Читать книгу In Blackhawk's Bed - Barbara McCauley - Страница 7

“Beau! Down!”

The animal stopped instantly at the woman’s command and went into a crouch. Seth released the breath he’d been holding.

Good God, he thought. What next? A swarm of killer bees would rain down on him or maybe a meteor would fall out of the sky and he’d be right in its path?

“Good boy,” Hannah said sweetly to the dog. “Stay.”

Beau wagged his tail and obeyed Hannah’s command, but his black eyes quickly darted back to the stranger.

“Nice dog you’ve got there.” Seth kept a close eye on the animal.

“He belongs to Mrs. Peterson, but he’s sort of adopted me and the girls. He’ll be fine now.” Hannah turned back around. “You don’t have to worry.”

“Did I say I was worried?” Seth said irritably. “I crash my motorcycle through fences, fall out of trees and face ferocious dogs all the time. Just another day in the life.”

Hannah raised a brow. “You must have a very interesting life, Mr—”

“Granger. Seth Granger.”

“Well, Mr. Granger,” she said. “Since you’re so determined to be up, why don’t we get you inside? The doctor should be here shortly and he can take a look at that head of yours.”

“There’s nothing to look at,” Seth insisted, then frowned when the woman smiled. “I mean, I’m fine.”

“Maybe so, but it wouldn’t hurt to—”

“Look.” He brushed grass off his shirt. “I appreciate your concern, and I’m glad your little girl is all right. I’ll just stop by a repair shop in town and have my bike checked, then be on my way.”

Seth wasn’t certain exactly what happened next. He’d taken a step toward his bike and his leg just went out from under him. Hannah gasped and made a lunge at him, but as her arms came around him, intended to stop his fall, she went down, too.

Because he couldn’t stop it, he held her tight and brought her down on top of him, rather than underneath him.

Damn. This was the second time he’d found himself holding this woman close. She felt even better this time, with her body snug against his, lying on top of him. The heat of her skin seeped through his T-shirt and the feel of her long legs stretched out over his made the pain in his leg and the pounding in his head secondary.

At the sound of a low growl, Seth closed his eyes, then sighed heavily.

“All right,” he said through clenched teeth. “You and Killer here win. I’ll wait for the doc.”

“You’re a lucky man.” Dr. Lansky, dressed in a blue plaid shirt and beige fisherman shorts, pushed his glasses up his nose as he stared at his patient’s leg. “Looks like you’ve got just a nasty sprain instead of a break.”

Since the doctor and Hannah had brought Seth into the house and settled him on the sofa, then stripped off his torn T-shirt and slit his jeans open to expose his ankle, he’d been surrounded by chaos. The phone had rung several times, neighbors had knocked on the door and a small crowd had gathered to watch Seth’s motorcycle be towed away by the repair shop. His head was pounding like a drum and his leg hurt like a son of a bitch.

Of all the things that Seth felt, lucky was not one of them.

He ground his teeth together, struggling to hold back the swear words threatening to erupt. At least the cut on his head hadn’t required stitches and the scratch on his shoulder was only superficial. He glanced at Hannah, who stood beside the sofa, her pretty lips pressed together with concern. Seth watched as two little blond, curly-topped heads—obviously twins—peeked from each side of their mother’s hips and stared at him with big blue eyes.

With that blond hair and those blue eyes, Seth thought, there was no question the girls looked like their mother. Given all this commotion, Seth couldn’t help but wonder where the twins’ father was.

Seth glanced at Hannah’s hand. No ring.

“We should X-ray to be sure, though.” The balding doctor continued to stare at Seth’s swollen ankle. “Can’t be too careful, you know.”

“I can drive him to the hospital,” Hannah offered. “Just let me get my—”

“That won’t be necessary.” Seth shook his head, wished that he hadn’t when a bolt of pain shot through his skull. “It’s not broken.”

“So, Mr. Granger—” the doctor slipped his glasses off and settled them in the pocket of his shirt “—along with your ability to fly and scale tall trees in a single bound, you also have X-ray vision?”

