The guy finally crashes, there was no way she was going to wake him up just yet. Wasn't like the cot would be much more comfortable than the chair, anyway. She glanced at her chart, gauged the time. Ms. Branch's wounds were healing well enough, and she could hold off an hour before she changed the bandages.

That hour wasn't much. This man looked like he needed a week horizontal. During shift changes, the nurses had talked about their unusual ICU patient. They didn't get too many patients come in with a collapsed lung, an injury from a whip, and an escort that consisted of federal agents and a bestselling fantasy author.

A bestselling author who hadn't left the patient's side for more than ten minutes at a stretch, and then only to get food or cal and check on his daughter. A bestselling author who was currently sleeping by the patient's bed and, to her knowledge, this was the first time he'd done more than catnap for five or ten minutes.

This was no catnap. Already his chest was moving in the slow, steady rhythm of deep sleep. Since he hadn't woken up at the sound of the cot's squeaky arrival, she figured he wasn't going to wake up for a little while, not until he rested some or she woke him up.

No, an hour wasn't much, but it was the best she could do right now. Too bad he hadn't waited until after she'd changed the dressings on Ms. Branch's wounds. He could have managed two or three hours before shift change.

EVEN before Cullen opened his eyes, he knew he was dreaming.

Instead of the steady beep of hospital machinery, he heard the crash of waves into the sand. Instead of the cool air that smelled faintly of antiseptic, he could smell the ocean and the scents of summer: hot sand and sunscreen.

Yeah, he knew he was dreaming, but still he panicked. The sound of the heart monitors was the only thing that kept him sane right then, and not hearing them was enough to have his own heart speeding up in panic.

Body braced, he opened his eyes.

And then he sagged.

Taige.

She stood staring out over the blue green waters of the Gulf, her arms crossed over her chest, her hair blowing back from her face. Incongruously, she still wore one of those ugly, utilitarian hospital gowns. It flapped around her body, a body that was too thin and battered.

The sight of her was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and once more, the panic inside him welled up.

s.h.i.t-she wasn't . . .

Stop it! She hadn't survived those first hours only to die now. Stil , when he finally opened his mouth to speak, he had to clear his throat twice, and his voice cracked on him.

"Taige?"

For a second, she didn't respond, and then she turned her head and looked at him over her shoulder. "Hey." A faint grin curled her lips. "You look like h.e.l.l."

"You look beautiful." And he meant it. It didn't matter that her hair was tangled, that she still had that dull, grayish cast to her skin, or that she looked like she needed a month's worth of decent, home-cooked meals. She looked absolutely beautiful to him.

Her grin spread into a ful -out smirk, and she laughed. Plucking her hospital gown away from her chest, she gave it a disgusted look. "Yeah, I bet. I look ready to walk down a runway, don't I?"

That wry, self-deprecating humor finally managed to break through the ice surrounding him. He crossed the sand in four long strides and grabbed her, not thinking about the injuries that had put her in the hospital bed. These were dreams-sort of. Whatever was physically hurting her didn't really exist here.

Pain of the nonphysical variety was different, though. Cul en knew it for a fact, because he had a very real, very huge ache centered square in his chest, taking up the void that had been his heart ever since she'd gotten shot. "My G.o.d," he muttered, burying his face in her hair. "I've been so d.a.m.n scared . . ."

He wouldn't say it, though. Saying it made it real. Until she actually woke up and talked to him, that was more reality than he could handle. Even after she woke up, he suspected that would be too much.

She cuddled into him, her hands curling into his T-shirt. "I'm okay."

"You're in a d.a.m.n coma. That's pretty d.a.m.n far from okay," Cullen gritted out. Finally able to touch her, even in a dream, he hadn't thought he'd pull away from her so quick, but he did, leaning back just enough so he could see her face. "You died on us three d.a.m.n times."

"I know." That plain, simple statement froze him clear to down to his feet. "Close to four, I think." She reached up, touched her fingers to his mouth. "But I heard you. You kept calling me, and you just wouldn't let go."

Wrapping his arms around her, he said, "I'm not going to, either. Ever. So you might as wel wake up."

He pressed his forehead against hers and whispered, "Come on, Taige. You need to wake up, baby."

"I'm trying . . ." She grimaced as she spoke, and then she started to fade away.

In his arms. As he was holding her. She faded, growing more and more insubstantial until he couldn't see her, feel her, smell her-although he did hear her.

I love you . . .

AT first, when Cullen woke up, he wasn't certain what it was that had disturbed him.

His head had that m.u.f.fled, disconnected thing going on that came from far too little rest, and he knew however long he'd been out, it hadn't been long enough.

