Buckhorn Beginnings: Sawyer. Lori Foster

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СКАЧАТЬ Jordan lounged in the doorway, a small half-smile on his mouth. “Need any help?”

       And once again, Sawyer had to shove them all out the door. You’d think they’d never seen an attractive woman before, the way they were carrying on, when in fact they all had more than their fair share of female adoration. But as Sawyer closed the door and turned back to her, seeing her lounged in his bed, her long hair spread out over his pillow, her wide, watchful gaze, he knew he was acting as out of sorts as the rest of them. Maybe more so. He’d just never been so damn aware of a woman, yet with this woman, he felt he could already read her gaze. And he strongly reacted to it.

       That just wouldn’t do, not if he was going to be her doctor.

       He laid the shirt on the foot of the bed, resolute. “Come on.” After pulling the damp quilt aside, he hooked his hands beneath her arms, lifted her, then proceeded to unbutton the shirt he’d loaned her as if he did such things every day. She was silent for about half a second before suddenly coming to life. With a gasp, she began batting at his hands.

       “I can do it!” she rasped in her rough, crackly voice.

       He cradled her face in his palms. “Are you sure?”

       For long seconds they stared at each other, and just as his heartbeat began to grow heavy, she nodded.

       Pulling himself together, Sawyer sighed. “All right.” He suffered equal parts relief and disappointment. “Get those wet jeans off, and your panties, too. You’re soaked through to the skin and you need to be dry and warm. Leave your clothes there on the floor and I’ll run them through the wash.” He slid open a dresser drawer and retrieved his own dry jeans and shorts, then as he was reaching for the door to leave, he added, “I’ll wait right out here. Call me when you’re done or if you need help with anything.”

       He stepped into the hallway and ran right into every single one of his brothers. Even his son was there, grinning like a magpie. He glared at them all while he unsnapped and unzipped his wet jeans. They smiled back. “Don’t you guys have something to do?”

       “Yeah,” Gabe said with a wide grin. “We’re doing it.”

       “At times you’re entertaining as hell, Sawyer,” Jordan added with a chuckle.

       Sawyer shucked off his clothes, content to change in the middle of the hallway since they pretty much had him boxed in. He was annoyed as hell, but unwilling to let them all see it. As he stripped down to his skin, Gabe automatically gathered up the discarded clothes, helping without being asked. Then he handed them to Jordan who handed them to Morgan who looked around, saw no one else to give them to and tucked them under his arm.

       After he was dressed again, Sawyer crossed his arms over his chest, returning their insolent looks. “And what’s that supposed to mean, exactly?”

       Morgan snorted. “Only that you’re acting like a buck in mating season. You’re looming over that poor woman like you think she might disappear at any minute. You’re so obvious, you might as well put your brand on her forehead.” Morgan pushed away from the wall and ran his hand through his hair. “The problem is, Sawyer, we don’t know who she is or what she’s hiding.”

       Sawyer disregarded his brothers’ teasing remarks and frowned over their concerns. He didn’t need Morgan to tell him there were going to be complications with the woman. His own concern was heavy. “So what do you want me to do? Take her back to her car? Do you want to lock her up for the night until you fit all the pieces together? The woman is sick and needs care before her situation becomes critical.”

       Casey frowned. “Is she really that bad off, Dad?”

       Rubbing his neck, trying to relieve some of the mounting tension, Sawyer said, “I think she has bronchitis, possibly pneumonia. But I haven’t exactly had a chance to check her over yet.”

       Just then every window in the house rattled with a powerful boom of thunder, and in the next second, the lights blinked out. It was dark in the hallway, and all the men started to grumble profanities—until they heard a thump and a short, startled female yelp of pain in the bedroom.

       Sawyer reacted first, immediately reaching for the doorknob, then halting when he realized all his brothers intended to follow him in. One by one they plowed into him, crushing him against the door, muttering curses. Over his shoulder, Sawyer barked, “Wait here, dammit!” then hurried in, slamming the door in their curious faces.

       The wall of windows in his room offered some light from the almost constant strobe of lightning, but not enough. He searched through the shadows until he located her, sitting on the floor by the bed. Her wide eyes glimmered in the darkness, appearing stunned.

       But it was nothing compared to how Sawyer felt when he realized her damp jeans and silky panties were around her ankles—and her upper body was completely bare.

       The breath froze in his lungs for a heartbeat, every muscle in his body clenching in masculine appreciation of the sweet, utterly vulnerable female sight she presented. Lightning flickered, illuminating her smooth, straight shoulders, her full round breasts. Her taut nipples. Her fair hair left silky trails down her body, flowing sensuously over and around her breasts. He felt the stirrings of a desire so deep it was nearly painful, and struggled to suppress his groan of instant need.

       Then, with a small sound, she dropped her head forward in defeat and covered her face with her hands. That was all it took to shake him out of his sensual stupor. Determined, he started forward, dredging up full doctor mode while burying his instinctive, basic urges.

       But one fact rang loud and clear in his head.

       Damn, he was in deep—and he didn’t even know her name.

      CHAPTER THREE

      SHE WANTED TO DIE. To just curl up and give up and not have to worry about another thing. She felt beyond wretched, more embarrassed than she’d ever been in her life, getting more so with every second that passed, and she was so tired of worrying, of finding herself in impossible situations, giving up seemed the best option. She was just so damn weak, she couldn’t do anything.

       So instead, she got obnoxious. Without raising her head, she asked, “Are you done gawking?” Her voice was a hideous thin croak, a mixture of illness, embarrassment and pain. It was all she could do to keep herself sitting upright.

       “I’m sorry.” He crouched down and lifted her as if she weighed no more than the damn cat Jordan had been petting. Very gently, he placed her on the edge of the bed, then matter-of-factly skimmed her jeans and underwear the rest of the way off, leaving her totally bare. In the next instant, he tugged the jersey over her head. He treated her with all the attention and familiarity he might have given a small child, even smoothing down her hair. “There. That’s got to be more comfortable.”

       His voice sounded almost as harsh as her own; she couldn’t quite return his smile.

       After pulling back the covers, he raised her legs onto the mattress, pressed her back against the headboard with a pillow behind her, then said, “Wait right here while I get some light.”

       He was gone only a moment, but from the time he stepped out into the hallway until he returned, she heard the drone of masculine voices, some amused, some concerned, some insistent.

       God, what must they think of her? She was an intruder, a pathetic СКАЧАТЬ