“And what about me?” He hadn’t meant to say it, but at least the words had the good grace to come out quietly. He did want to know, though. Perry had said Vee cared for him, that was the reason for her response. Was she right?

A war waged on Vee’s face. A frown, then flared nostrils, then her lips pursed. Her eyes widened for a moment, perhaps in fear.

Guilt twisted in his belly. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked.

Her hand slid across the sheets and her fingers interlocked with his, the grip as sure as someone hauling a man who’d fallen overboard back on deck.

He bit back a sigh at her cool touch. If he made a sound, he might break this spell upon her that edged so close to honesty, scant inches from vulnerability.

“That day,” she whispered, barely above a breath, “at the reef …”

His chest tightened. When they’d dived to see the whale shark and he’d strayed into a powerful current …

Wild Hunt, he’d thought he was for Davy Jones’ locker that day. And she’d poured so much of her gift, so much of her energy into bringing him back that she’d barely been able to swim to shore and she was an unnaturally strong swimmer. She’d lain on the beach unconscious, pale, shivering for almost an hour.

Because she’d miss him if he went away? He raised his eyebrows but didn’t dare voice the question.

Her gaze was still on the drapes.

His ears strained, ready for her to say something more in that quiet breath of a voice.

She inhaled, and he mirrored the action in anticipation.

She blinked, and all the heaviness disappeared from her eyes. Slowly, she smiled. “I’d miss your warmth,” she said, voice low and velvety, no longer that tiny secret whisper. She turned his hand and let her finger circle the palm. “You’re always so warm”—she rolled to face him, only a few inches away, gaze following the motion of her fingertip, thoughtful—“I wonder if it’s part of your gift.”

And the walls were back up.

He swallowed a sigh of disappointment. For Vee, she’d said a lot. This was the most they’d spoken about feelings in—well, the whole time they’d known each other. And she’d mentioned the reef in that odd, soft moment. It wasn’t much of an answer, but maybe it meant she—in her own chipped way—cared for him.

She stroked his knuckles, pulling them to her lips. “And, these hands,” she said against his skin, the air tickling, tingling. “I’d be sad to see them go.” Eyes on him, she kissed each finger.

His body hummed with the low vibration of her words, the way her touches skimmed, teasing. He breathed a soft laugh and raised his eyebrows to ask what else she’d miss.