Just A Memory Away. Helen Myers R.

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СКАЧАТЬ took her a few seconds, but she finally understood what he meant. He would feel claustrophobic in the stall. Whether this was a result of his injury, or something deeper, she had no way of knowing; but it didn’t appear as if she was going to be able to talk him out of it before the sun rose.

      “Holy Moly…” She sat back on her heels. “I’m definitely in way over my head here. You have to let me take you somewhere.”

      “No.”

      “To a doctor? For your own good?”

       “No!”

      Before she could react, he took possession of her wrists in a blood-draining grasp. He had impressive strength for an injured guy; in fact, his touch was so intense she had to bite back a cry. Sure, she’d been clawed, bitten and bullied time and again by the strays and abused animals she’d taken into her home; but this was different. This was more personal, more dangerous than anything she’d experienced before.

      “Listen to me.” Ever so slowly, she lowered her head so that her cheek stroked against the powerful fingers shutting off the blood supply to her hands. “You’re hurting me… and you’re frightening me.”

      He immediately let her go. Looking shocked, he touched her hair. “I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry.”

      The anguish in his voice was real, his touch gentle. Frankie abandoned her momentary impulse to run; however, she did sit up and eye him with renewed concern. “What am I going to do with you? Don’t you understand that you have to get cleaned up and get that dirt out of your wounds?”

      He frowned, looked at the shower stall and then at her again. “Can you help me?”

       Whoa.

      He couldn’t be serious? But no sooner did Frankie open her mouth to tell him that, than she realized she didn’t have a choice. This wasn’t an act. “Aw…no,” she moaned, “don’t do this to me.”

      “Please. It’s not what you’re thinking. I’m just not sure I can-”

      “Manage on your own in such a small space?” At his brief nod, she groaned inwardly. Granted, the male body was hardly an unknown commodity to her, but she hadn’t seen all that many. Did he realize what he was asking of her?

      Of course he did, she realized a moment later when a dark flush crept into his face. Otherwise he wouldn’t look as miserable and trapped as she felt.

      She sighed. “Am I a wuss or what?”

      “Sorry?”

      “Anyone can be a marshmallow,” she said, rising to slide open the shower door and turn on the water. “It takes a rare talent to be a wuss.”

      From the cabinet behind her, she took the biggest towel she owned and set it on the edge of the sink for when they were done. Then she slipped out of her sneakers.

      “Let’s get one thing straight,” she told the injured stranger as she tugged off her socks. “Any funny business and you’re dead meat, got it?”

      “Not feeling very funny.”

      “We’ll see.”

      She didn’t turn away from him as she stripped off her jeans. Modesty wasn’t the issue; and despite her comment, she didn’t think he looked as if he was in any shape to really pull something. What’s more her T-shirt and panties left her more covered than when swimming with Holly at her friend’s apartment pool.

      It was the stranger who presented the problem.

      “Okay,” she said, adjusting the hot-and cold-water taps. “I guess I’m ready if you are.”

      Frankie’s curiosity as to whether he was the modest type or not was answered seconds after she spoke. The stranger used her shoulder and the wall for support, and eased himself to his feet. The abandoned blanket simply fell away, and he stood before her as naked and unsteady as a one-year-old testing his legs for the first time.

       And you thought keeping something on would make things less sexual? Jonesy, you are daffier than Honey.

      She already considered the man a heartthrob, but that proved the father of all understatements. He was what the girls at the club would call a “stud.” Simply beautiful, as far as she was concerned. One inevitable cheater-glance downward, and she knew it would be a miracle if she got through this without making an absolute fool of herself.

      She slipped an arm around his waist to offer additional balance. “Easy. Easy.” She coaxed him into the stall. “You’re doing great.”

      “Feel lousy.”

      “There’s a built-in seat in here. You can sit down in just a second.”

      “Okay, just… don’t close the door.”

      “I won’t.” Things were cramped enough as it was. She’d never thought about how small the shower was in all the time she’d owned the Silver Duck. But the stranger changed that the instant they were both inside the cubicle and she tried to help him onto the triangular bench. It was impossible. No matter how badly she wanted to avoid it, those long legs of his were tantamount to trying to maneuver around redwood trees in a gym locker. If she wanted to get him settled, not to mention cleaned up, she would have to suffer through a bit more body contact.

      Tough work, Jonesy, but you are the only volunteer.

      “Wait a minute.” Already wet, she was drenched by the time she maneuvered him to where he needed to be. “And we haven’t even been properly introduced,” she muttered, the third and hopefully last time his nose bumped against her breast.

      Fortunately, he either didn’t hear her or else didn’t care to comment, and she quickly busied herself by adjusting the spray away from herself and back onto him. “Now, if you get dizzy or anything, hold on to me.”

      For the moment, however, he seemed content to lean back against the fiberglass wall and close his eyes. In fact, he looked as if it would take dynamite to move him again.

      That troubled her. “You can’t go to sleep on me.”

      “Tired.”

      “No, no, no. You have to help me to help you.”

      “Try…”

      She shook her wet hair out of her eyes and decided to work on his hair first. From the looks of the dirty water running down his face, she figured the sooner they got him cleaned up there, the better his chances of avoiding an infection in those cuts and scrapes.

      Fortunately she used a fragrance-free shampoo and soap, so she didn’t have to worry about an allergic reaction; but she did worry about causing him additional pain. She asked him several times as she carefully worked the soap into a rich lather whether she was hurting him or not, until she finally believed he meant it when he said she had an “angel’s touch.”

      “I sure hope so,” she said, getting more chatty to keep from focusing on how his thighs kept rubbing against hers. “I’d sure hate trying СКАЧАТЬ