But then he heard it again. Something soft.

Something faint.

Something he'd been praying for, pretty much nonstop, for the past four days.

A sound. From Taige.

Her lips were moving. Her lids were still closed, but her lips were moving. He couldn't understand what she was saying at first, and the words had no real sound to them. At least no coherent sound.

He was out of the chair so d.a.m.n fast, he tripped over his feet and ended up on his knees beside the bed. Apt enough, since she'd been knocking him to his knees on a regular basis for a good, long time. He reached out, folding her cold hand between his.

She wasn't as cold . . . was she?

She whispered again, her lips forming the same words, and finally, he understood what she was saying: "I love you."

"Taige?"

Her lids flickered. A faint smile curved her lips. And between his hands, hers moved, her fingers sliding between his. She squeezed, oh so faintly. And then, a soft sigh escaped.

She fell silent, as though that simple movement had drained her.

But for the first time since she'd been hurt, Cullen breathed just a little easier.

TWELVE.

A WEEK after that, seven days after she'd roused from her coma and smiled at Cullen, they finally let her leave the hospital. She didn't remember smiling at him, talking to him or the doctors, the nurses, Dez. Nothing, not until a day or two later when she fully woke up.

Taige did remember the dream, though. Just like most of her dreams with Cullen, it had been almost painfully real. But it hadn't been bittersweet. No, that dream had been different.

It had left her hopeful.

Hope wasn't something she had wasted a lot of time on over the past few years, and letting herself feel it now was more than a little bit terrifying. Fortunately, the drugs clouding her brain, the pain that managed to bleed through those painkillers, and her very overpowering desire to put some miles between herself and the hospital all combined to keep her from dwelling on much of anything else for too long.

Right now, the only thing Taige really needed to dwell on was the art of breathing.

Since waking in agony to find tubes shoved in her chest, she realized that breathing was a lot more complicated than the typical person realized.

The window was down. It was hotter than h.e.l.l outside, but she needed the feel of the air on her face, the wind moving through her hair. Cullen sat next to her, speeding down Highway 180. It didn't seem like he could go more than a minute without glancing over at her. "Are you okay?" he asked. It was only the tenth time he'd asked since they'd pulled out of the hospital parking lot. And that was a huge improvement over the first day or two after she woke up. Then she hadn't been able to take a breath or blink without him asking.

But she didn't mind.

She was awake for him to ask, right?

But Taige did sincerely hope that he wouldn't stil be asking her that every ten minutes or so for too much longer. Of course, it would be easier to lie to him if she could move without hurting, if she could breathe without hurting. She'd always healed pretty fast, but she'd never been hurt this badly before.

With all her heart, Taige hoped she wasn't ever hurt this badly again. The st.i.tches in her chest itched, her muscles hurt, her bones, breathing. Just breathing took some effort right now. She had to concentrate and make sure she didn't breathe too deeply, because if she took regular breaths, it hurt. Yeah, it was an art, trying to breathe just deeply enough that she managed to get enough air, but not so deeply that she made those abused muscles and healing tissues and bones ache.

Logically, she knew she shouldn't have left the hospital yet. They'd only been able to take the chest tubes out a few days ago, and the lung specialist wasn't too thrilled with her lung function either. The fact that they had let her leave the hospital was nothing short of a miracle.

The doctors hadn't wanted to let her go, but she'd made up her mind that she wasn't going to stay in that d.a.m.n hospital another day. Even if she had to walk out on her own two feet. So what if she collapsed before she made it to the parking lot?

Fortunately, Cullen had offered a compromise. She could leave the hospital, go home, and a private duty nurse would visit her twice a day for the first few days. Cullen had said he'd be staying with her. It wasn't like she'd be alone, and she'd be a h.e.l.l of a lot more comfortable if she was some place-okay, any place-other than the hospital.

She wanted to go home, and if that meant promising to eat three square meals a day that included lots of leafy green stuff, chugging down sixty-four ounces of water, and popping vitamins, then she'd do it. So long as she got to go home.

Then Cullen drove right past her house. She glanced at the gravel drive that disappeared into the trees and then back at him. "Cul en . . ."

But before she could ask where they were going, he did turn.

Her heart skipped a beat or two and, forgetting herself, she gasped. Once she'd recovered from the pain that caused, she blinked through her tears and stared at the house in front of her.

It had been on the market for nearly two years. It was beautiful, custom-built from the ground up, and the price tag was a little high. But the For Sale sign was missing from the little patch of gra.s.s by the mailbox. "What are we doing here?"

He glanced at her. "I bought it."

"You bought it."

He slid her another glance and then looked away. Nervous. Cullen was nervous. There was no mistaking that look. "You bought it."

