Jamie whispered. “So sorry...it’s my fault...” Davis opened his eyes and saw that streaks of sunlight were falling onto the bed. He turned his head to look at Jamie. She was curled in bed beside him, a sheet pulled up to the curve of her breasts. Her lashes were still closed, but her head moved restlessly against the pillow. “Sorry,” she muttered again. “My fault... I—I told him... Sorry...” Her breath heaved out. “Don’t, don’t—Warren, don’t!” Warren? Then she screamed. A loud, terrified cry. “Jamie!” He shook her once, lightly. “Sweetheart, wake up. It’s just a nightmare.” Her breath heaved out, and her eyes flew open. At first she stared at him in horror, not even a hint of recognition on her face. But then she blinked, and some of that terror faded from her gaze. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice husky.
