I chose you.

Those words, so powerful and heartrending, played over and over in her mind, soothing away the splintered fragments of pain, anger and violence.

Were there any three sweeter words to hear? She thought a moment and then acknowledged there was. Only one phrase that had more power than a man telling a woman that, out of the millions of women in the world, he chose only one. One! He chose her.

I love you.

Oh to hear those words from his lips, from his heart. To know that he meant them with every fiber of his being. She’d give anything in the world to have her heart’s desire. Her parents alive, safe, home. And Beau Devereaux’s love. If she ever were assured of those two things, she’d never ask for more.

By acknowledging the yearning from the deepest recesses of her soul, she was forced to acknowledge the depth of her own feelings. Her heart had literally been breaking apart, splintering, cracking. Piece by piece, chipped away as she’d walked—or rather tried to walk—away from him. To leave him the peace and strength of family that he deserved.

She knew how important family was. Her own family wasn’t as large as Beau’s, but it didn’t mean it was any less strong. And perhaps it was because it had always been only her, her mother, and her father, that their bond was so indestructible.

In a world where divorce was common. Where children left home at an early age. Where husbands beat wives. Spouses cheated on one another. Children were abused. Ari’s family had stood the test of time, and in fact, had strengthened—not weakened—with each passing year.

Her memories—so many wonderful, cherished memories—were so very dear to her and she prayed with all her heart that they would share many more memories to come. That she would one day give them grandchildren to protect and spoil every bit as much as they’d done with her.

Beau’s children.

The thought whispered enticingly through her damaged mind. She automatically lifted her head, seeking the reassurance that looking at his strong facial features always gave her. Her lips parted in surprise when she realized he was fully awake—had been awake for a while, because there were no cloudy remnants of sleep lingering lazily in his eyes. They were alert and aware. And they were solidly focused on her.

It was apparent she wasn’t the only one who’d been absorbed in a quiet moment of reflection. She only wished she was privy to his thoughts. She wanted so badly for her wants and desires, her hopes and dreams, to align with his. She wanted to share her life. With him. Only him.

Was she crazy to have fallen so hard and so inexplicably fast? Her brow furrowed momentarily as her perusal of Beau’s beautiful face gave way to silent contemplation of just how long, or rather how short, a time they’d even been associated.

Her only knowledge of Beau Devereaux, until just a few short days ago, was by name only. And only when, in those rare moments when her father was in a serious mood, and she’d always gotten the uneasy feeling that he was . . . afraid. Of something. Or someone. Because it was when he was in those very rare moods that he seemed to further gather his wife and daughter to him and would only separate himself from them for a few moments at most.

It was those times that he’d, out of the blue, very somberly remind Ari that if she were ever in need, ever in danger and that he wasn’t, for whatever reason, available, close or simply unable to see to his daughter’s safety and well-being, she was to immediately contact Caleb or Beau Devereaux and only in person. Not over the phone. Never to give them the opportunity to give her the brush-off, think she was nuts, or say they were booked solid.

Her father—and mother—had laughingly told her many times over the years that no one had a chance upon laying eyes on Ari’s sweet, beautiful features and that her eyes were capable of bewitching even the hardest of hearts.

She supposed that was why he’d wanted her to seek Beau out personally. Perhaps he’d been afraid that he wouldn’t help her unless she pleaded her case in person. Whatever the reason, she offered silent thanks to her father. As a result of that extracted promise, not only did she have her best chance to save her parents, but she’d also met a man who made her want to dream. A man she wanted forever with.

“What on earth are you thinking, honey?” Beau asked softly, reaching out with one finger to gently caress away the lines creasing her forehead. “Are you worried about something? Are you hurting?” he demanded, as though the thought had just occurred to him.

He was already reaching for the medicine bottle on the nightstand when she issued a hasty denial. She placed her hand on his chest to stay his motion and he reluctantly turned back to her, concern burning brightly in his eyes.

“Are you certain?” he asked in a skeptical tone. “Ari, if you hurt, you need to control the pain or risk another bleed, or God forbid, a more serious hemorrhage.”

She smiled, her heart warming to its very core over the depth of concern, both in his words and in his entire body language. She looped her arm as far around his broad chest as she was able and gave him a fierce squeeze, her attempt at a hug since they were both lying down, him on his back and her on her side nestled into the curve of his armpit.

“Hey,” he queried softly. “Not that I’m complaining at all, but what was that for? What’s going on, honey? You looked so puzzled and then worried. Your eyes were flashing as though you were processing half a dozen thoughts in that pretty head. And the very last thing you need is any kind of stress. So tell me so I can take care of it and make it better.”