ONCE SHE WOULD HAVE BEEN ECSTATIC AT THAT GRUDGING admission of some sort of feelings for her, but all she could think was, Why now? Why had he shown up now, when she finally had her decisions made and her goals set. Neither the decisions nor the goals in any way included having a man in her life, especially this man, and in fact she didn’t know if anything like that was being offered. He had simply made a statement, in more ways than one. There was no place in his life for a woman, at least not on a permanent basis, and if she ever did find a time and space for a relationship again, if she lived through what she’d decided to do, she wouldn’t settle for anything less than permanency.

She’d gone without a man for months now, and she liked the solitude, the sense of self she was gradually regaining. She wasn’t anyone’s girlfriend, or arm candy, or companion; she belonged only to herself. The time when she would have unhesitatingly gone with Simon-she had to get used to that name-was past. Between them now was death and reawakening, and the knowledge that while she was still the same basic person she had been before, her outlook had changed. The happiness and security she wanted was within herself, not something he or anyone else could give her.

Suddenly she realized that he’d been there when she died, the knowledge jolting her into abruptly snapping her head up to stare at him. She remembered seeing him, his normally impassive expression for once unguarded, and stark with…what? Something she couldn’t grasp. He’d said something, but the memory of what he’d said was lost in the much larger memory of that pure, white light, and wasn’t important anyway. What was important was that he knew what had happened to her. He knew she’d died. He’d taken her things and left her there-so why had he come back? After what he’d seen, why would he have even considered the possibility that she might have survived?

“I died,” she said flatly.

His eyebrows lifted just a little, as if he were mildly surprised by the sudden change of subject. “I know.”

“Then what made you check on me? Most dead people get buried, and that’s that. You should never have known I’m still alive.”

“I had my reasons.”

Reasons he wasn’t going to tell her, that was clear enough. Agitated, she pushed both hands into her hair, scooping it back from her face and tugging, as if the pressure on her scalp would pull her thoughts into order. The slight narrowing of his eyes told her he wanted her to drop the subject, just let it go, but she couldn’t.

“You knew I was dead. No mistake. You don’t make mistakes like that. So aren’t you even a little bit curious about how I’m sitting here right now? I know I’m a lot curious about why you’re here, if it isn’t to kill me, because I’m not buying that I was suddenly important to you. Once was enough, remember?”

“I don’t do relationships,” he replied, his tone completely unruffled. “In that context, once was enough. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t attracted. I stayed hard for four hours, remember?”

Oh, yes, she remembered, every detail and every sensation, so intense and detailed that it was like being back in the moment. She felt her face getting warm. “That was just sex. It has nothing to do with what I’m talking about.”

“Usually not,” he agreed, giving her another of those little almost-smiles that, on anyone else, would have been a full-out laugh.

Her face got even hotter. Exasperated because she was trying to find out something and he was distracting her with sex, she slapped her hand down on the table, the sound like a small shot. “Stay on subject. Why did you look for me again? What tipped you off?”

“I did an Internet check of the newspapers to see if you’d been identified. Instead, I found out you’d survived.”

“What difference did it make, whether I’d been identified or not?”

“It was for my own curiosity.”

That was definitely an unrewarding answer, if she’d been expecting anything heartwarming. She should always, always remember that he didn’t operate on the same level as most other humans. “But you didn’t tell Rafael.”

“Why would I? You survived, and he was permanently in the dark, so I left it that way.”

“Why did you bother tracking me? You paid the hospital bill, that was more than enough for you to do. Why not go your merry way after that and let me get on with my life?” She shot the question at him, determined to get an answer if she had to shake it out of him, though she bet that would be something to see if she attempted it.

“I did an occasional check to make sure you were all right. If you hadn’t seen me tonight, I wouldn’t be sitting here now, but you did and I had to let you know that you don’t have any reason to run.”

“What difference did it make to you whether or not I’m all right? I’m well, I have-had-a job, I have money. You could have checked once, and let it go.” She should let it go, instead of gnawing at the subject, but she couldn’t. On the surface his answers were satisfactory, but she had an uneasy feeling there was more behind what he’d been doing. He wasn’t just anyone; he was a man who answered only to himself, who lived outside the law and wasn’t subject to the usual human emotions. Maybe the reason he’d kept a check on her was for the exact reason he’d said, but maybe there was another reason, one she should fear.

He didn’t answer immediately; instead he watched her with unnerving silence, his gaze hooded. Then he caught her gaze with his and she almost jumped, so unnerved was she by the intensity in his eyes. “I watched you die,” he said softly. “There was nothing I could do to save you, no way I could help. You were so far gone I couldn’t even tell you I was sorry, that I hadn’t meant for any of that to happen. But I saw your face, saw your expression when you looked past me and saw…something else, something that had to be the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. You whispered ‘angel,’ then you died.”

“I remember your face,” she murmured. “And the light behind you.”

“I sat with you for a while. I touched your cheek. You had no pulse, no breath, and your skin was already going cold. I called 911, and I waited until I could hear the sirens before I left. We aren’t talking about a few minutes, Drea-”

“Andie,” she murmured. “I’m not her anymore.”

“You’d been gone for at least half an hour, and you weren’t submerged in an icy lake to slow all your systems and funnel oxygen to your brain. There was no way the medics could have revived you, and in fact they didn’t. You started breathing on your own, almost a fucking hour after you died,” he said grimly. “You don’t have any brain damage. Any. Not even minimal. So now I have to believe in miracles, because you’re a living, breathing, walking, talking miracle, and that means there’s something else out there after all of this, isn’t there?”

A luminous smile spread across her face. “Yes,” she said simply.

“Then get used to it, sweetheart, because the miracle has a permanent bodyguard.”

SHE CONTINUED TO sit at the kitchen table after he’d left. They had talked some more, and when he thought he had completely convinced her that she had nothing to fear from him ever again, he’d left. She had actually reached that conclusion way before he had, but he was naturally wary and untrusting.

So many different thoughts were roiling through her brain that she could barely sort them. Her very first thought was one of pure relief: Rafael thought she was dead. She didn’t have to worry about him at all, ever again. He hadn’t sent Simon after her; he wasn’t still trying to have her killed. She was free.

Free! For the first time in her adult life, maybe in her entire life, she was truly free. She had thought she was free when she left Rafael, but now she knew the difference. Being free was about more than just eating what you wanted, or not having to play dumb anymore.