arms pulled her into the shelter of his body, his
hand on her hair freeing it from the barrette she wore to keep it tidy for the
office so that he could thread his fingers through the tumbling waves.
    “Shhh, love, it’s all right.” His rich, low voice comforted
her in a way that made things worse as well as better. “You’re safe, I’ll
protect you. I’ll always protect you.”
    That voice was her undoing. Suddenly all she could do was
howl noisy tears when all she wanted was some stability and for the feeling
that her world was being pulled out from under her feet to stop.
    Not to mention the fact that Adam was holding her as if he’d
never let her go.
    * * * * *
    Sometime later, Adam was contemplating the world through a
generous measure of his favorite whiskey, his thoughts running through the
events of the evening. While Beth had showered without his assistance—it must
have been down to sheer determination on her part—he’d rustled up a simple
pasta dish and while it was in the oven he’d waited for her to reappear.
    He’d left his navy terrycloth robe for her to wear and as
soon as he saw her standing at the doorway, he’d fought down the urge to strip
it off her and take her to bed. Instead he’d carried her back to the sofa where
he’d applied an ice pack to her bruised ankle before strapping it up. After
dinner—where he hadn’t pushed his luck by feeding her that as well—he’d given
her an hour or so before ushering her off to bed.
    His bed, since it was the only one in the place. He’d had
the spare bedroom converted into an office a long time ago. Visitors to the
apartment were generally female and generally tended to share his bed.
    Now clad in jeans and a faded T-shirt, he slouched on one of
the sofas, his bare feet up on the coffee table, sharing his thoughts with the
glass of whiskey and the classical music that softly enveloped him. So much to
think about. The way she’d accepted him feeding her the crackers, the way she’d
looked when he’d checked on her ten minutes ago, a goddess bathed in moonlight.
The vulnerable, hurting woman who’d cried in his arms.
    He really did want to protect her—for the rest of his life.
    The sound of the entry phone muscled in on his contemplative
mood—that would be Dan, coming round for a drink and a discussion after his
visit to the club, where he’d gone after leaving Beth’s flat.
    “How is she?” Dan’s voice was uncharacteristically serious,
devoid of its usual levity.
    Adam nodded in the direction of the bedroom. “Asleep now.”
    The two men went to the bedroom door. Adam pushed it further
open and the sight that met him almost stopped his heart.
    He’d given her one of his t-shirts to sleep in but in the
time since he’d last looked in on her, she must have got too warm and removed
it, leaving it lying in a pool at the bottom of the bed. She was now sleeping
on her side, the duvet bunched around her waist and revealing magical curves
cast in shadow