Desire Unmatched: 4 (Coded for Love) (6 page)

“You can wait with us here or go back to your apartment.
It’s going to take at least another six hours.”

She glanced from the stuffy conference room to her school
bag full of books and pencils.

“I’ll send Loren to keep you company,” Adam said, correctly
interpreting her hesitation as fear she’d go insane waiting alone. Ever since
she’d spent all those months in a small cell as Paulson’s captive, she hated
being alone. Nights were the worst. She tended to keep the telly running all
night.

She wondered if Xander had been isolated during his
captivity and if he’d hated it as much as she had. Probably not. Her moody match
probably loved being alone for hours on end.

Wow, where was the bitterness coming from? Xander had been
held captive and likely tortured. He needed her sympathy and support, not her
sarcasm.

“I…I’ll go back to my room, but I’ll keep checking in.” She
turned from Adam and left the conference room, walking down one long hall, then
making a right to the hallway leading to her borrowed room. Once in her small
apartment, she dumped her school bag on the floor next to the door and
collapsed onto the futon. Six hours to kill. What could she do to fill the
time? The right thing would be to get started on the essay for her lit class.
It was due in three weeks and she hadn’t picked a topic.

She pulled out a notepad and pen, then spent a good ten
minutes listing possible topics she could write on. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t
as if she were brilliant enough to come up with something fresh on Shakespeare.
Everything under the sun had already been said about him. Idly, she wondered
what Shakespeare would’ve thought of the Program. Barring the fact that the
whole scientific concept of it would’ve been beyond his ken, once past that, he
might have an opinion. After all, people threw the term
Shakespearian
tragedy
around enough. Were she and Xander in the midst of one?

She sat in the stiff chair, the sole one in her room, and
pushed back against the tiny round table she used as both desk and dining
table. The laminate wood was peeling in one section. If she wasn’t careful,
she’d get scratched. The incessantly ticking clock on the wall told her it had
been only fifteen minutes since she’d started her report. Five hours forty-five
minutes to go until Xander’s arrival.

Schoolwork was useless. She couldn’t concentrate. A knock of
the door had her jumping up to open it. She swung the door wide to reveal Loren
and Samara standing there, both with their arms filled.

She stepped back to let them in.

“We come bearing movies,” Loren said.

“And snacks,” Samara added. She’d recently passed the
morning sickness part of her pregnancy and had moved on to the
eat-everything-in-sight mode. Last night, Emma had gone to a bar with some of
her new friends. When she’d arrived back at midnight, she’d seen Chase
scurrying across the campus toward the cafeteria, no doubt to feed his hungry
woman.

“Are you going crazy yet?” Loren asked with sympathy.

“Of course not, I’m fine. I was working on a paper for
school.” She swung a hand in the direction of the round table where several
pens and the open notepad lay.

The look both women threw her told her they didn’t buy her
false bravado. They’d know it’d be impossible to get any work done when Xander
was returning to campus imminently.

“Yes, I’m going crazy,” she said, walking over to the futon
and sinking into a ball on one end of it.

Samara followed her over. “It’s to be expected. Since you
and Xander are connected, your hormones shift slightly if he’s in danger.”

It made no sense to her, but since Samara was the world’s
leading expert, she’d buy it. “Adam didn’t tell me if he’s hurt.” She directed
her statement at Loren, who was on her haunches in front of the television,
fiddling with the DVD player.

Loren swiveled her blonde head. “Adam didn’t tell me
specifically, but I think the fact Xander orchestrated his own escape and made
it to the US consulate is a really good sign.”

“Which city was he in?” she asked, picturing the glamorous
long avenues of Paris.

“Marseille,” Loren answered. As a journalist, she always
seemed to know everything that happened around here.

“Marseille?” she whispered. She’d been to France before, on
holiday with a bunch of school chums. It was a lovely place. Perfectly
romantic. Not the kind of place she imagined when she thought of Xander
kidnapped and held hostage. “Was it Paulson?” She wrapped her arms around her
body to stave off the shivers that came with the name of the man who’d
kidnapped her for three months.