“I’ve had a broken bone or two.” Four to be exact, Seth thought, plus he’d been shot once and stabbed twice. He’d be damned if he’d let a twisted ankle get the better of him. “I’ll be fine by the morning.”

“I’m sure you will.” The doctor took a prescription pad out of the black leather bag he’d brought over. “In the meantime, you might want to take some pain medication. I recommend that you stay off that foot for several days.”

“That’s not possible. I need to get back on the road right away.”

Dr. Lansky ripped the prescription from his pad, then handed it to Hannah. “I don’t see any signs of concussion, but keep an eye on him, anyway. Clammy skin, eyes dilated, confusion.”

“Should I change the dressing over his eye?” she asked.

“In the morning should be fine, you can—”

“Hey,” Seth interrupted. “First of all, I’m sitting right here, you can talk to me. Second, I can change my own dressing. And third, I won’t be here in the morning.”

“Whatever you say.” With raised eyebrows, the doctor glanced at Hannah, then looked at the two little girls and smiled. “Mrs. Lansky is outside passing out cookies. You girls want one?”

The children looked earnestly at their mother. Clearly they understood they’d caused all the commotion, but cookies were cookies, after all, and they could only hope.

Any other time, Hannah would have said absolutely not. Any other time, her daughters would be sitting in their room with a major time-out, probably until they were old enough to drive.

But the fact was, Hannah herself was still shaken by the afternoon’s events. She needed a minute or two to gain her composure and every time she looked at Maddie, every time she thought about what might have happened, her hands started to shake.

She crossed her arms and gave Maddie and Missy her you-are-both-in-big-trouble look. “One cookie, then up to your rooms.”

The girls skipped out ahead of the doctor, who cast one long, disapproving look at Seth, then went out the front door.

“I don’t believe it.” Seth laid his head back against the sofa and stared at the ceiling. “I crash my bike and your neighbors are out socializing in your front yard and passing around cookies. Probably fruitcake cookies.”

“Probably chocolate chip, if Mrs. Lansky made them.” Hannah moved closer to the couch. “Would you like one?”

He glanced up at her, and his narrowed, dark expression might have made her step away if she hadn’t already figured out he wasn’t nearly as dangerous as he appeared.

Well, at least, she didn’t think he was.

She’d been so worried for the past hour, she hadn’t taken the time to really look at the man. With his long legs and broad shoulders, he practically filled her small, rose floral sofa. Dr. Lansky had raised his patient’s left leg onto her coffee table, and she’d slipped a sofa pillow under his sprained ankle. He hadn’t complained once that he was in pain, but she’d seen a muscle twitch in his jaw when the doctor had asked him to bend his foot.

His hair was long, nearly to his shoulders, black and thick and shiny. His eyebrows, just as dark as his hair, slashed over eyes as hard and black as obsidian. His strong, square jaw hadn’t been shaved for a while, which only added to that menacing look of his face, and underneath his firm, serious mouth, was a small, jagged scar.

She noticed another scar that sliced like a lightning bolt across his right bicep, let her gaze slide downward to his broad, bare chest, a chest lightly sprinkled with dark hair that narrowed downward over a hard, flat belly and disappeared behind the snap of his jeans.

Oh, my.

Hannah swallowed hard, then jerked her eyes back up to his face. Her heart skipped as he met her gaze with his own. His expression wasn’t quite as fierce as it had been a moment ago, though it was certainly just as intense. She might have been offended at the blatant interest in his eyes if she hadn’t been the one staring so hard at him.

“Mr. Granger—”

“Seth.”

“Seth.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “I don’t know how to thank you for saving Maddie the way you did.”

When he said nothing, just gave her a look that said he might have a suggestion or two, Hannah quickly continued. “I’m still not sure exactly what happened, but from what little I managed to gather, she’d accidentally tossed Suzie, her doll, up in the tree and it caught on a branch. Both of my daughters then conveniently forgot they aren’t allowed to climb trees without adult supervision. If you hadn’t come along when you did—”

“I did,” Seth said with a shrug. “And she’s fine.”

