Warrior For One Night. Nancy Gideon

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      They swarmed the E.R. like soldiers storming the battlements. Her family, her friends, pushing him out of the way. He shouldn’t have resented surrendering his seat at her bedside. And he wondered why he did.

      He’d been sitting on the hard metal chair for the past four hours while emergency staff plugged her in and took her vitals. He acted as if he belonged there and after a while, they stopped questioning his right to be. He didn’t interfere with them, content to remain a silent sentinel, her hand within the curl of his fingers, his attention riveted to her pale features. All the alarm and fear that hadn’t surfaced while confronting the thugs in the hotel whispered through him now as he kept an anxious eye on the monitors and waited for her to wake up—this gutsy woman who would risk her life for him. The fact that she was well paid to do so never quite entered the equation.

      They wheeled her out briefly to get a CT scan. While he sat alone behind the curtained walls, with sounds of weeping and suffering on either side of him, he noticed with an odd detachment the blood splashed on his shirtfront and hands. He stared at the dark patterns for a long moment before finally getting up to wash them off in the small sink. That’s when his hands started shaking, tremors spreading until they raced all the way to the soles of his no-longer spotless shoes. Delayed shock. A trickle-down of adrenaline. That’s all it was. His eyes squeezed tight. She could have died right then, right there, protecting his lie.

      “Mel?”

      Xander scooped a palmful of water and dashed it on his face. Using the sleeve of his ruined jacket to towel it dry, he turned to the anxious man staring at the empty bed in horror.

      “She’s getting tests done.”

      Relief dropped the older man to the chair Xander had vacated. He sat sucking air, his face pale as the lightweight cotton blanket folded at the end of the bed.

      “I’m Xander Caufield.”

      Dazed eyes lifted to register his presence. “Charley Parrish. Mel’s my niece. Is she all right? What happened?”

      Before he could begin, there was a ruckus in the hall. Six men smelling of smoke and hard work pushed their way past the curtain, followed by a harried nurse. They all talked at once, addressing Charley Parrish as if he had the answers. No one paid Xander the least bit of attention.

      Then Mel’s welcome voice intruded. “Hey, you guys mind keeping it down. There are sick people in here.”

      They parted to allow room for the gurney carrying a pale but smiling Mel Parrish, then quickly closed ranks about her bed. Leaving Xander on the outside.

      “They find anything in that empty head of yours?”

      “What’s the other guy look like?”

      “Like we don’t have enough to do without worrying about your sorry butt. Hey, Charley. How ya doing?”

      “That was one helluva scare you gave us when we heard it on the scanner, One Night.”

      “Give her room to breathe, fellas.”

      Xander observed them, these big, gruff men all jockeying for the chance to clutch her hand within their dirty paws while she looked up at them with obvious affection. The scene acted strangely upon him. These were the ones who loved her and were loved in return. Hearing she was in trouble, they’d dropped everything to come running. Though they joked and grumbled about the inconvenience, the edge of worried concern was etched in each rugged face. That told him more about Mel Parrish than any amount of research he could have gathered.

      “Hey, is this where the party is?”

      “Sir, gentlemen, you can’t all go in there!”

      “Hey, One Night. Whatcha doing on that bed all by yourself? Want some company?”

      “Why? Do you have a good-looking friend?”

      Laughter. Warm and rich with relief as more of the men shouldered their way into the small sterile space. Crowding Xander—with his bloodstained clothes and unfamiliar face—out. He lingered a moment longer, absorbing the sight of her surrounded by her fiercely protective posse of devoted comrades, her smile wide and reckless, her eyes shiny with emotion. Then he picked up his case and backed away unnoticed.

      By all but one.

      Chapter 4

      It was her worst hangover squared.

      Moving woke an Anvil Chorus between her temples punctuated by the cannons from the 1812 Overture. Every inch of her ached. She had no business crawling out of bed, except the business she had to take care of. She’d used all her persuasive powers on the physician at the E.R. to agree to let her go home without an overnight stay.

      Now, to find out if she still had a job.

      After shaking a few more pain relievers into her hand and swallowing them dry, she gathered the courage to knock.

      He’d saved her butt the night before. There was no way around that. Her mistakes had almost gotten them both killed. If she had a scrap of self-respect, she’d make her apologies and gracefully resign. But she needed the paycheck. Desperately. And now she had the E.R. bill hanging over her head, bouncing behind her aching eyes like a bad check.

      He’d done more than come to her rescue. That’s what chafed her emotions raw. He’d stayed with her. Though she’d been drifting in and out, the only constant she could recall was his presence. And she’d clung to it and the firm press of his hand. In the ambulance, in the E.R., he’d stuck by her, offering up a small smile of encouragement as she lay helpless. She hadn’t had the chance to thank him. And he hadn’t told her goodbye. She’d tried to find him through the thick forest of her friends but he was gone. And even though she’d been surrounded by noisy familiarity, she’d felt suddenly alone.

      The door opened and they stood face-to-face.

      A rush of complex feelings had Mel tongue-tied and awkward. What did you say to a man who’d saved your life and babysat you through a trauma unit? What did you say when your heart was abruptly hammering hard and fast with a press of emotions that gratitude couldn’t come close to explaining? The urge to fling her arms about his neck and steam the stiffness from his lips with her kiss had her trembling in an effort at restraint.

      His brusque attitude saved her from that mistake.

      “I need to make another pickup from the seller in California. He’s gotten an offer for the rest of his collection and the buyer wants a look at it first.”

      He stepped back from the door and went to get his coat. Mel blinked, totally off balance. No inquiry as to her health. No sign of concern whatsoever. After cradling her hand and wearing her blood on his designer clothes, he was back to all business as if they’d never shared…What? What had they shared? What was she trying to make out of it? She cleared her throat gruffly and squared her stance, trying to appear competent and in control while her careening thoughts and emotions pinballed inside her.

      “I got a clean bill to fly.”

      He didn’t even glance around. “I assumed as much or you wouldn’t be here.”

      I’m fine. Thank you for asking.

      He СКАЧАТЬ