No response.

"Why?"

His eyes narrowed. "Because your house doesn't have room for me and Jillian, and I don't plan on letting you out of my sight for a while. If you don't like it, too bad."

"Exactly how long is a while?"

For a minute, he didn't answer, and she started to think he was ignoring her . . . or maybe he hadn't heard her. But then, in a quiet voice, he said, "The rest of my life sounds pretty good to me."

The sheer, intense emotion in his voice was enough to have her eyes start to burn from tears, her throat go al tight, and her heart swell. Unsure of how to respond to that, Taige didn't respond at all.

They pul ed to a stop in front of the house, and for a minute, they just sat there staring at it. The walls were stone, giving it an old-world look, and there were a lot of windows-really big windows-sparkling in the early morning sun. The door was painted a bright red, and as they watched, it opened, and a small girl came barreling through, running down the steps with a huge smile on her pretty little face.

For a second, Taige almost didn't recognize her.

She hadn't ever seen that girl with a smile on her face. Not once. In reality, Taige knew she'd only physically seen the girl twice. Once when they'd found her in the cabin and then once in the hospital while the girl was in a drug-induced sleep. In al the dreams, al of the weird little visions that had come to Taige over the past twelve years, Jillian Morgan never smiled in them. Not even once. Of course, Jillian hadn't had many reasons to smile during those visions. In truth, no reason.

There was no logic to life, Taige knew. There was no logical way Taige could have dreamed about this girl before she even existed. No way she could have spent so many years searching for a girl who hadn't needed Taige until less than a month ago. Logic had no place in this mess because, as improbable as it all was, it was real. It had all happened.

Cullen glanced at Taige, and she forced a smile. "Go on. I'm fine." G.o.d knows, he'd spent so much time at Taige's side over the past few weeks, and that pretty little girl must have missed him something awful. He climbed out of the car and caught up with Jillian just as she reached the driveway. Taige watched as Cul en threw Jillian up into the air and then caught her close in a hug. Tears misted her eyes as she saw the two of them together.

Jillian smiled down at her dad and brought her hands up, cupping his face between them and then leaning down to kiss him. There were no words between them, but there was a love so deep, so strong that Taige guessed the father and daughter really didn't need words.

Then Jilly turned her head and looked into the truck. Her eyes landed on Taige's face, and her smile faded away.

A fist wrapped around Taige's heart. The poor baby. She'd gone through ten different kinds of h.e.l.l, and seeing Taige was going to remind her of that. This wasn't going to work. Yeah, she needed somebody with her for a few days because she wasn't sure she could walk from a bed to a toilet without help, but she'd call Dez. Dez would come and probably be grateful for a break.

Jillian squirmed in Cullen's arms, and he put the girl down. Taige figured Jillian wanted to go inside, get away from her and all the memories that Taige's presence had to bring back. But instead, she walked up and climbed through Cullen's open door, onto the leather seat, until she could crouch on the console like a little cat. "You still look sick,"

Jillian said with the brutal, frank honesty of a child.

Forcing herself to smile, Taige said, "I'll be fine." An awkward silence started to spread between them, and desperate to keep that from happening, Taige asked softly, "How are you doing?"

Jillian grinned. "I'm great. We got a beach. A real beach. And it's ours." She c.o.c.ked her head, and the fat, inky curls fell over one thin shoulder. "You like the beach?"

"I love the beach. I live on the beach, too." Her gaze slid to the huge, sprawling house, and she added wryly, "But I doubt it's as big as your beach is."

"Can you swim?"

"Like a fish."

"Can you teach me?"

Taige glanced at Cul en as he approached, staring at Jillian and Taige with intense eyes.

Her heart pounded in her throat as she forced the words out. "We'll have to see." She was a little floored that Jillian even wanted to speak with her.

That thought had barely formed in her head when Jillian leaned a little closer and whispered, "Of course I wanna talk to you. You're my friend." She smiled sweetly and reached up, laid a hand on Taige's face. "I'd miss not talking to you."

Now Taige couldn't speak. She couldn't force the words, and it took several tries and a couple of deep breaths before she managed it. "You remember talking to me?"

Jillian rolled her eyes, and for a minute she looked exactly like what she should be: a child just hovering on the stage of prep.u.b.escence, convinced she knew every bit as much as any adult ever could. "Of course I remember talking to you." Then she glanced back at her dad. "I think you're going to have to make her get out of the car. She's scared."

With that, she pulled back and took off running back up the driveway.

Hardly able to speak around the knot in her throat, Taige murmured, "She shouldn't have to see me, Cullen. It can't be good for her."