“Yes.” Hannah heard her daughters’ laughter outside on the porch and said a silent prayer of thanks. “But you, however, and your motorcycle, are not. I’m deeply sorry for that, and any inconvenience we’ve caused you.”

“Look,” Seth sighed, “it’s done, and it is what it is. I’ll stay overnight in town, get my bike back in the morning and be on my way.”

Hannah put a hand out to stop Seth when he lifted his leg and set it on the floor, but he ignored her warning. She watched as his jaw tightened, and his face went pale. The slow breath he exhaled pretty much said it all: he wasn’t going anywhere on that leg. Not now, and not in the morning, either.

Men. They could be such fools at times.

“Seth.” She sat on the sofa beside him and gently lifted his leg back up on the cushion. Perspiration beaded his forehead. “I admire your determination, but it might be time for you to consider a new plan. I have a suggestion.”

“I can hardly wait to hear.” Seth closed his eyes and laid his head back on the sofa.

“Good. Because you’re going to.”

One of his eyes slid open. Hannah ignored the frown he gave her, then reached for the damp washcloth she’d laid on the coffee table and dabbed at his forehead.

He reached up and wrapped his hand around her upper arm.

Breath held, she waited for him to release her, but he didn’t. Both of his eyes were open now, that dark, intense gaze completely focused on her.

Hannah felt her pulse race as he continued to stare silently at her. His hand moved slowly up her arm; the texture of his callused palm on her skin sent ripples of electricity shimmering through her body.

She stared back at him, too startled to move, too startled even to speak. She’d never experienced anything like this before. Never experienced anything like him. When his gaze drifted to her mouth, her insides fluttered. The heat of his body, the masculine scent of his skin, overwhelmed her.

Time stopped. Time and a sense of where she was, who she was, and certainly who she was with. Nothing seemed to exist but this moment, this incredible heart-stopping, mind-blowing instant. If she’d had the presence of mind, she would have pulled away, would have even been offended at the brazen stroke of his thumb on her arm. But she didn’t pull away. She wasn’t offended.

She was turned on.

Her skin felt hot, she had trouble breathing and her breasts ached.

How is this possible? Hannah asked herself numbly. She certainly wasn’t the kind of woman who could be turned on by a stranger—she wasn’t even the kind of woman who was turned on by men she knew, for heaven’s sake. She’d accepted the fact long ago that she wasn’t like most women. Sex, when she’d been married, had been all right, she supposed, but she’d never understood what all the hoopla had been about.

“So what do you suggest I do?”

“What?” Hannah blinked, stared at Seth, then blinked again. She had all kinds of suggestions, none of which she would have had the courage to speak out loud. “Suggest?”

“You said you have a suggestion.” His hand slid up to her wrist, then he tugged the washcloth from her fingers and tossed it on the coffee table. “So what is it?”

A suggestion? Hannah struggled to gain her composure and remember exactly what she’d said before he’d touched her and turned her world upside down.

“I—you…well—” Hannah felt her cheeks flush, knew she sounded like a babbling idiot. So she just blurted it out. “You can stay here.”

“Here?” He tilted a look at her. “You mean in your house?”

“Yes.” Her pulse was still racing, but her breathing was nearly back to normal, thank goodness. “I’ve been converting my house to a bed-and-breakfast for the past six months. I only have two more bedrooms to finish and then I can open for business. You can stay in one of the rooms I’ve finished.”

He stared at her for what felt like minutes, though it was only seconds. She waited, breath held, until he finally said, “You’d let a complete stranger stay in your house?”

“I realize how naive that sounds,” Hannah said evenly. “But after what you did, the way you never even gave a thought to yourself when you saved Maddie, the way you talked to her when you climbed out on that branch, well, I’m certain you’re a person I can trust. I’ll just consider you the first guest of the Wild Rose.”

“The Wild Rose?”

“That’s what I’m going to call my bed-and-breakfast,” Hannah said. “You won’t even have to walk up any stairs. I have two finished guest rooms on the ground floor. You can have your pick.”

