Dash of Peril. Lori Foster
Читать онлайн книгу.
it would take to get back on her feet.
She half turned, and Dash carefully slid one arm under her thighs, the other behind her back so he could lift her out. He handled her weight without a single sign of strain, cradling her against his broad, warm chest.
A lesser woman would have stayed put and let him carry her in.
She had not been raised to be a lesser woman.
“Thank you.” She truly appreciated the assistance since his truck rode so high off the ground. The very prospect of hopping out made her ache all over. “I can walk from here.” I hope.
At close range, his deep brown eyes took her measure. “You’ll insist?”
“Yes.”
“Shame, since I like holding you.” He treated her to a molten look, and then slowly bent so that her feet touched the ground. He continued to hold on to her until she’d steadied herself. Tucking her coat back around her, he asked, “Okay?”
It hurt to breathe, but she nodded.
“So stubborn.” He reached in to the floor and snagged up her purse, the stuff Logan had brought him and the bag of her bloodied clothes. The clothes she would pitch, but thank God he’d had the foresight to retrieve her purse from her car.
Her brand-new ruined car.
That alone warranted a groan, but she bit it back and tried not to drag her feet along the lit walkway to her front door. Because of the splint and sling, her coat was only draped over her left shoulder and the bitter wind easily tore it away again. The borrowed scrubs were no barrier at all and the chill cut right through to her bones. Tiredly, she readjusted her coat again.
Dash transferred his load to one hand and with the other wrapped her up close. “Come on. The last thing you need is a cold on top of everything else.”
Given her hectic work schedule, she got home at all different hours. The outdoor lights were automated, set to come on at dusk and go off again at dawn. She had plenty of mature trees that blocked the rising sun in the front, but they’d be flickering off very soon.
“Nice place.”
Ha. Dash hadn’t looked around; ever since the doctor had allowed him behind the curtain at the hospital, she’d felt his constant attention focused on her.
No one had ever scrutinized her as he did; it went beyond the intimate way a man watched a woman he wanted. What it meant, she didn’t know for sure because she’d never encountered it before.
She knew Dash was worried because he only smiled when he knew she was watching. But the emotion in his eyes held more than worry—and it unnerved her, making her uncomfortable in a very foreign way.
They reached the front door and, knowing it’d be futile, she turned to face him. Maybe it was the pain meds or the confusion from the concussion—or even plain-old indecision. But she hadn’t been able to work up a credible way to refuse him. Not that he’d really asked for permission. Because the doctor announced she shouldn’t be alone given her concussion, Dash had volunteered himself to babysit. Now that she’d had some time to get her thoughts together, she decided he’d be safer well away from her.
And she’d be safer...without his presence making her feel things she shouldn’t.
Staring him in the eyes, hoping she sounded convincing, she said, “Thank you for the ride.” She lifted her chilled fingers for a handshake—and Dash grinned.
Folding her fingers in his and drawing her hand to his chest, he asked, “Is that your way of trying to get rid of me?”
Yes. “You don’t need to stay.”
He shifted so that his body blocked the wind, stepped close enough that his broad shoulders shielded her from daylight. “Would you rather have Logan or Reese?”
She shuddered at the thought. “No.” If it was truly necessary, she did have family. Albeit, not anyone she’d want around when she wasn’t 100 percent. But she had an alarm she could set, and—
“Are you seeing anyone?”
“No.” What a stupid idea. When did she have time for a committed relationship?
“Then I’m it, right? The doc said you couldn’t be alone, so if you make me leave, I’ll have to call my brother, and he will probably call—”
“All right!” She winced, pain slicing into her brain. Damn him, he knew she didn’t want her detectives seeing her in a debilitated state. “Do not call Logan.”
“I won’t,” Dash soothed. He lifted her purse and spoke in a rough whisper. “Your keys are in here?”
She was too cold, utterly fatigued and achy to debate this on the front porch. And contrary to common sense, she was also a little relieved that she wouldn’t be alone tonight. Eyes squeezed shut, she nodded. “Side zippered pocket.”
“Hang in there, honey. I’ll have you inside in a moment.” He set down the bag of clothes, located the keys and unlocked the door.
Immediately, Oliver stepped out, rubbing his downy white head against her shins.
Dash went still. “You have a cat?”
He could see that she did. “No, he must’ve broken in. Quick, call the cops.”
“Smart-ass.” With a little more incredulity, he said, “You have a really old cat.”
At the sound of Dash’s voice, Oliver halted, then hunched his back and hissed.
“He’s my puppy-cat.” It hurt like hell, but Margo bent down to him. “It’s okay, Ollie.” She stroked his head, tickled under his chin. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s go in.”
It wasn’t easy to walk with the cat winding nervously in and out around her ankles. She stumbled her way to the sofa and gingerly sank onto the cushions so that Ollie could join her. He jarred her injured elbow when he leapt up beside her. She gritted her teeth and let him butt his head on her free hand, then rub the length of his body against her uninjured arm.
Dash closed the door and now, with him inside her home, the reality of her situation really hit. She looked at him, saw him watching her curiously, and wanted to curl up and sleep for days.
Instead she said, “Ollie is blind.”
Dash stayed silent, but his expressive eyes gave him away. He thought her softhearted.
Sweet.
He thought she was gentle, like most women.
She should disabuse him of those notions ASAP, but she didn’t have the energy. Not right now.
Almost like a reminder of what they’d just endured and how proficient he’d been under pressure, Dash still wore the shirt with her dried blood all over it. Disheveled brown hair and beard shadow added a rugged edge to his good looks. Even holding a purse didn’t detract from his machismo.
She swallowed. “When I got him, Ollie already had a long list of medical issues, but he was so affectionate, such a big loving mush, that I couldn’t turn him away.” Maybe she was softhearted after all, at least when it came to her cat. “We suit each other.”
“Because you’re a big loving mush, too?”
Yes. “That’s not what I meant.” But what had she meant? She shook her head.
Dash let it go. “He lost an eye?”
“Yes.” Ollie tilted toward her, demanding she pet him harder, wanting her to use both hands. Poor guy. No way for her to explain that he’d only be getting one-handed pets for a few days. “He can’t really see out of the other. He survived a tornado but was so damaged that his original owners couldn’t care for him anymore. They already had to rebuild and...”
“And,” Dash said, his brows pinching down, “he was a member of