Part 10 (1/2)
”Grace!”
She frowned. That deep voice sounded oddly familiar. It sounded like Garon. But surely he hadn't heard her?
”I'm here!” she called.
He came around the house, still dressed in his work clothes. ”What the h.e.l.l happened?”
”A coyote was chasing Wilbur. I ran him off with a stick, but I turned my ankle in the process,” she said with a small laugh.
”I heard you yelling from the front porch. I thought you were being attacked,” he muttered, bending. ”Here, I'll carry you...!”
She froze, her eyes wide, her body rigid as he bent. She jerked back, clutching her sweater around her chest.
He swore fiercely, standing abruptly upright. ”What the h.e.l.l is the matter with you?” he demanded.
Tears stung her eyes. She hated the way she was with men. He didn't mean to hurt her. He was trying to help. But she couldn't bear a man's touch on her skin. How could she explain that to him?
”I...don't like...being touched,” she whispered, not looking at him. She was too embarra.s.sed.
It had been a long day, full of frustration, and he wasn't in a good mood. He almost stormed off and left her to it. Then he remembered the nightmare she'd had at his house. He remembered the shapeless clothing she wore, her lack of makeup, her uneasiness with men. He'd been in law enforcement long enough to recognize those signs. It hit him like a brick. He should have seen it sooner.
He knelt down in front of her, his eyes even with hers. ”Grace,” he said gently, ”I won't hurt you. I promise I won't. But you can't walk, and you can't stay here all night.”
She still had a stranglehold on her sweater, but his voice was calm and steady, and he didn't look angry anymore. He didn't even look threatening. She ground her teeth together.
”It isn't...personal,” she gritted.
”Of course it isn't. Come on.”
He held out his arm and she took it, pulling herself to her feet. She a.s.sumed that he would lend her some support on her way to the porch. But he suddenly bent and swung her up in his arms, carrying her toward the porch.
She made an odd, frightened little sound in her throat and stiffened.
He stopped, looking down into her eyes. ”You don't like being carried,” he murmured. ”It frightens you.”
She swallowed, hard, her eyes full of pain. He didn't know. She couldn't tell him. She drew in a long breath, and then another. He wasn't going to hurt her. He was a kind man.
She forced herself to relax. Her cold hands eased up around his neck as he s.h.i.+fted her weight. ”S-sorry,” she stammered.
He wondered what in the world could have happened to her, what had made her so jumpy and uneasy with men. An attack of some sort? A rape? He didn't know her well enough to ask questions. He wished he did.
”Taking on a coyote with a stick,” he murmured as he carried her back to the house. ”Now I've heard everything.”
”He was trying to hurt Wilbur,” she explained.
He smiled. ”I see.”
”He's just a helpless old cat,” she said.
”No need to explain. I used to have a cat, myself.”
”What happened to it?”
He didn't like the memory. ”I had to give it away. I was transferred to another city and the apartment didn't allow cats.”
”That's sad,”
”There was a little girl next door who loved cats. I gave it to her.”
She wanted to know about him, about his past. But she sensed that he was very much like her; he didn't talk about himself.
She was noticing other things. He smelled of a nicely masculine aftershave. He smelled of soap, too. He was a fastidious man. His s.h.i.+rts were always starched and pressed, his boots highly polished. His skin was olive tan, and his eyes were dark and mysterious. He had high cheekbones and a sensuous mouth.
The thought embarra.s.sed her. She hadn't thought of a mouth being sensuous before. And she was having some odd sensations because of the way he was holding her, so that one of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s was almost flattened against his broad chest. Her heartbeat accelerated, and her breath came unsteadily past her lips.
He felt those reactions in her with an odd sense of pride. She was afraid of men but she was vulnerable with him.
He carried her into the house and put her down in an easy chair. ”Do you have an Ace bandage?”
She gave him a wide-eyed look. ”And what would I be doing with an Ace bandage?” she asked reasonably.
”Good question.” He eyed her calmly. ”We could manage with some gauze and adhesive tape, I suppose.”
”n.o.body normal uses that on cuts,” she pointed out. ”We have Band-Aids.”
He pursed his lips. ”We could use an old pair of panty hose.”
”I don't wear...”
He held up a hand. ”Please. I have problems discussing women's underthings.”
At first she took it seriously, and then she saw the twinkle in his dark eyes and she started laughing.
The action made her face glow, emphasized the softness of her gray eyes and the beauty of her perfect skin and pretty mouth. He found himself staring down at her helplessly. Her hair was up in a high ponytail. He wanted to take it down and see if it felt as silky as it looked.
”Well, you're going to have to come home with me,” he said. ”I'm sure Miss Turner can find something to bind your ankle with.”
”I've only just come back home,” she pointed out. ”And Wilbur has to be fed.”
He shrugged. ”I'll feed Wilbur.”
”I suppose I could leave him inside,” she began. ”I just bought a litter box...”
He left her in midsentence to attend to the old tomcat, who came right in when he opened the front door and led him to the kitchen.
HE HELPED GRACE into his car, leaning over her to fasten her seat belt. He noticed her breathing changed as he came close, and his gaze suddenly dropped to meet hers in the glare of the top light. It was like lightning striking. His dark eyes narrowed and fell to her full mouth, lingering there until he heard a faint gasp come out of her throat.
He had to force himself to stand up. He closed her door and moved around the car, reciting silent multiplication tables to himself as he got in beside her and started the car. It really had been a long, dry spell, if this frumpy woman was arousing him, he told himself.
He carried her into the house, pausing to ring the doorbell and wait for Miss Turner to answer it. He looked down into Grace's face and felt his arms involuntarily drawing her closer. She s.h.i.+vered, once, and her hands stole up around his neck as she met the open curiosity of his gaze.