Mr Right at the Wrong Time. Nikki Logan

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СКАЧАТЬ nodded. ‘I’ve never even been to hospital.’

      ‘Never?’

      She grasped at the normal topic of conversation. ‘Not counting my birth.’

      ‘Are you super-healthy or just super lucky?’

      ‘A little of both. And it helps when your parents won’t let you lift so much as a box without assistance.’ The same as every man she’d dated. ‘It’s hard to hurt yourself falling out of a tree when they are all off-limits. And streams. And streets.’

      ‘Protective, huh?’

      ‘You could say that.’ Or you could say her parents were competitive and bitter after their divorce and neither of them wanted to give the other the slightest ammunition. ‘They both went a bit overboard in protecting me.’ She’d grown up thinking that was normal. ‘It wasn’t until I left home that I realised other kids were allowed to make mistakes.’

      ‘How old were you when you left home?’

      ‘Twenty-two.’

      ‘So you get points for taking the initiative and getting out of there?’

      It hadn’t been easy to break away from both of them so, yeah, she did get points.

      But then she lost them again for leaping out of the frypan into the fire with a nightmare like Way ne.

      ‘Anyway, it’s just as well my parents aren’t here to see this,’ she joked. ‘They’d have me locked up for ever and never let me leave the house.’ Or they’d have each other in court trying to score points off me.

      ‘Give them credit for getting you this far in one piece,’ he murmured.

      She laughed, and then winced at the pain. ‘If you don’t count the broken leg and dislocated shoulder. And the bruised sternum.’

      ‘Don’t forget the gash on your forehead.’

      Really? Her hand slid up and followed the trail of stickiness down to her lashes. That explained the stinging in her eyes earlier. Lord, what must she look like? Black and blue and with the fine white powder from three airbags all over her? She wanted to check in the mirror, but that just smacked of way too much vanity. And it was too close to publicly declaring her interest in whether or not Sam was looking at her as her … or just as a person to be rescued.

      ‘Here …’ he said, curling between the seats again and bringing his face closer to hers. He efficiently swabbed at the superficial cut with a damp medicated wipe, and then fixed the two sides of the wound together with butterfly tape. Then he gently swabbed up some of the dried blood that ran down over her brow. Aimee stole a chance to breathe in some of his air.

      ‘You’ll be back to beautiful in no time,’ he said.

      The temptation to stare at his eyes close-up was overwhelming, but it seemed too intimate suddenly so she shifted her focus lower, to his lips, before forcing them away for something less gratuitous. Which was how she ended up staring at a freckle just left of his nose while he ministered to her wound.

      Freckle-staring seemed suitably modest.

      Awkwardness tangled in amongst the awareness suddenly zinging between them, and she struggled for something harmless to say. ‘I can honestly say that’s the first time anyone has ever said that to me. Especially by the dying light of a glow stick.’

      A deep frown cut his handsome face immediately as he seemed to realise that the iridescent emergency light had dimmed to something closer to a sickly, flickering candlelight. He stared at it as though he couldn’t quite believe he’d failed to notice, then disappeared into the back to rummage in his bottomless kit.

      ‘It’s got nothing to do with the colour in your cheeks,’ he said, snapping a second glow-stick to activate the chemicals inside, and reaching forward to place it next to the first. Las Vegas light filled the car, and for a heartbeat the tree outside the windscreen, but the graduated darkness beyond it that didn’t show a hint of ground.

      Aimee swallowed hard.

      ‘Look at how you’re handling yourself,’ he said. ‘You’re very calm, under the circumstances.’

      She captured his eyes in the mirror. ‘It just means I’m good at denial. It doesn’t mean I’m not afraid.’

      He stilled, and the intensity in his gaze reached right through the glass of the mirror and twisted around her lungs, preventing them from expanding. ‘I’m not leaving you, Aimee.’

      ‘I know,’ she squeezed out.

      ‘We’ll be out in a couple of hours.’

      ‘Uh-huh.’ But it sounded false even to her own ears.

      ‘You don’t believe me?’

      ‘I want to. I really do.’

      ‘Do you trust me?’

      Did she? She’d believed every single thing he’d said. She’d done every single thing he’d asked, without question, and not just because he’d pulled rank on her. Sam was trained, capable and compassionate, and he’d not done anything to earn her distrust. Even though she’d known him less than an hour she felt a more natural connection with him than some of the people she’d known her whole life.

      Wow. That was a bit sad.

      ‘I do trust you,’ she whispered. But he’d have no way of knowing how rare that was.

      ‘Then trust I’ll get you out of here.’

      She looked at him long and hard. ‘I know you want to.’

      ‘And I always get what I want.’

      As a kid, she’d practised for weeks to teach herself the one-eyebrow lift and she did it now, desperate to retreat from the chemistry swirling smoke-like around them. The butterfly tape over her left brow tugged slightly. ‘Such confidence.’

      ‘I don’t start something without finishing it. It’s a point of principle.’

      So how had he coped with those people he’d not been able to save? Maybe sitting in vehicles like this one with them, knowing he’d failed? Her heart ached for the memories he must have. But she wasn’t about to ask. For his sake … and hers.

      She shivered convulsively. ‘Did the temperature just drop?’

      ‘Hang on …’ He disappeared for a moment and then squeezed back through the gap with a tightly rolled silver tube. It unfolded into an Aimee-sized foil blanket. Together they tucked it around her as best they could. Down over her good leg. Carefully around her injured arm.

      Sam stroked back her hair from the neck brace with two fingers and tucked a corner of the blanket in behind her shoulder. Heat surged where he touched and became trapped beneath the insulation. A perverse little voice wondered if it would be inappropriate to ask him to touch her every ten minutes, to keep the heat levels optimum. She might as well get some use out of the unexpected chemistry between her and her knight-in-shining-fluoro. СКАЧАТЬ