“Hannah.” Seth shook his head. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Well, actually, that’s not completely true.” Hannah shifted awkwardly. “Mrs. Peterson found your wallet on my front lawn. She insisted that it was lying open and she ‘just happened’ to notice your Albuquerque police badge.”

He lifted a brow. “‘Just happened’ to notice?”

Hannah reached for the wallet sitting on the end table. “Along with the fact that you’re single, thirty years old, six-foot-four, with black eyes and black hair.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t ‘just happen’ to notice my weight and the fact that I’m an organ donor, too,” he said sarcastically.

“Actually, she did. I’m sorry.” Her cheeks turned pink as she handed him the wallet. “You’re already a bit of a celebrity here. Billy Bishop from the Ridgewater Gazette wants to do a cover story on you.”

Terrific. Seth held back on the groan threatening to surface. Jarris would just love hearing that one of his undercover detectives had his picture plastered on the front page of this backwater town. Throw in the story about how he’d broken his superior’s nose after a bad bust last week, then how he’d been suspended for six weeks, and Jarris would probably be so happy he’d burst a blood vessel.

“No story. You tell Billy Bob—”

“Billy Bishop.”

“Whatever. You tell him absolutely, positively, no story.”

“I’ll try,” Hannah said hesitantly. “But you don’t know Billy.”

“Let’s keep it that way.” Seth stared at the bag of frozen peas covering his ankle. As much as he hated to admit it, his foot hurt like hell. He didn’t like it, but he knew he had to face the fact that he wasn’t going anywhere today and probably not tomorrow, either. “I’ll need to speak to the tow-truck driver before he leaves. I’ll need some kind of time frame on the repairs.”

“I’ll go see if he’s still here.” Hannah stood, glanced toward the front door and the sound of people talking outside. “I—I am sorry about all this. My daughters are usually very well behaved, but sometimes they act up when—” she hesitated, then drew in a slow breath “—when there’s a lot going on.”

Seth could tell that Hannah had been about to say one thing, then quickly changed her mind. He admitted it made him curious, but he shrugged it off. Whatever she’d been about to say was none of his business. Unless a person was a criminal or under investigation, he made it a rule never to interfere or pry into anyone’s life. He figured if he didn’t want people butting into his life, then he should keep his nose out of their business, as well.

But there was one thing he wanted to know, though. One thing he felt he needed to know. He glanced at her ringless hand again, but wasn’t about to make any assumptions.

“Will your husband have a problem with me staying here?”

She stilled at his question, then slowly shook her head. “I’m divorced. It’s just me and the girls here.”

Since he wouldn’t be around more than a couple of days, Seth knew it shouldn’t matter to him one way or the other, but the fact she was divorced pleased him. He supposed he just didn’t like the idea of lusting after a married woman. Though he didn’t have many rules in his life, there were a few he never broke.

“So you’re opening a bed-and-breakfast all by yourself?”

“Not exactly. My friend, Lori, is going to work with me two or three days a week, plus Mrs. Peterson next door has already offered her help if I need it. I’m not foolish enough to think I’ll have full occupancy the minute I open my doors, but there’s only one motel in town and we get quite a few people traveling through here.”

“Looking for the world’s largest fruitcake?”

She smiled, didn’t seem to take offense at the slight mocking tone in his voice. “As simple as it might sound to you, the giant fruitcake Wilhem’s Bakery bakes once a year is this town’s claim to fame. Most of the people who live here take it very seriously. And believe it or not, we get our fair share of tourists. With only one small motel in Ridgewater, I should be able to make a living, at least enough to support me and the girls.”

She turned at the knock on her front door. Her expression was apologetic when she looked back at him.

“My neighbors kept a respectable distance while the doctor was in here with you,” she said with a sigh. “But they can only be held at bay for so long. Whether you like it or not, you’re a hero, Mr. Granger, and the town of Ridgewater, Texas, home of the world’s largest fruitcake, is about to welcome you.”