Loren shrugged and stepped away from the telly. “They don’t
know much of anything. I’m sure Xander will tell us more when he gets here.”

All three sets of eyes looked to the clock on the wall, then
back to the screen. “
Love Actually
,” Loren said firmly.

“What, you think ’cause I’m a Brit, I naturally like that
movie?” Emma protested by nudging Loren with her bare big toe.

“Well, don’t you?” Loren asked.

“I do,” she admitted.

They settled back to watch, wiping away tears at the funeral
and giggling at Hugh Grant’s confused genial smarminess. They all sat back
against the futon cushions and sighed when Colin Firth admitted his love in
halting Portuguese.

“I love that movie,” Loren said as the credits flashed on
screen.

Samara wrinkled her brow. “I never realized before how
depressing a movie it is.”

She and Loren turned on her. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“It’s romantic,” Loren said.

Samara pointed at the screen. “But the Alan Rickman
character…he crushed his wife. And Laura Linney, she’ll never find love if she
always puts her brother first. Depressing.”

Emma saw her point.

Loren wasn’t ready to let it go, however. “But Hugh Grant as
prime minister and his assistant, and the little boy…he learned to drum for a
girl!” She reclined back against the futon. “So sweet.”

“Another movie?” Emma asked, trying not to convey her
desperation they not leave her alone.

Samara stood, shaking crumbs off her distended belly. “I
have to head back. Luca loves Chase, but still needs me to tuck him in.” She
made it to the door, then turned to Emma. Her dark gaze seemed to penetrate
below her skin. “Don’t let Xander push you away. He’s going to need you more
than ever.”

She shifted in her spot on the futon. “What do you mean?”

Samara curled a hand onto her belly. “Chase has given me a
few bits and pieces about Xander. Enough that I don’t think he had an easy
life. I think his folks could be a bit rough on him.”

Emma remembered her one encounter with Michael Bristack and
nodded. She could see him being a strict dad.

“Go easy on him,” Samara said again.

She nodded as the door closed quietly behind Samara, and she
and Loren were left alone.

“I think I’m down for another movie,” Loren said and got up
to replace the DVD.

They were halfway through
Harry Potter and the Prisoner
of Azkaban
when the door opened a crack to reveal Adam.

Emma’s heart flew to her throat. “Is he here?” She realized
she’d jumped off the couch.

Adam shook his head. “Not yet, I wanted to come see my girl
and keep you both company if that’s all right.” He didn’t wait for Emma’s
permission and smiled down at Loren and maneuvered his way under her on the
floor so Loren was curled in his lap.

Emma kept her eyes forward on the screen showing Brit movie
number two, with a surprising number of the same actors from
Love Actually
.
Americans must think the UK only had twelve actors in the whole of the Isles.

The Americans in her room weren’t paying Harry and Sirius
Black much attention. They were too busy snuggling and whispering little things
in each other’s ears. Um, hallo? Get a room. And not hers.

“I’m tired,” she announced suddenly. “I think I’ll sleep and
when I wake, Xander should be here.”

Adam looked relieved, happy to get Loren to a bed, no doubt.
At least Loren had the good grace to look apologetic but didn’t slow her roll
as she ejected the DVD from the machine and followed Adam out the door.

“I’m here if you need me,” she said from the doorway. “Just
call.”

Emma nodded and made a show of going to her futon to pull it
out to a bed. Then she got in without bothering to change into pajamas or take
off her makeup. She wanted to look decent when she saw Xander again. A glance
at the clock told her it was nearly ten p.m. She rolled over to the little
table that served as her nightstand and grabbed her cell phone. She set the
alarm for two hours on the off chance she actually fell asleep.

She didn’t expect to get any shuteye tonight with all the
anticipation at seeing her match again. Would he have changed in the weeks he
was gone? It hadn’t been that long, but she felt she was different than when
he’d been taken. For one, she was a full-time student now. She had friends
outside of the Program. She wasn’t totally alone in the world.

