Читать книгу Duty To Protect - Beth Cornelison - Страница 9

Chapter 4

While Riley returned to the parking lot to report her damaged door to the policeman on guard duty, Ginny started putting away the few toiletries she’d brought home from the hospital. Having her right arm in a cast was going to be a royal pain, especially if she wanted to prove to others she didn’t need a babysitter. She’d managed alone for too long to start depending on anyone else now.

Her orange and white, diabetic tabby, Zachary, hopped up on the bathroom counter and rubbed against her arm in greeting. “Hey, fella. How’s my boy? Did anyone remember to feed you and give you a shot this morning?”

Zach meowed and pawed at the faucet. When Ginny turned on the cool water, the cat ducked his head and started lapping at the trickle.

“Spoiled.” Smiling, Ginny stroked her cat’s back, but despite the familiar routine, her heart still raced from the shock of finding someone had tampered with her door. She took a few deep breaths and mentally reviewed the advice she gave her clients.

Fear is a tool used to control you. Take back control of your situation. Stay calm so you can think clearly.

Ginny blew her bangs out of her eyes. She had a new appreciation for the stress her clients dealt with.

Time to practice what she preached.

Your strength and healing will come from within yourself, not by looking to others.

A sharp rap sounded on her front door, and Ginny’s adrenaline spiked. Clapping a hand over her scampering heart, she hurried to the living room. “Riley?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

Ginny unhooked the chain guard and dead bolt, then looked through the peephole, just in case, before she opened her door.

“So what did the officer say?” she asked him as he strode into her living room, his rough-hewn masculinity in stark contrast to the feminine decor of her apartment.

“He’s calling it in, getting a crime scene team to come out. He’s checking the grounds now, but he’ll be here in a minute to take your statement.”

“Another statement.” She sighed and dropped onto her gingham-covered couch. “I don’t know what else I could possibly tell them. My shoe size, maybe?”

Riley gave her a sympathetic grin and shrugged.

She took a cleansing breath. “Look, I was just about to fix some lunch,” she lied. The idea of food turned her stomach, but making lunch would give her something to do, might serve as a distraction from her fruitless worrying. “Do you want a sandwich?”

He nodded. “Sure. I’ll help.”

But as she headed toward her kitchen, her doorbell heralded the arrival of the officer from the parking lot and the crime scene crew. For the next ninety minutes, she was busy repeating everything that had happened over the past thirty-six hours. She cringed as the technicians dusted for prints, and a fine coating of the powder settled on her carpet, her furniture. She’d be forever cleaning the reminder of the would-be intruder out of her apartment.

Through it all, she was hyperaware of Riley’s presence. He stood back, giving the investigators room to work, but his imposing height and wide shoulders were always in the periphery of her vision, in her thoughts. His presence filled her with a reassurance she couldn’t explain. Maybe because he’d already saved her life once.

As the officer finished his questions, Riley sat next to Ginny on the couch and took her left hand in his, squeezing her fingers gently. “You doin’ okay?”

“Yeah, just tired.” She lifted her eyes to meet his, and a corner of his sexy mouth tipped up.

When I revived you, you missed the whole your-lips-on-mine thing.

Two hours earlier, she’d kissed those lips, been swept away by their hypnotic lure. The memory sent a renewed shimmy of heat curling through her veins, chasing out a fraction of the chill that lingered, given that Walt Compton was most likely the person who’d tried to break into her apartment.

But physical chemistry was no substitute for knowing what made a man tick, knowing who he was beneath the stunning smile and wide chest. Although having Riley near was comforting, Ginny reminded herself that his presence was temporary, and she needed to rely on her own strengths and coping mechanisms after today. She had to get back to her normal routine, back to work. People were counting on her.

“I need to check on Annie,” she thought aloud. “If Walt has been this determined to come after me, what has he done about finding her? She’s in more danger than I am.”

“You just got home from the hospital.” Riley frowned. “You’ve had problems of your own to deal with. I’m sure the other ladies that work at the women’s center have taken good care of Annie. Right now, you need to rest.”

“The other women from the center have their hands full relocating our offices after the fire and dealing with their own clients’ needs.” Ginny pushed herself off the sofa and scanned the living room, looking for her cordless phone. “Annie is my responsibility, no matter who picked up my slack after the fire. I won’t be able to rest until I know she and her kids are safe.”

Spotting the receiver on the side table by her reading chair, Ginny stepped over Riley’s long legs to get the phone. While she talked to one of the women from her office, confirming that Annie and her kids were doing well at the shelter, she overheard Riley thanking the policemen for their help and reminding them to keep a vigilant watch on the apartment.

Ginny would much rather the police focused their efforts on watching the women’s shelter and tracking down Walt than on guarding her door.

By the time she got off the phone, Riley had made them each a sandwich and had brought hers out to the coffee table on a paper plate. Motioning her back to the couch, he said, “Get off your feet. You need to rest.”

When another knock reverberated through the room, she headed for her door, only to be sidetracked by Riley.

“I’ll get it. You sit. Eat something.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “You’re starting to sound like my mother.”

Riley opened the door and sent Ginny a wry grin. Speaking of whom… he mouthed.

“Why are there so many police cars outside? What happened?” Hannah rushed into the living room, and Ginny suppressed a sigh.

“Standard procedure and basic questions, Mom. Nothing to worry about.”

Riley stepped forward and motioned to Hannah. “Actually, Mrs. West, Ginny was just about to take a nap. Why don’t we leave her alone to rest? If you want to assist me, I was just about to help Ginny with some maintenance repairs.”

Her mother divided a glance between Ginny and Riley. “You’re sure you’re all right? Can I do anything for you?”

Ginny smiled. “Go home, and quit worrying. I’ll call if I need you.”

“Promise?”

“Mom—”

Hannah raised her hands. “Okay. I can take a hint.” She walked back to the door and aimed a finger at Riley. “Take care of my girl.”

He nodded. “You bet.”

With her home now emptied of policemen and overprotective parents, Ginny felt the tension seep from her. She wilted like a deflated balloon against the sofa cushions.

“You got a wrench?” Riley asked.

She blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“While you unwind a little, I thought I’d tinker with your sink…or was it your dishwasher that was on the fritz?”

She lifted the corner of her mouth in a weary grin. “The dishwasher doesn’t drain. Floods the floor when I run it.” She closed her eyes, feeling the weight of the past two days’ events crushing down on her. “If I have a wrench, it’ll be in the utility closet at the end of the hall.”

Flopping over on her side, she tucked a throw pillow under her cheek and worked to find a comfortable position for her injured arm.

“Holler if you need anything.” Riley leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple.

Ginny was too worn out to respond, too tired to question why Riley’s chaste kiss caused a knee-jerk, uneasy stir in her gut. She’d analyze that incongruity later.

Riley found and cleared the clog in Ginny’s dishwasher without much trouble. Putting the contraption back together and getting it operational again was another matter. A little over an hour after he started the repair, he was washing up and returning the tools he’d found in her closet to their rightful place.

He’d heard suspiciously little from the living room since he left Ginny on the sofa to rest, and when he rounded the couch looking for her, he learned why. She was sacked out. Completely dead to the world.

Dead.

Bad analogy, Riley thought as a little shudder crept up his spine. He still had an all too clear mental image of her limp and nearly lifeless body lying in the burning office.

Even now the blue-black shadows that marred her pale skin served as a jarring reminder of her ordeal. The thick cast on her arm stood in stark contrast to Ginny’s petite frame. Her fat, orange and white cat had curled up beside her and slept nestled against her chest much like a child’s teddy bear.

Vulnerable came to mind as he studied her sleeping. She’d hate to be called that. That much he already knew about his seductive neighbor. She had spirit and determination and attitude in spades. And though she seemed hell-bent on doing everything for herself, never letting anyone see a hint of weakness, he still sensed something when he was around her that made him long to shield and protect her.

Or maybe it was his own ghosts rattling their chains that made him so desperate to keep Ginny safe.

He sat down on the edge of the coffee table and indulged in a closer inspection of her delicate features. Freckles paraded across her pert nose, and she’d long ago nibbled the lipstick off her full rose lips. An errant wisp of her white-blond hair tumbled across her sculpted cheek.

As he watched her, a tiny pucker formed on her brow, and she shivered, goose bumps forming on her bare arms.

Riley reached for the afghan on the back of the couch and stood to shake it out. Carefully, he draped the cover over Ginny.

But the afghan had barely touched her before her eyes flew open and she bolted upright with a gasp. Her arms came up in a defensive move.

The startled cat jumped down from the sofa and trotted off in a huff.

“Easy there. It’s just me.” Riley sat back down on the coffee table and sent her an apologetic grin. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just thought you might be cold.”

Ginny released a deep breath and, squeezing her eyes shut, dragged her fingers through her tousled hair. “I guess I’m a little jumpy.”

“You think?”

She shot him a look that said smart aleck, but tempered it with a sleepy smile.

“Hey, you have every right to be jumpy. Your life’s been threatened twice in the last forty-eight hours. That’s enough to spook anyone.”

“True. But I’m not usually so high-strung. I need to get a grip.” She lay back down and stretched her good arm over her head, yawning. “How long was I asleep?”

“’Bout an hour and a half.”