She’d spoken to her father several times since she’d last
seen Xander. They’d never been particularly close, speaking every few months,
so it hadn’t been hard for her to disappear from his life without him noticing.
He’d noticed when letters from her university had arrived with outstanding
bills. He’d been about to mount a search when she’d reconnected with him.

Speaking of fathers, Xander had his own father to deal with.
He’d been worried about his son’s disappearance and was likely holding his own
vigil tonight waiting for his son’s return. If she were a patient person, she’d
let Mr. Bristack have his reunion first. She wasn’t that patient. She planned
on being the first person Xander saw when he arrived back on campus.

In her mind, she had it all worked out. First reactions were
telling. If Xander looked relieved and happy to see her, she’d stay and fight
for him. If he turned away or gave her the cold treatment, she’d give up. She
wouldn’t give him time to acclimate to home, because then he’d have time to go
back into denial and rejection mode.

Forget genetic matching, forget the DNA-deep connection, the
Program would have to find a new match for their surly soldier. It wouldn’t be
her. She had a life outside this place to discover, and though it would hurt to
cut Xander permanently out of her life, she’d do it if necessary.

Her tumultuous thoughts kept her dozing in and out of
wakefulness until finally her phone buzzed, sending her body straight to
sitting. She raced to the bathroom, ran a brush over her hair and another one
over her teeth, then hurried out the door.

She ran to the conference room, praying she hadn’t missed
his arrival. She reenacted her scene from hours earlier, bursting into the
conference room. This time only a tiny handful of soldiers was there, Shep and
Mr. Bristack among them.

“Emma,” Shep said, standing. “I thought you’d gone to bed.”

She looked around the room. “I couldn’t sleep. Is he close?”

All the men in the room stood and came toward her. “Gavin
called. He picked him up from the airport and they’re a few minutes out. We’re
meeting them at the front gate. Come with us.”

She fell into the group, walking with them, only realizing
she wasn’t wearing shoes when they exited the front gate. It was a cold night
and her toes instantly howled in protest. She ignored the discomfort. She could
put up with a little cold, especially when Xander had put up with God knows
what.

She stood in the small group, suddenly feeling a buzz of
energy go through the men. She didn’t have the enhanced night vision they did,
but soon she could see the black SUV breaking off from the main road and
turning toward them.

Her heartbeat counted the seconds until the gate swung open
and the large car rolled in and came to a stop in front of her group. She
squinted, trying to see into the tinted windows, unable to see whether Xander
was in the backseat or the front passenger. She supposed it was a good sign it
wasn’t an ambulance. Dimly, she heard two car doors slam and two men were
walking out of the car toward them. She only had eyes for Xander, who looked
thinner and a lot hairier. He had a full beard and his normally shaved head had
hair at least an inch and a half long.

Xander blinked in the shadows at the floodlight pouring from
above the doorway of the main office building. The light formed a circle around
a huddle of people, presumably there to greet him.

The cold air seeped into his skin under the thin button-down
shirt he wore. He wished he hadn’t rejected Gavin’s offer of a blanket to wrap
up in on the car ride home, but he’d had to turn it down. He was fine.
Returning home wrapped in a blanket like some kind of invalid was a guaranteed
way to incur his father’s scorn.

He wondered what his father’s attitude would’ve been if he’d
come home in a blanket, only on a gurney with the blanket pulled over his stiff
face. He didn’t get another second to think that morbid thought.

Emma was in the group. Looking more beautiful than in his
imagination. He’d pictured her every day of his capture and still she exceeded
every image of his memory. His feet turned his body toward her and he reached a
hand out before snatching it back.

Every second of every day he’d been gone he’d wanted to get
the hell out of his captivity and return home. For his match. Emma. Standing
inches away from her and not grabbing her to kiss her was more deadly torture
than anything his Marseille abductors could’ve cooked up.

“Xander,” she whispered, separating from the group and
stepping toward him.

He couldn’t let her see her effect on him. His reasons for
keeping his distance from her hadn’t changed in his absence. His father was
still a controlling dick, and he still had to keep his distance from Emma, no
matter how he might want it different.