“Mmm.” Her eyes drifted closed again. “How goes the battle with the dishwasher?”

“I think I subdued the monster. You had a clogged drain, but all seems to be well now.”

She blinked. “You fixed it? Really?”

“Really.”

Her face lit with wonder and admiration. She clapped her hand over her heart and sighed airily. “My hero!”

Though he forced his lips to match her playful grin, a biting cold balled in his gut. Her lighthearted adoration prodded his internal demons from shadowed corners of his memory. His failures from the past loomed large and dark in his mind’s eye. He had to swallow the knot of bitter defeat in his throat before he could speak. “You’re too easily impressed.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be modest. You’ve saved me from tedious hours of dishwashing at a time when I don’t have a spare hand to do it.” She held up her cast-covered arm. “That’s no small thing. What do I owe you for your services?”

He scowled and waved her off. “Nothing. Glad to help.”

“Dinner at least. My treat.” She took the phone from the coffee table near his hip and waggled it. “You pick the takeout. Suddenly I’m famished.”

The flirtatious spark returned to her eyes, the come-hither invitation that always succeeded in revving his engine. Despite the thrum of desire that swept over him, he couldn’t shake the nip of apprehension that nagged him.

My hero.

If Ginny had any delusions of him being heroic or worthy of her admiration, he was doomed to disappoint her.

Just as he’d let Erin down.

Just as he’d failed his sister.

The last thing he wanted was to hurt Ginny, but the gratitude in her eyes gave him pause. He’d had all the misplaced hero-worship and high expectations he could handle. If he hadn’t promised her mother to stay and keep an eye on her, he’d have made an excuse to leave, to go back to his apartment and forget his overwhelming attraction to Ginny.

Yet his own sense of duty, his deep-seated need to protect her compelled him to stay. His chest tightened with the same tug-of-war that had plagued him since he left her at the hospital the night before.

He wanted to keep her safe, but doing so risked his own peace of mind, risked exposing truths he couldn’t face. Their relationship had to meet his terms, or Ginny could get hurt.

Ginny could be plenty stubborn when she wanted.

She sawed clumsily on her pizza with the edge of her fork, determined not to give up. She’d quickly found holding a gooey slice of pizza with her nondominant hand both messy and awkward. She’d resorted to using a fork, lest she end up with a lapful of pepperoni and cheese, but the fork was proving an equal challenge. Especially since Zachary kept trying to share her food.

She nudged her cat away from her plate again with a chuckle. “Vamoose, chubs. This is my dinner.”

Riley reached over from his end of the couch and lifted Zach to the floor. “Scat, cat.” Moving his empty paper plate to the coffee table, he scooted closer to Ginny. “Can I help? You’re gonna starve before you get that fork to cooperate.”

“No, thanks. I gotta figure this out for myself. I’ve got five weeks of eating left-handed ahead of me and I—”

“Here.” Riley plucked a slice of pepperoni from her pizza and held it up to her mouth.

She cocked her head and sighed her exasperation. “I said I didn’t—”

With a devilish gleam in his eyes, he poked the spicy meat between her lips.

Ginny arched an eyebrow. Two could play this game.

She caught his wrist, and as he withdrew his hand, she sucked the sauce from his finger. “Mmm.”

Riley’s pupils dilated, and she heard his breath catch.

She gave him a sassy grin as she chewed, then washed the bite down with a sip of red wine. “You’re right. Forks are overrated.”

He leaned closer. “There’s more where that came from.”

She met him halfway and raised her face. He molded her lips with his, then teased her mouth with his tongue. His kiss tasted like wine and heat and sweet seduction. Ginny’s head swam, and she angled her head to draw him even closer.

She reveled in his kiss, sure she’d found nirvana. Riley Sinclair was too good to be true, she thought again.

Too good.

An odd flutter of uneasiness stirred in her chest, and she sat back to collect herself. Things were going too fast. Too well.

Riley was gorgeous and brave and thoughtful and sweet. But what did she really know about him?

Too many of her clients had used similar words to describe the men they thought they’d known before those same men had turned on them and shown a darker side. Her own history with men proved she was too easily swayed by first impressions.

The extreme events of the past few days and the intense chemistry that crackled between her and Riley had fast-forwarded their relationship. She of all people should know better than to race blindly into a situation without some level of precaution. Common sense reared its head and cooled the fire licking her veins.

She had to peel away Riley’s layers and get at the heart of this man. She need assurance that he was the kind of guy she could trust. She wanted proof that his character, his soul was as golden as he seemed at face value.

Clearing her throat, Ginny set her plate aside and gave him a measuring glance. “So, fireman, I know you kiss like a pro. I know you’re handy with home repairs and are skilled in CPR. But I want to know more. What’s the scoop?”